Sundried Tomatoes
It’s the 90s. I’m in my teens at the Grahamstown National Arts Festival. I’m on a budget so I order the cheapest pizza on the menu, the one with cheese and tomato on top.
Everybody’s eating and drinking, smoking and smiling, while they chat about the latest show they watched. I made it a mission to watch as many shows as possible and I’m drunk on theater. I’m trying to process all the raw talent on display across the many performing arts disciplines needed to succeed on stage.
My pizza arrives and it smells cheesy. However, the tomatoes don’t look like tomatoes. Where are the circles of red deliciousness?
“Um… Sorry, but I ordered cheese and tomato on my pizza. Where are the tomatoes?” I ask the waitress.
“Those are sundried tomatoes.”
I had never heard of sundried tomatoes until that moment. I shrugged my shoulders and ate the pizza.
My first taste of sundried tomatoes was not a good experience. The chewy texture of the sundried tomatoes meant dried bits of tomato got stuck between my teeth. I added garlic oil, balsamic vinegar, and chillies to cover the weird taste in my mouth.
I failed. I paid for the pizza, so I ate every last disgusting slice.
Many years later, in Cape Town, I tried sundried tomatoes again, and I really enjoyed the intense taste this topping offered my taste buds. I finally understood the messages my tongue was sending me.
I’m amazed how my taste has evolved over time. Foods and drinks I hated in my youth actually now taste great in my 40s.
Here’s a brief list:
Beer.
Whisky.
Gin.
Black Coffee.
Guavas.
Fish Paste Sandwich Spread.
Chillies.
Eggplant.
Thai Curry.
Brussels Sprouts.
Mashed Potatoes.
Dark Chocolate.
Kimchi.
Shrimp.
Thanks to Tammy Evans for prompting today’s trip down memory lane with the Day #22 word: TASTING.