Play.
All around is the sound of trickling water. Icicles shrinking and dripping. The wind blows as though breathing a long baited sigh of relief. The birds sing again. The sun burns red through closed eyelids and thaws the chill from the interminable Winter.
Spring is here. In case you didn't know, Spring is my favourite season. It's when Winter fades and slowly life begins again. Winter is like living on pause. Life is frozen in place. It's time for play.
Speaking of which, I was playing with my original Banana Muffins recipe the other day and transformed it into Chocolate Banana Cinnamon Muffins. I think you'll like it.
Simple Pleasures.
Last night my dinner consisted of a handful of popcorn and half a Toblerone. Unhealthy, yes, but you have to marvel at the restraint it requires not to eat the entire Toblerone. Tonight's dinner was by far an improvement.
And by improvement I mean I ate it all. Since when have you not been able to finish a bowl of delicious ice cream? Granted it normally follows the meal instead of preceding or encompassing it, but hey I'm proud of myself.
Anyone who's ever been to Dairy Queen knows I'm telling the truth when I speak of the beauty that is the Peanut Buster Parfait. I wouldn't lie about such things.
Layers of creamy soft serve vanilla ice cream sandwiched between thick hot fudge and salted peanuts. Just when you think it's all gone you break through to a whole new layer of chocolate peanut bliss.
Now you might be wondering how on earth you could possibly make that any better. Well it's simple, my friends. First you make your very own French Vanilla Ice Cream, you top it with homemade Hot Fudge Sauce, salted peanuts and, the crowning glory, sliced bananas. Aren't the simplest things the best things?
Sweetheart.
I thought that on this most auspicious day I would share with you mine and Lee's favourite poem. Sometimes no matter how hard you try to express your feelings someone has already beaten you to the punch.
A Rhyme of the Dream-Maker Man
Down near the end of a wandering lane,
That runs 'round the cares of a day,
Where Conscience and Memory meet and explain,
... Their quaint little quarrels away.
A misty air-castle sits back in the dusk
Where brownies and hobgoblins dwell
And this is the home
Of a busy old gnome
Who is making up dream-things to sell,
My dear,
The daintiest dreams to sell.
He makes golden dreams of wicked men's sighs.
He weaves on the thread of a hope
The airiest fancies of pretty brown eyes,
And patterns his work with a trope.
The breath of a rose and the blush of a wish
Boiled down to the ghost of a bliss,
He wraps in a smile
Every once in a while,
And calls it the dream of a kiss,
Dear heart,
The dream of an unborn kiss.
Last night when I walked thro' the portals of sleep
And came to the weird little den,
I looked in the place where the elf-man should keep
A dream that I buy now and then.
'Tis only the sweet happy dream of a day--
Yet one that I wish may come true--
But I learned from the elf
That you'd been there yourself
And he'd given my dear dream to you,
Sweetheart,
He'd given our dream to you.
-William Allen White
When Good Bananas Go Bad…
...Make banana bread.
Then make bread pudding.
Dress it up with whipped cream and dust it with cinnamon.
And I don't think I need to tell you what to do with all that...
...But I will.
Eat it. Eat it all. And fast. Before I do.
I'm a picky banana eater. I like them yellow and only yellow. No green and no brown specks. As soon as there's brown present I don't want anything to do with them. That's a very narrow window in which to enjoy banana goodness.
But rest assured I have not thrown out brown bananas in years. It just doesn't happen. Because, as I'm sure you know, they are soft, sweet and begging to baked up in something special.
Like this Banana Cinnamon Bread Pudding. I have never eaten and most definitely never baked bread pudding before. I have to be honest I put it off for a few weeks. I think it was the custard. If you know me at all you know the long history I have with custard.
Oh yeah, me and custard go way back. Trials and tribulations.
I think it's time custard and I set the past aside and become friends. Maybe even best friends. I mean when a dish full of freshly grated cinnamon, sweet bananas and toasted walnuts extends that hand of friendship you don't say no.
I say yes. Heck yes!
Heebee Jeebees.
Popsicles. Is there anything better on a hot Summer day? But it's not all fun and games. There's evil lurking in your popsicle. Splintery, wooden, spongy evil.
Is it just me or does the thought of biting into a refreshing popsicle down to the wooden stick give you the heebee jeebese? It not only ruins the whole experience it also incites a physical reaction in me that is most unpleasant.
You know that feeling when you drag your fingernails across a chalkboard or when you accidentally touch a bug? It feels like you need to chop your fingers off to get rid of the weirdness. Either that or run your fingertips across an SOS pad until the pain replaces the icks.
I used to chew on popsicle sticks when I was a kid then promptly hide them in the basement couch because I was too lazy to take them upstairs to throw them out. The thought of doing that now makes me cringe for a few reasons.
Sorry to make you think of bugs, amputation and skin abrasions while setting eyes on this rainbow of Fruit Punch Yogurt Popsicles. These have plastic sticks so no worries.
Enough of my neurosis. Let's get crack-a-lackin of some popsicles.
Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice.
The brown sugar is of the dark brown, aka demerara, variety because I've decided it's the best dang sugar on the planet. The spice is cinnamon because, let's face it, it's the rock star of all spices. The everything nice part refers to brown butter because a smidgen of brown butter makes everything nicer.
That's what little girls are supposed to be made of, but instead it's my cake. Let's just be clear that this is 100% cake. No little girls were harmed in the baking of this cake.
Anyhoo...
A little off topic, but did I ever mention how much I hate ribbon roses? Well I do. They're not nice, unlike brown butter. I spent hours of quality time with my piping bag practicing the technique and I only got these eight measly excuses for ribbon roses. I also spent those hours swearing very unlike a little girl. Ok, so they're not half bad, but my perfectionist brain disagrees.
