As I wrote last week, I recently moved back to college. Unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on how you look at it – I am unable to physically do the moving and the carrying of boxes, bags, etc that is requires with moving in. (If you read that “About Me” section up above, you know this is due to arthritis, etc.) Knowing this ahead of time, I put out the call to my friends who are good at carrying things, and made certain they knew the reward was whatever baked good they so desired.
One of my lovely friends who helped me requested banana bread. A little unsure, I accepted this challenge. I considered it a challenge because, despite my many experiences baking and cooking, I have never made banana bread before. The reason behind this is another reason why I considered it a challenge: I hate bananas with every fiber of my being.
I mean, I seriously incredibly ENTIRELY hate bananas. Hate em.
Now that we’ve got that covered …
Since I had ample free time this afternoon, I decided to do this baking so I could deliver the reward sooner rather than later. All was going well: I had all of the ingredients, everything was going according to plan, everything looked like I believed it should, etc. And then my clumsiness won.
See, we have a very limited amount of counter space. And some days (like today, apparently) I have some clumsiness issues and knock things over. So, combine those two, and I jostled the bowl I was stirring, knocking it out of my hand, and then some of the batter fell out.
Normally, while this would be obnoxious, it wouldn’t be a huge issue. However, since bananas make me extremely nauseous, it was. Immediately the smell and texture made me feel ill, and while I was able to fix the situation and create a loaf (albeit a bit smaller than usual), it still made me swear something:
I am never, ever, ever making banana bread again. Ever.