My companions were impressed at first, then slightly amused as they watched me attempt to boil the bounty while simultaneously preparing a sauce and noodles with my comically small cookset. Their looks eventually wilted to annoyance as an hour passed and I still hadn’t finished dinner. We crunched away at my al dente failure just as the sun slipped below the horizon.

I decided to invest in a dehydrator to save time (and face) on future trips. I armed myself with a coupon and braved the wilds of Bed Bath & Beyond to purchase a four-tray circular Nesco variety that looked like a miniature spacecraft. I also ransacked used bookstores to acquire a small library of ‘70s-era dehydrator cookbooks that I would use to prepare my worldly feasts. My favorite of these archaic texts was Food Drying At Home: The Natural Way, “with over 300 Healthful and Delicious Recipes.” I passed over mystifying recipes like “Chicken Luau” and “Pie From India” for the more approachable “Spaghetti Sauce.”

Soon, a hearty homemade purée sat bubbling on the stove. Content with its progress, I turned to investigate my new intergalactic kitchen accessory, lifting off its lid to reveal four trays…with holes in them. Many, many sauce-defying holes. A quick consultation with my trusted guru, The Internet, revealed that I was to either purchase or fashion some sort of solid insert that would retain my tomato-ey goodness and convert it into a beautiful, leathery disc. With the skill of a kindergartener, I crafted a series of completely lopsided inserts out of parchment paper, then carefully poured my creation into each tray. I then waited and waited and waited—and then over-“cooked” the damn thing because I waited too long. Still, I felt a gentle sense of pride in the four giant, burned-brownish Frisbees I peeled from those trays, smiling wistfully as I flung each directly into the trash.

Emboldened by this mild “success,” I started experimenting with some of my favorite foods. There were many failures. While cooking a delicious yellow curry, I added a whopping handful of kale at the last minute (I’ve been in California for a decade; it’s practically a residency requirement to eat this stuff), then had to frantically fish the uneven, too-large leaves out of the dehydrator when they refused to play nice and dry out with the rest of the ingredients. I also let out a series of small, sad mewling noises when I completely obliterated a batch of chopped mushrooms into tiny, hard, inedible nuggets. Then there was the perfectly good slice of pumpkin pie I ruined in a half-baked experiment to see if I could relive the magic of Thanksgiving dinner on the trail. Sigh.

I eventually became a passable student of Zen and the Art of Food Dehydration. Under my careful watch, watermelon cubes morphed into chewy taffy squares, mashed sweet potatoes became a cold-weather pick-me-up, and refried beans with freeze-dried shredded cheese made my heart sing. After a lengthy bit of emotional recovery, I even revisited that “really awesome Indonesian noodle dish.” This time, however, I was alone in the alpine as I poured hot water over my dehydrated creation, watching with soft contentment as it gradually puffed up and came to life. Then I leaned back and dug in, adrift in peanut-buttery bliss as the sun departed, grateful for another day in the backcountry – and a small bit of culinary redemption.

Please, learn from my mistakes (and eventual successes):

• Cast your recipe net wide. While it’s possible to seek out your own ‘70s-era dehydrator-specific cookbooks, you’ll also find a bounty of modern recipes scattered across the Internet. Even better? Dig into your own repertoire of favorite dishes—or even dehydrate leftovers – as long as you consider the caveats listed below.
• Forget about dairy. Apologies to my fellow cheese lovers, but the stuff just doesn’t dehydrate properly—and that goes for all dairy products, or anything that contains more than a hint of the stuff. Instead, buy powdered milk, coconut milk, butter, and freeze-dried cheese, and then add it to your meal at camp.
• Exercise caution with meat. Be careful if you decide to party down with Chicken Luau or any other meat-based meals. This is one thing you shouldn’t wing in your dehydrator. Read up on safe handling practices for the type of protein you’re using.
• Be consistent. Ensure that non-puréed foods are chopped up in small, uniform pieces so that they dehydrate evenly and all the way through.
• Don’t overload the trays. Whether it’s a sauce or something more solid, you want to avoid overloading the trays, because this will hinder airflow (and thus, drying). 
• Check for total dryness. Never store any dehydrated food that still contains moisture, because this is a recipe for introducing mold and bacteria. On this note, it’s also best to let things cool completely before packaging them (I use regular zip-top baggies), so they don't "sweat" inside the bag, and then store them in a cool, dark place. You can also buy desiccant packets to toss inside that will suck up any remaining moisture.