Curse of the Tiny Banana

Every once in a while I misestimate the lifespan of the weekly bunch of bananas that we buy for Mom. It results in a few ripening too quickly and getting so brown that Mom won’t eat them. When this happens, we go buy new bananas and Bill gets out the banana nut bread recipe and bakes up a loaf. It’s a practical – and tasty – compromise.

Unfortunately, because Mom only likes to eat smallish bananas, it sometimes takes more than the recipe calls for to complete the required measurement, which is two cups. Two healthy sized bananas will usually equate to two cups; it can take up to four little bananas to get the same amount. Bill discovered this today when he pulled out the banana nut bread recipe and began mashing up the three prematurely browned bananas.

“Crap!” I heard him exclaim as I came in from the garage after starting a load of sheets in the washer.

“What’s up?” I asked, coming into the kitchen. “You’re not trying to slice frozen meatballs again, are you?”

“No. You know I let you do that now,” he said, unconsciously rubbing the scar on the middle knuckle of his right pointer finger with his thumb.

“Good,” I said. “So what happened?”

“It’s these stupid bananas. The recipe says to mush up two bananas to make two cups worth but it always takes more of these little ones than a normal sized banana. So now everything’s mixed together and I’m a half a cup short.”

“So get creative. Add some other kind of fruit,” I suggested.

He thought about it for a minute, then retrieve some frozen blueberries and dumped them into the bowl.

“See there,” I said with a smile. “This may turn into a wonderful new taste treat.”

“It just might,” he replied as he added the bananas to the dry ingredients and began stirring. “And all because of the Curse of the Tiny Banana.”

chimp

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