For years, my bulky-but-had-to-have-it backpacking food was a can of tuna fish. I’d dutifully tote it along, eating it straight from the can and relishing its toothsomeness after a few days of freeze-dried chow. It reminded me of when I was a kid and my dad would fry fresh-caught trout over the campfire. Then, about ten years ago, tuna in packets showed up on grocery store shelves. My years of hauling cans and can openers came to an end. “What luxury!” I thought while forking flakes of fish into my mouth at the bottom of Grand Canyon. Little did I know that things were only starting to get good.