Tuesday, June 3, 2014
I haven't made banana bread in donkeys' years… avoiding bad carbs along with everyone else.
But having grown up in a household where butter, sugar and flour were like a holy trinity, it was a slow and painful transition to not automatically reach for a mixing bowl and a wooden spoon to bake, usually a couple of things (hey, the oven's on already)—several times a week. My mom baked quite a bit… and I spent many hours going through her cookbooks and handwritten recipes, sorting them and, I thought, bringing order to chaos. She would just roll her eyes.
I still have a few recipes in her handwriting, and look at them with pleasure. The pound cake recipe probably came from my paternal grandmother. It was her signature dessert, one that I indulge my dad in regularly—since it prompts such pleasant associations for him. "Cherry pound cake! I haven't had this in years!" Well, actually, no…you had some last week, but—hey, glad you're likin' it, dad.