Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

Spiced Banana Bread Recipe and stuff

Spiced Banana Bread with Nuts

Cold butter for greasing pan

Piece of parchment paper for bottom of pan

1 2/3 cup all purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon ground allspice

1/2 teaspoon salt

Sift above ingredients together in a small bowl, set aside

1 cup sugar

2 eggs

1/3 cup canola oil

3 very ripe bananas, mashed

3 tablespoons sour cream

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup toasted hazelnuts, roughly chopped

1 cup chocolate chips (optional, milk is better than semi-sweet here)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Line bottom of pan with parchment paper.

Thoroughly butter pan and parchment paper.

In a large bowl, mix sugar and eggs until fluffy.

While stirring, drizzle in oil.

Beat in the rest of wet ingredients.

Gently fold in dry ingredients.

Fold in hazelnuts and chocolate chips.

Pour into loaf pan and bake for 1 hour, 10 minutes, or until a stick stuck in the middle comes out clean.

There it is, the perfected Spiced Banana Bread recipe. Enjoy. It will be included in the cookbook I am writing, so don’t spread it around. Keep it as your secret. Believe me, I am the top traffic producer on this site, the secret won’t get out from here. I suppose you could substitute “healthy” things for the sour cream or whole eggs, etc. and you go ahead and do that. But I don’t want to hear about it. As always, I believe that food should be enjoyed as much as possible, it is not just fuel. It is a sensory experience. And as such, food should be constructed with the most delicious of ingredients available.

For example, if I had shallots, and I was lookiing for some sauteed onion, I would very well use the shallots. They will add a subtle additional flavor component, while delivering the onion flavor I started looking for. I will use butter, not margarine. ALWAYS. Good wine, never “cooking wine”. I don’t believe in substitutions. If you really like applesauce, have a bowl of applesauce. Don’t plop it into a recipe that has nothing to do with apples as a substitute for something that isn’t applesauce. AUGH!

I’m done. Rant over. I know. I go off on the same rant every time I post a recipe, and I will publish the same rant in my cookbook. Applesauce in a baker’s kitchen is a communist plot. I can forgive the use of “egg product”, some people need that, that’s cool. But I will not jump on the applesauce train, and do NOT even mention tofu to me. It’s called Patisserie, not “Vegan Hell Plan to Keep You From Enjoying Cake”.

No, I’m really done now.

I’m just cranky because I finished off the banana bread today. You’re lucky, you’re getting the final, beta tested recipe. The one I just finished was a bit dry, and not spiced enough. It was a tribulation, to be sure, but for you guys, I ate it and analyzed it. I’m making mini loaves for Doc’s co-workers. For his “friends”? NOTHING.

I told him that yesterday. I said I wasn’t baking, or making candy, or making DVD’s, or doing computer help for any of the people he calls his friends, except one. No one else. They blew him off all year. Even doing drive-by’s when they were in town, like fucking high schoolers. Ducking him when he goes over to deliver a care package (and I out my foot down on those, as well, no more), so he just leaves the stuff on the porch. Fucking losers, all of them.

I’ve offered to fix their computers, buy and fix their computers, set up online ebay/paypal situations for them, set up email for them, tutor them on basic internet use, whatever they needed. #NoMore.

We’re starting the new year off fresh. We will be four weeks from a new harvest on New Year’s. We’re saving money for a car, though Doc seems to be eyeing the idea of buying a new scooter, whatever. I’m on a new med. Christmas is going to be great. I’m not going to think about the things hanging over my head anymore. They will drop when they drop. And though they may make a splash, I’m wearing my water wings and I’m pretty sure I can survive the ripples.

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