The Failed Cook
If the zombie apocalypse ever comes, I'm pretty sure that the most valuable survivors will be the ones who know how to grow, preserve, and cook food. I might as well sacrifice myself to the zombies now.
I've always had a disinterested relationship with food. When I was in college, I survived on yogurt, cheese, Top Ramen, canned tuna, and anything else I could find that was cheap and didn't need to get near a stove or oven. I could only stay in the kitchen long enough to prepare food that took under five minutes to pull together (salads barely qualified). I finally graduated to microwave ovens and husbands who didn't mind cooking.
I promised myself that when I retired, I would get over myself and learn to love cooking. We bought a house with a root cellar. The possibilities were endless.
My first promising step was to buy a slow cooker. I was positive that I could throw whatever into that piece of equipment and walk away for hours. Good intentions met reality, and the slow cooker became a man toy. My husband doesn't mind, and neither do I.
I researched canning online, and interviewed some canning enthusiasts. I decided that it was too complex for my little brain and my attention span, and dismissed it as an option.
For my birthday, I bought myself a food dehydrator. Since fruits and vegetables are more limited in Wyoming than in California, a food dehydrator could be a good way to preserve foods and enjoy them through the winter. The food dehydrator arrived yesterday. It looks like a UFO, and came with no instructions. Oops.
More research revealed that I need a few more attachments to dehydrate the foods that interest me the most, so I ordered them online (what would we do without Amazon?). I also ordered a food dehydrating recipe book while I was at it. Everything should arrive in about a month, so I don't have to fight my food demons for another 30 days. Meanwhile, the UFO is stashed in a kitchen cabinet.
