Hi Everyone, I was inspired this past week by Mark Bittman of The New York Times to make sun-dried tomatoes. Bittman wrote eloquently about being a sun-dried tomato convert and the myriad ways in which he now uses this ingredient.
As soon as I finished reading the article, I went and sliced all three pounds of the fresh ripe tomatoes I’d bought the day before at the market and set them in the sun to dry. I’d have to wait four days for the process to be completed. As I sat staring at the sea of red being seared by the hot midday sun, I thought, what a great way to preserve tomatoes so that when the price here goes up to US$4.50 per pound as they did last month, I can ignore them, because I have the real thing in a concentrated form. Traditionally, whenever tomatoes carry their pricy tags, I turn to the can but now thankfully, I have an additional alternative.
Of course, tomatoes have always been an important part of my cooking. Nevertheless, the first time I tasted a tomato, and I mean really tasted the tomato in all its sweet juicy splendour, was in 2004. I was having dinner at one of Chicago’s trendy restaurants, Waves. The meals were served tapas style (a variety of appetizers). On one of the plates before me lay thick slices of heirloom tomatoes that were dusted with some quality sea salt. I sliced a piece of the tomato and put it into my mouth. The sweet fruitiness that filled my mouth and enveloped my senses forced me to look at my plate with renewed interest. Is this what a tomato is supposed to taste like? Sweet? The sea salt that dusted the open surface of the tomato had heightened the natural sweetness. I made my way slowly and pleasurably through the sliced tomatoes and when they were all gone I felt as if I did not want to eat anything else because I did not want to ruin the sweet flavour that still lingered on my tongue. I swear my dining companion probably got bored with me going on and on about those tomatoes.
When I got back to the Caribbean, I started to pay much more attention to the tomatoes I bought and how I treated them. Ever since I was small I had learnt not to refrigerate tomatoes, always store them stem-side up; to never squeeze tomatoes, only caress them gently. Since my experience at Waves I had become even more solicitous. I started questioning the vendors as to whether or not the tomatoes they were selling were local or imported. I had to. Don’t forget that more than 80-percent of the food we get here in Barbados is imported. The imported tomatoes are never as sweet as the local ones. Imported tomatoes have to be picked and shipped early and I suspect they get a little boost of something extra to preserve them. I’ve become highly suspicious if, after three weeks, the tomatoes sitting in their basket on my counter are still ruby-red and unblemished.
Like many of you, I use tomatoes often in my meals whether it is cooked in or sliced and served by itself or as part of a salad. Now, thanks to Mark Bittman I have found a new dimension to this fruit that is intriguing, the flavour is much more pronounced the texture meaty and if it has been dried with salt, oh man, that’s even better. I love biting into the salty-fruity-tomatoey bits.
I experimented by drying the tomatoes in 2 ways, the natural way – that is, in the sun for 4 days, the other method was oven drying. I had the oven at low heat (170 degrees F) and after 12 hours I had perfectly dried tomatoes. I found that the sun-dried tomatoes retained their bright red colour while the ones dried in the oven got a deeper shade of red, almost blood-red. The sun-dried tomatoes were meatier than the ones done in the oven but in terms of actual taste, they were both the same.
Cooking with them is delight, when I’ve used them in baked goods I would hydrate them first but in stews and saut
