Banana bread birthday
Sunday was mom's birthday; she's officially old enough to retire, should she want to do that. However, my mother, who is incapable of making up her mind on things, cannot decide if she should retire yet or not. This is despite having wanted to retire for, oh, about a decade. So, she's still working, which is good, because it gets her out of the house.
Speaking of which, she went to Peoria on Saturday with some of the Red Hats. I think the weather was decent enough (consider we're in the middle of the wettest May on record, dating back to 1871; storms are pretty much always a possibility as of late). There must be some sort of statewide Red Hat tea, and a few others had gone last year, and it intrigued mom enough to want to go. I kept thinking she was going on a riverboat cruise, but it was actually held at a bowling alley, so I keep picturing my cousin's son's birthday parties. (No word on if there was any pickle dip.) There was some sort of raffle, and mom bought tickets, and she ended up winning several prizes. Here's the thing--they were clearly, like, white elephant gifts she thought people had cleared out of their houses. One was this small, flat box that at one point had been white, but I'm guessing that was about thirty years ago. Inside were these weird gold plates that I'm sure someone crafty could do something with, but...I don't think that would be us, unless we made an outside art installation. The second was this good-sized basket that had a couple vases (mom put one in the foyer next to a Papa plant, actually), a clear mesh tote bag with a smaller bag attached, and probably other random crap I can't recall right now. The third one was the most useful, though not necessarily to us. There were ten concentric glass bowls inside, which I will admit to liking but we have no room for them. Mom then went, I think this would make a nice centerpiece in the dining room! And the current centerpiece got moved to the kitchen table. Uh, are you going to cover those bowls so they don't get dusty? (Probably not.) There were also these cheap plastic measuring cups and spoons; we already have two sets of each, plus several larger measuring cups, so we definitely do not need those, yet mom insisted on having a conversation/argument with me about them as I was trying to leave for the parade on Monday and I'm like, really, do we need to have this discussion now? There were also a couple kitchen towels, which I would be okay with keeping. I can't get enough of kitchen towels for some reason, though honestly I think we're good. At some point the spirit of Marie Kondo will move me and I *will* KonMari this house.
With mom gone, I set to work on a two-part project for her birthday. I'd noticed that we'd had two overripe bananas in the fruit bowl. Hey, let's pick up some of that banana bread mix at the store. It's by Chiquita and it's kept by the bananas in the produce section. We've had it before and I knew there was a recipe for either banana bread French toast or banana bread bread pudding on the side; I could make that for breakfast for mom's birthday. It ended up being the French toast, and we either had or bought the ingredients needed, so pretty much as soon as I got home, I baked the bread. It's pretty easy and tasty; dad has up and made it himself. (He's not the baker in the family.) Okay...what do I do with it so mom doesn't eat it all before tomorrow? I ended up hiding it on top of the fridge behind two large Malt-o-Meal bags of cereal. She had no idea. Dad was worried she'd sniff it out, but we'd had leftover pizza for lunch, and the smell of that from the microwave killed off any lingering bread smell.
Round two, Sunday morning. Time to mix the batter and slice the bread. The recipe said it only made six pieces of toast, but they were 1/2"-3/4" thick, so they were good-sized. I only had one, for instance, and saved my second piece until Monday. There were also regular slices of banana bread left, too, so that was nice. Dad decided to make bacon as well, and popped that in the oven while I was cooking. The timing worked out pretty well for when they finished. The batter was just eggs, half-and-half, and vanilla, I believe, so that was simple. It really was just enough for six slices, and what little was left I turned into a tiny, sweet omelet. Dad watched me make the slices and was chiding me for not browning them enough--oh, you'll get sick! Dad, they're fine. Though I did put a couple slices back in the pan to brown some more. I had a couple slices of bacon, but it ended up being really greasy. I probably should have drained the fat off the top, because I think a little bit was pooled on there. Also, had I made it, I probably would have left the bacon in the oven a bit longer; I like my bacon crispy, and this was still chewy. Ultimately, within about 30-60 minutes, I felt very heavy in my stomach and was off the rest of the day.
This is why, when mom suggested getting Mexican for dinner, I was not having it. I can handle when we have homemade tacos and fajitas, but anything else I don't really care for, especially when all entrees come with beans and rice. Get that rice away from me. Most of the stuff had some sort of component I wouldn't eat, and given my poor mood, I was like, get whatever. Mom basically wanted to get one of a bunch of different things, shades of Lorelai Gilmore, so they got probably five different entrees. I'd started to go downstairs when the food arrived, just to check it out, but I overheard my parents talking disparagingly about me and turned and went back upstairs. Gee, thanks, guys. They didn't know at the time that I wasn't feeling well and thought I was just being a pain in the ass. As it turned out, mom really only wanted the street corn (she really likes that for some reason), but it ended up being super cheesy, and I guess she also had cheese enchiladas. Otherwise, I don't know what she ate. I was feeling poorly enough that I almost skipped dinner entirely, but ended up having a couple bowls of cereal, plus a slice of regular banana bread, I believe. (I also used the bathroom a lot that day; that helped. Nobody else had any issues, so my French toast was fine; screw you, dad.) I think I went to bed early, and the good news is that I woke up feeling a lot better, so I got through the parade okay.
