I've whipped up meals in fancy copper saucepans, in battered woks, and in my grandfather's old iron skillet, but never before have I used a syringe to make dinner. There I was, feeling like a cross between a superstar chef and a crack addict, madly jabbing a needle into a scrunched-up pouch of freeze-dried NASA shrimp cocktail, injecting a bit of water, and watching the water dribble uselessly back out. Welcome to space—the final food frontier.
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