They say practice makes perfect, but what if I don't want to have anything to do with these little monsters anymore? Let's just settle for mediocre ribbon roses shall we? Ok deal.
So Next Season.
I know, I know. I'm weird.
Who makes something maple flavoured in the Summer? In case you can't see, that would be me reluctantly raising my hand.
It's like I'm just asking for it. I'm tempting the fates. Tomorrow all the leaves are going to turn orange and fall from the trees. And it will be all my fault. If that happens I take full responsibility. And if that happens you'll at least have some appropriate cookies for the premature Autumn season.
I guess I could have tucked away this little gem and waited patiently for the next season. Do I strike you as a patient person?
Let me explain the method to my madness. Remember when I made these Maple Bacon Oatmeal Muffins? Well I had some maple syrup leftover and I couldn't see that sugary heaven go to waste so I planned these lovely Maple Banana Whoopie Pies.
I had exactly one cup of maple syrup left. Did I plan it that way or am I just that lucky? Why can't I be lucky with something useful like the lottery or Kitchen Aid giveaways? Whatever. I'll take what I can get.
And if licking the measuring cup clean of any maple syrup residue is wrong then I don't want to be right.
Swoon.
There are a few specific types of food that it is considered absolutely criminal to dislike. Corn on the cob, for example. It's in season and it's on sale at the supermarket by the bin-fulls. I casually yet efficiently weave my cart around that bin and the greedy patrons digging through it all the while carelessly tossing husks on the floor. I have all summer to look forward to awkward social situations where I have to politely say no thank you when they pass the plate of corn on the cob my way. I have all summer to look forward to the shocked and hurt faces around the table when I explain I don't like corn on the cob. Professing your hate for corn on the cob is like admitting you eat puppies for breakfast.
And then the question. Oh, the question. But why don't you like corn on the cob, Lindsey? Why does anyone dislike any type of food? Because they don't like the taste! What do they expect me to say? When I was five my family and I were carjacked at gunpoint by a gang of corn on the cob and ever since then I can't even look at the stuff without bursting into tears. That's what I should say. That would catch them off guard. Ask a silly question, get a silly answer.
Then there's lobster. But why don't you like lobster, Lindsey? Oh I'm sorry if my personal choice offends you, but I prefer not to look my dinner in the eye while I viciously crack open it's exoskeleton and eat out it's insides. Seriously? Is it that hard to understand? It's like eating an overgrown bug! Then you add insult to injury and dip the poor thing in garlic butter. You know what I think? I think eating lobster is just an excuse to eat an entire stick of butter. That's all it ever ends up tasting like anyways. Would you like some lobster with your butter? I like my butter on bread, thank you very much.
But then there's things like these Banana Cupcakes with Peanut Butter Frosting. I would personally be shocked and offended if you told me you hated them. That's where I draw the line on criminal food aversions. Banana and peanut butter is a match made in heaven. The saltiness of the peanut butter brings out the sweetness of the banana. You bite into one and you just let the flavours combine and compliment in your mouth. Then you swoon and eat another. It's just that simple.
Double Chocolate Banana “Bread”.
Some of you might recall I mentioned my aversion to bread. I'm not afraid of eating it. Not at all. Or inhaling it's sweet, freshly baked smell.
It's the yeast part I'm actually nervous about. I've never used yeast. Not once. It's a little embarrassing really. Here I am out here on the interwebs claiming to be a baker of sorts and I have yet to tackle the most basic forms of baking. Bread is ancient. It's tried, tested and trusted all over the world. It's intimidating.
Something about the yeast. How you have to add it to warm water and let it...grow? Weird. Then I must knead this dough for...how long? No thanks. Then there's this whole rising part. I mean, what will I do when faced with the inevitability of a hunk of dense, dark, heavy, short, rebellious, un-risen bread? I'll cry, that's what. I'm being a big baby, I know. I just hate failure. And failure in the kitchen just seems to hurt that much more.
I know it's simple. I know it's tasty. Why haven't I made some? Bread. Mysterious bread. You know what the funny part is? I know that once I start making bread, once I leap over that baking hurdle and dive into the fantastic world of bread making, I know I'm going to love it. I won't be able to get enough of it. I'll eat bread morning, noon and night. Foccacia toast for breakfast, french bread paninis for lunch, pulled pork on pretzel rolls for dinner and cinnamon buns for dessert. Sounds pretty good right?
I'll make some. Soon...ish.
In the mean time I made Double Chocolate Banana “Bread”. I always thought It was odd to call it bread when really it's just cake in loaf form. I just like the irresistible alliteration of it. Banana Cake just sounds silly. This is practice for the big day I suppose. I can pretend it's bread, but at least I don't have to pretend it's delicious.
Baking Gone Bananas.
I don't think anyone can argue how comforting the smell of fresh baked food is. Baking apple pie is one of my favourite smells. The way the apples combine with the cinnamon and pastry is intoxicating. It makes my mouth water just thinking about it.
It reminds me of my mother's bread maker. She would start making it before bed and during the night it would mix, rise and bake. By about five or six in the morning the house would fill with the amazing aroma of fresh bread. We'd all wake up super early because, let's face it, it's not so easy falling back asleep after smelling that.
These banana muffins are much like that. The smell is just amazing and when they bake I feel instantly happy. When the timer goes off I probably wait all of one minute before I stuff one in my face. It's amazing I manage to unwrap the muffin liner, but even that probably wouldn't ruin the taste.
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