Speaking of which, she went to Peoria on Saturday with some of the Red Hats. I think the weather was decent enough (consider we're in the middle of the wettest May on record, dating back to 1871; storms are pretty much always a possibility as of late). There must be some sort of statewide Red Hat tea, and a few others had gone last year, and it intrigued mom enough to want to go. I kept thinking she was going on a riverboat cruise, but it was actually held at a bowling alley, so I keep picturing my cousin's son's birthday parties. (No word on if there was any pickle dip.) There was some sort of raffle, and mom bought tickets, and she ended up winning several prizes. Here's the thing--they were clearly, like, white elephant gifts she thought people had cleared out of their houses. One was this small, flat box that at one point had been white, but I'm guessing that was about thirty years ago. Inside were these weird gold plates that I'm sure someone crafty could do something with, but...I don't think that would be us, unless we made an outside art installation. The second was this good-sized basket that had a couple vases (mom put one in the foyer next to a Papa plant, actually), a clear mesh tote bag with a smaller bag attached, and probably other random crap I can't recall right now. The third one was the most useful, though not necessarily to us. There were ten concentric glass bowls inside, which I will admit to liking but we have no room for them. Mom then went, I think this would make a nice centerpiece in the dining room! And the current centerpiece got moved to the kitchen table. Uh, are you going to cover those bowls so they don't get dusty? (Probably not.) There were also these cheap plastic measuring cups and spoons; we already have two sets of each, plus several larger measuring cups, so we definitely do not need those, yet mom insisted on having a conversation/argument with me about them as I was trying to leave for the parade on Monday and I'm like, really, do we need to have this discussion now? There were also a couple kitchen towels, which I would be okay with keeping. I can't get enough of kitchen towels for some reason, though honestly I think we're good. At some point the spirit of Marie Kondo will move me and I *will* KonMari this house.
With mom gone, I set to work on a two-part project for her birthday. I'd noticed that we'd had two overripe bananas in the fruit bowl. Hey, let's pick up some of that banana bread mix at the store. It's by Chiquita and it's kept by the bananas in the produce section. We've had it before and I knew there was a recipe for either banana bread French toast or banana bread bread pudding on the side; I could make that for breakfast for mom's birthday. It ended up being the French toast, and we either had or bought the ingredients needed, so pretty much as soon as I got home, I baked the bread. It's pretty easy and tasty; dad has up and made it himself. (He's not the baker in the family.) Okay...what do I do with it so mom doesn't eat it all before tomorrow? I ended up hiding it on top of the fridge behind two large Malt-o-Meal bags of cereal. She had no idea. Dad was worried she'd sniff it out, but we'd had leftover pizza for lunch, and the smell of that from the microwave killed off any lingering bread smell.
Round two, Sunday morning. Time to mix the batter and slice the bread. The recipe said it only made six pieces of toast, but they were 1/2"-3/4" thick, so they were good-sized. I only had one, for instance, and saved my second piece until Monday. There were also regular slices of banana bread left, too, so that was nice. Dad decided to make bacon as well, and popped that in the oven while I was cooking. The timing worked out pretty well for when they finished. The batter was just eggs, half-and-half, and vanilla, I believe, so that was simple. It really was just enough for six slices, and what little was left I turned into a tiny, sweet omelet. Dad watched me make the slices and was chiding me for not browning them enough--oh, you'll get sick! Dad, they're fine. Though I did put a couple slices back in the pan to brown some more. I had a couple slices of bacon, but it ended up being really greasy. I probably should have drained the fat off the top, because I think a little bit was pooled on there. Also, had I made it, I probably would have left the bacon in the oven a bit longer; I like my bacon crispy, and this was still chewy. Ultimately, within about 30-60 minutes, I felt very heavy in my stomach and was off the rest of the day.
This is why, when mom suggested getting Mexican for dinner, I was not having it. I can handle when we have homemade tacos and fajitas, but anything else I don't really care for, especially when all entrees come with beans and rice. Get that rice away from me. Most of the stuff had some sort of component I wouldn't eat, and given my poor mood, I was like, get whatever. Mom basically wanted to get one of a bunch of different things, shades of Lorelai Gilmore, so they got probably five different entrees. I'd started to go downstairs when the food arrived, just to check it out, but I overheard my parents talking disparagingly about me and turned and went back upstairs. Gee, thanks, guys. They didn't know at the time that I wasn't feeling well and thought I was just being a pain in the ass. As it turned out, mom really only wanted the street corn (she really likes that for some reason), but it ended up being super cheesy, and I guess she also had cheese enchiladas. Otherwise, I don't know what she ate. I was feeling poorly enough that I almost skipped dinner entirely, but ended up having a couple bowls of cereal, plus a slice of regular banana bread, I believe. (I also used the bathroom a lot that day; that helped. Nobody else had any issues, so my French toast was fine; screw you, dad.) I think I went to bed early, and the good news is that I woke up feeling a lot better, so I got through the parade okay.