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Archive for November, 2008

Say This for It

fresh banana bread

The one good thing about being sick is getting well again, seeing with new eyes all you took for granted. After gingerly eating unbuttered toast, applesauce and chicken noodle soup, you foray back into the world of food, beginning with more substantial soups and buttered rolls, then moving to small portions of meatloaf or candied sweet potatoes, relearning to eat what everyone else is having.

It’s a lot like being a child again, when you’re promoted from milk to pureed vegetables to little bites of normal bread or fruit. Each new food is a taste you’ve not had, a flavor you’ve lived without. And that first bite of banana is so interesting, so different, the feel of it on your tongue, so exciting, that you are thrilled with a world of possibility.


banana bread plated


One thing you can say for a banana: it sticks with you, even when you’re coming off a horrible, horrible stomach cleansing. This week, I’ve eaten one almost every day. And, for someone who usually finds the texture of bananas rather unappealing, I really mean that bit about them being exciting now. After 24 hours of nothing special, a banana (and for that matter, a saltine cracker) seemed heaven-sent, which got me thinking: Maybe I should give bananas, in other forms, another shot.

So for a little while this week, I’ve let myself think about a fresh, hot-out-of-the-oven banana bread, soft but sturdy, with substantial slices you could hold in your hand. It would be a tender loaf, cake-like, sweet with the strong, unmistakable flavor of bananas.

Then, appropriately with The Joy of Cooking as my guide, I made one. And from the moment it came out of the oven, as perfect as I had imagined it, all was well again.

I ate a thick end slice immediately, then two more for breakfast, then another the next evening. In fact, I liked the bread so much, I just might scratch what I said first in this post. After all, Banana Bread, this illness brought me you.




Banana Bread
Adapted from The Joy of Cooking

Ingredients:
1 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
5 1/3 tablespoons unsalted butter
2/3 cup sugar
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup mashed, very ripe bananas (about 2)



Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease an 8.5-by-4.5-inch loaf pan (or, what I did, line it with parchment paper, letting the paper drape over the sides; this makes removing the bread from the pan very easy, as you just lift the paper, bringing the loaf with it).

In a medium-sized bowl, whisk together thoroughly the flour, salt, baking powder and baking soda. In the bowl of an electric mixer, combine the butter and sugar, beating it on high speed until the mixture turns lightened in color and texture. Add the flour mixture to the butter/sugar until the consistency of brown sugar.

Gradually beat in the two lightly beaten eggs. Fold in, until just combined, the mashed bananas.

Scrape the mixture into the pan and spread evenly. Bake until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, 50 to 60 minutes (mine took the full hour). Let cool in the pan on a rack for 5 to 10 minutes before unmolding to cool completely on the rack.

Raincheck?

Saturday night, with the best of intentions, I treated my brother to a belated birthday dinner in Lincoln Park, and before leaving the place, I had become so sick, I’d even made an emergency visit to the men’s room when the ladies’ was occupied and things had gotten, well, urgent. (A consoling factor, perhaps, was the look on the face of the man waiting outside when I exited, which, someday I can hope, will seem very funny indeed.)

I haven’t been this sick since last Christmas, when I had similar symptoms after a nasty chicken salad (which, incidentally, I have not eaten since). I can’t look at a cookbook, I’ve been muting all food-related commercials and, when I tried to skim the blogs in my reader, I almost lost whatever remnants were left in my stomach.

You know things have gotten very bad when you finally have a full day of doing nothing but laying beneath a pile of blankets in front of the television, watching one chick flick after another, and you don’t even enjoy it. Everything, from Steve Martin’s being father of the bride to some teenage girls sharing a pair of traveling jeans, made me cry. I even teared up watching Return to Me, a movie I have seen dozens of times, because I just love those little old guys and their Italian-Irish restaurant, and isn’t it sweet that Minnie Driver’s heart found David Duchovony?

I’m a mess, clearly. For the next few days, aside from a big glass of Pedialyte, chicken broth and a few pieces of plain toast, there isn’t much food on the horizon. Even when I can eat again, it will likely take some convincing to want to.

So take this as an I.O.U., would you? When I return, it will be sans bug, and I think we’ll all feel a little happier.

For All Its Faults

I know it would be easy to think things are all happy and cookies around here. But between you and me, I have a hard time with this time of year, when the days darken an hour before I leave work and we gear up for the long (snowy! icy! bitter cold!) winter. There are those who would say, fairly maybe, that if you declare autumn your favorite set of months, you have to take it with all its flaws, as well as its gorgeous colors and crisp breezes, caramel apples and cider doughnuts, colorful gourds and adorable pumpkins. That you can’t be a fickle lover, using the season for what it gives you and wishing it away when the good things end.

When every work day I walk to my car in pitch-black darkness, when the weather reports threaten a snowfall, when I eat dinner and want nothing more than to curl up on the sofa with a soft blanket, I tell myself these are the small sacrifices. That, in exchange for dense golden forests and carved Jack-O-Lanterns, I give up a little daylight, a little warmth. That, because fall is so wonderful, winter has to follow. It’s the way of things. You can’t have everything you want or you’d be terribly spoiled, right? You can’t have just the beauties of fall year-round or you’d forget to appreciate them, yes?

pumpkin muffin close

I want to be mature about all this. I am trying, all right? I’ve been finding what I like about these darker days—sunny mornings, for example, or the fact that I usually wake up before my alarm. This almost-winter thing isn’t so bad. Plus, there is Thanksgiving on the horizon, and after that, Christmas. Meanwhile, I could use a hug, if not a plane ticket to someplace lovely where I can wait out the next few months. Of course, I’d also settle quite happily for a bite of something delicious. Maybe something pumpkin, as another reminder of fall’s virtues?

pumpkin muffins 2

Still on the hunt for the perfect pumpkin recipe, I baked these muffins last night, taken from a Gourmet recipe from 2006. They’re not overpoweringly sweet, more savory in fact, with a moist, moist center and flecks of cinnamon and sugar on top. I wouldn’t say they’re THE recipe, but they’re a step in the right direction. They’re also a whisper in my ear that fall hasn’t left entirely and, that I must enjoy it while it lasts.


Pumpkin Muffins
Adapted from Gourmet November 2006, as seen at Muffin Top

Ingredients:
1.5 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 15-ounce can of pure pumpkin
1/3 cup vegetable oil
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon pumpkin-pie spice
1.25 cups plus 1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Directions:
Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Put liners in muffin cups of a 12-cup muffin pan.

Whisk together flour and baking powder in a small bowl. In the bowl of an electric mixer, stir together pumpkin, oil, eggs, pumpkin-pie spice, 1.25 cups of sugar, baking soda and salt. Add the flour mixture until just combined, always with machine on lowest setting.

Stir together cinnamon and remaining 1 tablespoon sugar in another bowl.

Divide batter among muffin cups (each should be just over 3/4 full), then spinkle tops with cinnamon-sugar mixture. Bake until puffed and golden brown and a knife inserted into center of a muffin comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes.

Cool in pan on a rack 5 minutes, then transfer muffins from pan to rack and cool to warm or room temperature.