In route to the heart
By way of the stomach
My good intentions got
Stuck in his esophagus
A silly little poem that sums up my cooking endeavors. Like my adventures in the car, I lack direction and any sense, as in no common sense. But I’ll always keep trying.
This latest experience included one of my favorite recipes – banana nut muffins. However, being the opportunistic woman that I am (or depending on your perception — too lazy to get the ingredients needed to make the recipe a success), I raided the pantry and started to experiment.
But baking, unlike other forms of cooking, does not permit experimentation. At least, not from the likes of me.
I heard somewhere along the way that you could replace some of the oil with apple sauce so why not honey for sugar? Well, I don’t know why you can’t, but you can’t. Don’t do it.
25 minutes later the kitchen smelled heavily of bananas and baked goodness. Excited to share the treat with my husband, we didn’t wait long before biting in. Another 25 minutes of chewing and not making any headway transported us back to 10 years prior; to a time when we were high school students and first dating.
To show my love and affection, a younger version of myself took to the kitchen, pulled a recipe for banana bread, baked it and then transported it the 30 miles to his house. With all the anticipation of my efforts, and both our mothers on looking, he took a bite into the bread and looked up sweetly, searching for the appropriate way to deliver praise that was not deserved. He settled on “hardy.” A term we use affectionately now to gauge the density of foods we come across, whether I cook them or not.
While my cooking skills has improved only slightly, not my affection for a tasty muffin and the desire to create one for my hubby that is more “hearty.”