8:30 Sunday morning – I ambled down to the kitchen for a glass of water and a quick inventory of breakfast possibilities – three overripe bananas stared at me longingly. The cupboard had some flour, a recent acquisition of pure vanilla and a half a tub of roasted pecans on the kitchen counter. In the fridge were two sticks of butter and half a dozen organic, free-range eggs. Baking soda is a staple in my kitchen toolbox – so I grabbed what was probably my wisest culinary investment in the last two years, a set of Williams-Sonoma glass mixing bowls that sometimes moonlight for salads and pasta. With a flick of the wrist holding a well-used wooden spoon that is probably older than my youngest niece, it was banana bread or bust baby! No one was stopping this half-awake cook from creating magic.
Then it hit me. There's a story behind this. Since the year started, I have been engaged in a challenge from my Parisian friend CB to learn how to cook the French way and to blog about it. And now the weekly exercise, or what we like to call, dimanche repas, has extended to three other friends in different parts of the world. The friend from New England has even published a time zone info graphic of our disparate locations. As I slid the loaf pan in to a 350 degree oven, I realized that I just made this simple yet elegant baked confection without the aid of a recipe – as if my hands were on autopilot.
We usually don't think of transformational changes in our mid-40's, at least that's not what the experts like to say. But I may be involved in something so sublime that it may actually change the course of my perceived future. If I had my druthers, a lifelong dream of Rick’s Café Americain would open its doors tomorrow. A bar that would reflect the rich cultural diversity of this, my adopted country and serve the world’s most exquisite foods paired with the best in wine and other libations. At the center of that dream would be the most beautiful woman to come into my life that would turn my world upside down and then leave the scene with unabashed tears and regret. After all, the world will always welcome lovers.
It is now 9:30 and I can smell the vanilla and pecans permeating the kitchen. That's what a simple banana bread can do for your regular Sunday philosophical musings. As you might have guessed, I am not a linear thinker, even in the way I cook. But to my four friends who are out there working on this week’s Tranches De Jambon a La Crème, my wine glass runneth over for you.
Then it hit me. There's a story behind this. Since the year started, I have been engaged in a challenge from my Parisian friend CB to learn how to cook the French way and to blog about it. And now the weekly exercise, or what we like to call, dimanche repas, has extended to three other friends in different parts of the world. The friend from New England has even published a time zone info graphic of our disparate locations. As I slid the loaf pan in to a 350 degree oven, I realized that I just made this simple yet elegant baked confection without the aid of a recipe – as if my hands were on autopilot.
We usually don't think of transformational changes in our mid-40's, at least that's not what the experts like to say. But I may be involved in something so sublime that it may actually change the course of my perceived future. If I had my druthers, a lifelong dream of Rick’s Café Americain would open its doors tomorrow. A bar that would reflect the rich cultural diversity of this, my adopted country and serve the world’s most exquisite foods paired with the best in wine and other libations. At the center of that dream would be the most beautiful woman to come into my life that would turn my world upside down and then leave the scene with unabashed tears and regret. After all, the world will always welcome lovers.
It is now 9:30 and I can smell the vanilla and pecans permeating the kitchen. That's what a simple banana bread can do for your regular Sunday philosophical musings. As you might have guessed, I am not a linear thinker, even in the way I cook. But to my four friends who are out there working on this week’s Tranches De Jambon a La Crème, my wine glass runneth over for you.
The woman who would turn my life asunder.
The dream.
A banana bread can tell a lot of stories.
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