banana bread of love

A while back someone asked for my roommates groan worthy banana bread. This recipe is especially special, because it comes from my grandmother's handwritten recipe book. Since she's passed away, I plan on working my way through the book in her memory.

My roommate loves this recipe, and swears by using thawed frozen fermented bananas, and adding a cup of chocolate chips (or more if I'm lucky)!

Far Away Grandma’s Banana Bread

Ingredients:
1 cup margarine
2 cups sugar
6 ripe bananas (mashed)
4 eggs well beaten
2½ cups flour
2 tsp soda
1 tsp salt

Directions:
1. Cream margarine and sugar.
2. Add well beaten eggs.
3. Add mashed bananas and stir well.
4. Add dry ingredients.
5. Pour into greased loaf pan and bake for 50-60 minutes at 325°C.

*Makes 2 loaves

i belong with a knife and fork

I don't get out a lot.

Between work and school, I spend most of my free time making food or watching cooking shows on TV.

But this weekend blessed me with a couple of days off, making me feel like I'd just been bailed out of prison.

After my Friday morning music class I headed to one of my favorite destinations: St.Lawrence market. The sky was blue and the air was crisp. I pushed the collar of my jacket around my neck and squinted in the sunlight.

Once in the market I strolled past the bakeries, looked at a few cheeses, and then headed straight to the fish and chips stand at the end.

After eyeing the menu I ordered fresh grilled Atlantic salmon and sat down at a barstool. Around me sat businessmen on breaks biting into fish sandwiches, older women nibbling at fish and chips, and crowds of people digging into paper plates of unctuous seafood.

I watched my fish sit on the fiery grill until ready. It was served to me with a large salad, charred and grilled on each side, a garlic and herb marinade coating the fish, and a thick spicy sauce on the side. The fish was hot, fresh, and melted in my mouth. It was miles away from supermarket fish, or anything I've attempted to cook and home. I ate it slowly, watching the crowds around me, and the cook behind the counter continue to grill and fry fish and calamari.

With my stomach satisfied I roamed around the market for hours. I felt at home among the fresh bread, organic produce, marinated olives, butter tarts, enormous chunks of cheese, and bins of grains and spices.

At an Italian food counter, people sat around the counter with veal sandwiches, meatballs, spaghetti and meat sauce, and looks of content.

I thought to myself: this is where I belong, where I feel alive, inspired, and myself. If I plan on enjoying life, food needs to be a big part of it.

In the evening I went for drinks with friends, and went home as they continued onto other bars and clubs. It's becoming more and more clear that I’m not the party animal I used to be. These days I enjoy low key, intimate environments. If there is good conversation and good food I can stay there all night.

With this in mind, I headed to the Gourmet Food and Wine show with my roommate the next night.

The event took place in the spacious Metro Convention Centre, where stall upon stall had been set up of gourmet food, wine, liquor and more.

Walking into the room full of buzzing people, armed with a wine glass, I felt at home again. We sailed from one stand to the next, tasting local Ontario wines, gumbo seafood soup, spicy vegetarian sushi, seared salmon, fresh fig bread, salad with blue cheese, pears and smoked salmon, and other food that made me smile and groan with pleasure.

On the food network stage, the chef threw together random dishes, yelling about the food being sexy and asking for a glass of wine. I had the impression he had already had a few.

We talked to people, made friends, discovered new flavors and a new taste for wine. I was in my element, and would do it all over again to watch my roommate dig into a prime rib sandwich with a sinister grin on her face.

Like after any good meal, I feel satisfied but hungry for more.

lazy morning granola

With two essays behind me, I am taking a deep breath before diving into the rest of my workload.

I spent the morning nibbling away at chai biscotti at my boyfriend's, head deep in a novel while his dog crawled all over me, licking up the crumbs.

He drove me home, the sun shining, people walking along the lakeshore, biking across the long white bridge that runs along the water. It's turning into winter, but the colours of fall are still everywhere, bright leaves scattered on the ground.

Back at home I took a long shower, did some interviews for a story while in my bathrobe and made some granola.

My recent shock at discovering that instant oatmeal holds none of the nutrients of slow cooked oatmeal has led me to go the old fashioned route, stirring my oatmeal for half an hour over the stove until it forms a thick, tasty paste.

Wanting something cruchier, I seasoned my oatmeal and threw it in the oven for 45 minutes and came up with the perfect lazy morning snack.

It was delicious, giving me just enough energy to get to school in time for my afternoon class.



Lazy Morning Granola

1-2 cups rolled oats
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp cardamom
1/2 tsp cinamon
1 tsp flax seeds (other seeds and nuts optional)
2-3 tbsp agave nectar (you can also use honey or sugar)

1. Prehead oven to 250 degrees
2. Mix ingredients in saucepan under low heat
3. When oats are coated, scatter them out on a cookie sheet
4. Bake for 45 minutes
5. Allow to cool
6. Enjoy with soy milk, milk or plain yoghurt (Drizzle with more honey if you prefer it sweeter!)

run, walk, crawl

We sit in across from each other under dim lighting.

I take a sip of my red wine and it goes straight to my head. These days one glass is enough.

I spent the day with a nutritionist, going over foods that will help calm my insomnia and my anxiety. My sleeping is worse than ever with the stress of school and work. She told me I need to cut out sugars, white flour, and focus on foods that will give my body the energy it needs.

My boyfriend tries to understand me, and maybe he does. He tells me to relax more.

If I could I would.

He tells me to stop putting so much on my plate. Every day I have a new dream, a new goal, something more I want to do.

He knows me well.

He's right, and yet I love my wild and crazy dreams, and my urge to take on everything I can.

At one point, my eyes start to water.

He asks me what I'm thinking.

"Sometimes it just all seems so hard. Even the easy things, things other people make look simple. Like sleeping, eating, and getting stuff done."

I take another sip of wine.

The more I question my abilities the more my eyes water.

"You're right," he says, "life can seem so easy sometimes, and sometimes everything is just hard."

We sit in silence, and then, somehow, he finds a way to make me laugh.

My problems are out in the air and no longer seem so daunting.

We pay our bill and walk away from the restaurant, tugging our jackets closed as we fight the cold wind.



"Run when you can, walk when you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up." -Dean Karnazes (Runner)