While men have long dreamed about uncharted islands' potential for Robert Louis Stevenson-style treasure, they typically offer nothing more than a cinematic place to die, or not die but possibly be in purgatory, or...who cares, Kate was hot. Sending truly wondrous treasures to wherever you are, Inishturkbeg.
A ruggedly beautiful, borderline-unpronounceable four-square-mile blip off Ireland's west coast, the ITB (as they don't call it, but should) boasts a population of highly specialized culinary artisans who harvest foodstuffs from the farm or by the net, then deliver them to your fridge via the 'Net. Their latest venture is a smoked-and-unsmoked bacon line featuring back or belly cuts taken from lower-weight boars with their jewels still intact, making for leaner and more flavorsome pork; the strips are all rubbed in sea salt, Muscovado sugar, apricots, and foraged rose hips, then cured, hung for nine days, and cut either rasher-style, or streaky (also a can't-miss prediction for Wimbledon). The more longstanding specialty is fish: honey-roasted salmon & whiskey-marinaded gravadlax, line-caught Albacore, and regular or peppered "pin-boned" (i.e., removed with tweezers) mackerel; all the fish are hot- or cold- smoked using local beechwood chips and seaweed, which is ridiculous because even primary schoolers know seaweed won't get you sea-stoned.
The ITB online shop also has two other miraculous surprises available: you can either buy a pony from their stud farm, or rent the entire island -- left alone with all that food, you'll end up looking like Hurley, who is affable and has great comic timing...who cares, Kate was hot.