LJ Idol Week 2 -- "Um..."
“Um...” I muttered to myself as I pulled the loaf pan out of the oven. It was supposed to be banana bread. It managed to be both black on the outside and sputtering with liquid. It looked like the world’s angriest baked good. I checked my watch. Ninety minutes at 350, twice the time the recipe called for, and this was what I was left with? If anyone’s wondering how you can possibly screw up banana bread, this is how you screw up banana bread.
I should have known the recipe was dodgy. It didn’t actually have any dry ingredients -- just mashed banana, applesauce, maple syrup, cashew butter and baking soda. I didn’t have any cashew butter -- maybe that’s where I went wrong. And I knew, as soon as I took the Pyrex measuring cup out of the microwave, that I should not have melted the regular butter all the way down. But it was all the butter I had in the house, and I had to use it. The batter looked like cake batter when I was done, so I figured it would be all right if I just let it hang out in the oven.
I poked at the thing in the loaf pan with a fork, and the tines came away wet. I thought for a moment. More time in the oven didn’t seem like a great idea. Maybe it would dry out if I took it out of the loaf pan? I grabbed a plate and shook the pan, and out splotched the mush. I could not call it bread. The chocolate chips I’d thrown in were stuck to the bottom of the loaf pan, and as I scraped them out onto the plate, a light yellow halo of butter spread around the mush. “Um,” I said again. I didn’t understand! The comments on the recipe page had said it had all come together beautifully! “The most bread-like bread I’ve ever made!” said one. So what was this sorry bit of banana-slicked grease doing here?
Maybe it tastes good, I thought. I picked out a small piece and popped it in my mouth. The initial flavor was yummy and the way banana bread should taste, but as I bit down, it spurted with salty grease. I grimaced and swallowed. No. No, no, no. I walked away, washed the few dishes in the sink, and then came back to stare mournfully at the smush on the plate. I considered feeding it to the cat but I knew that even he wouldn’t touch it. Maybe if I’d had a dog. I couldn’t feed it to my boyfriend, I was worried he’d break up with me if I tried. Maybe there was a local “Home for Disastrously Awful Baked Goods” I could mail it off to.
Then a line from “Grease” (appopriately enough) came to me. “You shouldn’t eat this, you should bury it!” Hmm. The ground was soft from rain and I did have a shovel. So ten minutes later, I found myself out in my backyard, thwacking away at the ground with the shovel in one hand and the plate of... stuff... in the other. Once I had made a little hole, I tilted the plate and let the worst banana bread I’ve ever made slop and drip inelegantly into the dirt. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, mush to mush,” I said, shaking my head. My cat, who had followed me outside, mewed at me. “Not a word of this to Sam,” I whispered to him. “This will be our little secret.”
I should have known the recipe was dodgy. It didn’t actually have any dry ingredients -- just mashed banana, applesauce, maple syrup, cashew butter and baking soda. I didn’t have any cashew butter -- maybe that’s where I went wrong. And I knew, as soon as I took the Pyrex measuring cup out of the microwave, that I should not have melted the regular butter all the way down. But it was all the butter I had in the house, and I had to use it. The batter looked like cake batter when I was done, so I figured it would be all right if I just let it hang out in the oven.
I poked at the thing in the loaf pan with a fork, and the tines came away wet. I thought for a moment. More time in the oven didn’t seem like a great idea. Maybe it would dry out if I took it out of the loaf pan? I grabbed a plate and shook the pan, and out splotched the mush. I could not call it bread. The chocolate chips I’d thrown in were stuck to the bottom of the loaf pan, and as I scraped them out onto the plate, a light yellow halo of butter spread around the mush. “Um,” I said again. I didn’t understand! The comments on the recipe page had said it had all come together beautifully! “The most bread-like bread I’ve ever made!” said one. So what was this sorry bit of banana-slicked grease doing here?
Maybe it tastes good, I thought. I picked out a small piece and popped it in my mouth. The initial flavor was yummy and the way banana bread should taste, but as I bit down, it spurted with salty grease. I grimaced and swallowed. No. No, no, no. I walked away, washed the few dishes in the sink, and then came back to stare mournfully at the smush on the plate. I considered feeding it to the cat but I knew that even he wouldn’t touch it. Maybe if I’d had a dog. I couldn’t feed it to my boyfriend, I was worried he’d break up with me if I tried. Maybe there was a local “Home for Disastrously Awful Baked Goods” I could mail it off to.
Then a line from “Grease” (appopriately enough) came to me. “You shouldn’t eat this, you should bury it!” Hmm. The ground was soft from rain and I did have a shovel. So ten minutes later, I found myself out in my backyard, thwacking away at the ground with the shovel in one hand and the plate of... stuff... in the other. Once I had made a little hole, I tilted the plate and let the worst banana bread I’ve ever made slop and drip inelegantly into the dirt. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, mush to mush,” I said, shaking my head. My cat, who had followed me outside, mewed at me. “Not a word of this to Sam,” I whispered to him. “This will be our little secret.”