Today’s advertiser is AG1. Although Beehiiv rules forbid me from asking or encouraging you to click the ad, if you do so, of your own free will and according to your own moral principles, each click will earn me $2.06.

It’s a brand-new year! (2026, in case you’re wondering.) And you know what that means: time for a trend report! Because we all care about food — cooking it, eating it, taking pictures of it, watching people take pictures of it, watching videos of people making food that looks good but might not actually be that tasty or even replicable — we all want to make sure that we ingest nutrients that not only keep us alive but also fit into a predetermined media narrative we can claim as our own, for ultimately unfathomable reasons. Well, I’m here to provide that narrative! Here’s my guide to the food world you’ll wish you could escape in 2026:

The U.S. economy is terrible: Between AI, tariffs, inflation, and the overall impossibility of ever having a satisfying career, few of us are feeling flush, let alone stable. We’ve barely got money for bacon and eggs, let alone luxury ingredients like “fresh bread” and “salad greens that weren’t grown in a sewer.” What we do have, however, is limitless supplies of feelings: anger, sadness, frustration, hopelessness, boredom, fury, rage, and did I mention anger? These can be prepared any way you like — smoked, air-fried, or even sous vide, to match your emptiness inside — but true aficionados prefer them raw and sometimes even unwashed. However you consume your feelings, consider adding a bit of málà spice: chilies to heat them up, Sichuan peppercorns to numb them into oblivion. It’s how us pros do it!

With the new USDA guidelines emphasizing protein and saturated fats, there’s no better food source to consider than America’s ultra-wealthy. As with all meats, one must consider them carefully and cook accordingly. Rich women, for example, need to be butchered by experts, to ensure no silicone or plastic contaminates the meat. Males, meanwhile, may be stringy and gamy or fatty and bland. In either case, try adding ginger to a braised dish, to offset any potentially unpleasant flavors, and remember that the most delicious part of eating the rich is the stunned and crestfallen look on their faces when they realize they’re about to become your new favorite weeknight dinner. Pro tip: Bone spurs make great stock!

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If you voted for a Republican in the last election, you should look forward to a full year — maybe a full lifetime — of supping directly from the earth: dirt, rocks, pebbles, and whatever slime and grime accompany them. Keep your motherfucking head down, your nostrils clogging with soil, and don’t stop till you’ve licked my yard clean. Pro tip: Try adding ginger to offset any potentially unpleasant flavors.

Recipes have never been my thing. When I cook, I like to mix my knowledge of technique with my instinct and intuition. Essentially, I’m a freestyler. But this year, I’m going to put a bit more energy into prep work — as a famous New York City cab driver once said, “One of these days I’m gonna get organizized!” Well, one of these days is now 2026. I am going to plot and plan, to scheme and map, and when I pull the lid off my final creation, the world is going to literally gasp. You’re welcome to join me. Who’s in?

Those of us who like to explore the great outdoors follow one golden rule: Leave no trace. And in the wilderness of present-day American social and political life, we’d all do well to heed that advice. Whatever you cook up this year, remember to destroy, delete, and otherwise devour any scraps and leftovers. After all, no one likes a dirty kitchen, least of all federal law-enforcement agencies! So, clean that plate, just like your parents taught you. It’s the polite thing to do.

As the year progresses, you will doubtlessly be served small portions of hope. You may not recognize it at first, since it’s been a minute and because this rendition will surely be twisted and contorted beyond familiarity. Is it genuine, organic optimism? An amuse-bouche of transient change? Three quick bites that hint at the possibility, one day, of a decent goddamn world? Please savor them, but remember: The tasting menu’s dishes arrive as the whimsical chef decides, or maybe not at all, and as much as you enjoy each one individually, you will be left unsatisfied by the end of the meal, on November 3.

Even if you don’t order the tasting menu, there will still be moments to celebrate throughout 2026, whether because the forces of good have won or because (more likely) our foes have comically face-planted, exposing their hypocrisy and incompetence. At these times, you must drink deeply of their failures, savoring the sweetness of every triumph, no matter how ephemeral. This, my friends, is the water of life! Each bracing drop sustains us through the desert-dry weeks and months of defeats, and though we may quickly become addicted to the feeling, it’s one we should become accustomed to craving, doing anything and everything in our power to taste it every day for the rest of our lives. Maybe then, once we become bored of that flavor, inured to its ambrosia, we can move on to new foods, new trends, and ask ourselves: What will 2027 bring? Whatever that turns out to be, I hope it’s grass-fed, ethically sourced, and within our budgets. 🪨🪨🪨