I know what you're thinking: that is a slab of jerky with the inexplicable addition of dried fruit and a fancy wrapper. And I say, yeah, OK. That's one way to look at Epic grass-fed meat bars. But having tried the Bison Bacon & Cranberry flavor myself--when I was in New Orleans this nice young lady noticed me staring at hers, and gave me a bite in exchange for my word that I would go away and stop trying to engage her in conversation about R2D2's humanity--I can say that Epic does more than jerkify the worlds of protein bars, Paleo diets, and animals slaughtered to sustain our food supply.
Texturally, Epic bars are much thicker and softer than jerky--they are based on a Plains Indian food called pemmican--and their flavor profiles are quizzically unique. Strange enough to make you ponder WTF?, but not so outlandish that WTF? doesn't lead to kinda wanting to try one. The buffalo concoction previously mentioned combines 100% grass fed bison, uncured bacon, and dried cranberries for a high-protein, low-carb (and particularly low-sugar) hunger pummeler that will leave eaters of gummy, brown rice syrup-laden Clif Bars in its dust. Or at least wondering why your post-workout snack makes your breath smell like a carcass.
Other Epic flavors include Beef Habanero & Cherry, made from 100% organic grass fed cow, and finished with cherries and a touch of hot pepper, and Turkey Almond & Cranberry, fused from the things listed in its name, plus some tandoori spice. I don't know about that last one. Sometimes I feel like if turkeys and chickens aren't fresh out of the oven they taste like licking the ends of AA batteries.
Note: Epic fruity meat bars contain actual meat, and are therefore not suitable for vegetarians, unless the vegetarians are due for a practical joke or payback.