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Let me come right out and say: I love perishable Christmas gifts. People who know me know that the way to my heart is through my stomach, and a pile of beautifully bowed-and-papered boxes under the Christmas tree will always play second fiddle to the hodgepodge of awkwardly wrapped stocking stuffers that, once freed, can be stuffed straight into my mouth. So year after year, my Christmas stocking is filled to the cuff with an assortment of delicacies: Belgian chocolate bars, jerky sticks, chili mango slices, and yogurt-covered raisins, to name a few of my favorites. But one year, I stuck my hand into my stocking and retrieved not one but multiple tins of fish.

Before you jump to conclusions about who must have landed herself on the naughty list that year, let me clarify: These weren’t leftover World War II rations that Grandma (bless her) had dug out from the back corner of a kitchen cabinet and wrapped for a slightly off-kilter white elephant exchange. No, these had been responsibly—not sarcastically—sourced.

Once I got over my surprise at unwrapping boxes of anchovies, mackerel, and mussels—all part of —I realized that this was no different than fishing packs of jerky out of my stocking. These were high-protein, portable, shelf-stable treats that could fuel all kinds of adventure. And fuel all kinds of adventure they did. That winter a tin of Lemon Herb Organic Mussels and a handful of Triscuits became one of my favorite brown-bag ski lunches. One tin equals one serving size and packs a whopping 18 grams of protein. I always struggle to find snacks that will satisfy my need for salt after sweating all day at the resort—too many are packed with sugar—so spiced mussels or fish in a savory broth or olive oil were a welcome alternative to Snickers bars.

I may have gotten some funny looks in the lodge while cracking a tin of Lemon Caper Mackerel for lunch, but I ignored these. After all, was this so different from whipping out a ziplock bag of pocket bacon? Not really. But dipping a hunk of fresh baguette into a tin of smoked mussels harvested in Galicia felt like splurging on a Michelin-starred restaurant by comparison. Sure, you pay a price for eating so well—one 4.2-ounce can of Smoked Mussels will run you eight bucks. Unless, of course, you don’t pay anything at all, because someone in your life knew you’d be too cheap to treat yourself to such wholesome nutrition.

So while at first blush tinned fish might seem like a slightly unorthodox or even insulting gift, I’m here for it. And that goes for any other canned goods that make for great adventure snacks—I’ll take a pocketful of mackerel over gummy bears any day.

Jenny Wiegand is the editor of �����ԹϺ���’s semiannual Gear Guides.