Saturday, February 8, 2014

It is Sunday afternoon. It is cold. There is snow. And there is nothing delicious to eat for lunch, unless the cereal KRAVE counts, which according to my 13 year does.

So I look around my kitchen trying to come up with something that will melt in my mouth while I cuddle up to a good book.  I've just gotten back from dropping off my youngest at the ski mountain for the afternoon.  Had I been thinking, I'd have picked up some lunch on my way home.  All I was thinking was how good it would be to get back home where it was warm, kick off my boots and make it a "Sweat Pants Sunday." And after I pour my coffee it hits me. "This coffee would taste better with something dipped in it."

And so I look around my kitchen and consider making cinnamon rolls.  However, I do not know where my Betty Crocker hat is, nor do I want to wait three hours.

And then I see the bananas on the countertop. My perfectly yellow bananas.  Perfect to peel and eat. Not perfect to mash them up and make them into banana bread.

No problem.  I can bake them at 300 degrees on a lined baking sheet for about 40 min.  I then let them cool about 20 min.  This makes the banana perfect to use in baking.  They are sweet and soft and perfect.  While the bananas are baking, I mix up my butter, sugar and eggs, along with my flour, baking soda and water. I also add chocolate chips and walnuts, because not doing so really should be a crime.  I do some dishes, check out Facebook, brush my teeth and take the bananas out to cool.  Twenty minutes seems to long and so I put the baking sheet of bananas outside on the snow for 15 minutes.  Yeah, I break rules like that.

I peel the bananas, mush them with a fork, fold them into my batter and drop spoonfuls into muffin tins. (I also sprinkle a little brown sugar that has been mixed with butter on top.) Ten minutes later I am putting a hot fresh  muffin onto my plate, pouring another cup of coffee and sitting back onto the couch with my book in hand, taking in the delightful smell of banana bread.  My oldest son comes downstairs with a delighted look on his face.  He doesn't say it, but I know what he is thinking. "Yeah, I pretty much have the best mom ever. Did you save me a muffin?"

Happy Sunday Folks. It is going to be a beautiful day.

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