Addicted: Take Two
In retrospect, I realize that my plunge into addiction to dehydrating started as a child. I remember seeing a package of sundried tomatoes in the store. I wanted to try them but my mother refused to buy them, no doubt because they cost a fortune. That only made me want them more. She also refused to buy chocolate covered ants, but somehow, being blocked from eating ants didn’t seem as frustrating.
I was intrigued by the idea of drying tomatoes in the sun. We lived in the Southern most part of Texas and it got hot in the summers. We also had a had a tin roofed barn and I figured that if it was hot just walking around, the tin roof got even hotter – hot enough to make my own sundried tomatoes.
I made a “sundrying” tray by nailing chicken wire to a wooden frame. I cut some tomatoes in half and put them on the tray. I threw a few lemon, orange and grapefruit slices on the tray for good measure and put the tray up on the roof of the barn and waited.
The experiment didn’t work so well. Nothing really dried. I hadn’t calculated the effect of humidity on my efforts and summers in South Texas are not just hot, they are humid. Second, the fruit attracted bugs. Even the thought of insects crawling on my fruit made them unappealing. Still, these early efforts must have simmered in my system, waiting for an effort to bloom into a full blown obsession.