These pancakes — they’re problem solvers. Of course pancakes, by nature, are pretty good at solving things. I’m pretty sure they have healing powers, especially when they’re stacked high and smothered in maple syrup and bits of bacon. But these particular pancakes solve a few specific problems for me. Before I get into that, let me explain a little bit more about these things. They are, in their simplest form, made with only two ingredients: bananas and eggs. “Whaaa?” you say? Yep. That’s what I said when I saw Izy’s post back in January. Mashed bananas + eggs = pancakes. Pretty healthy pancakes, at that.
Hey everyone! I am super duper excited to be sharing a guest post over at The Vanilla Bean Blog today. I adore Sarah’s space, and having the chance to occupy it (coupled with the recent unseasonably gross heat wave) inspired some ambitious drink-themed planning. The result was three pretty ridiculously delish drinks. (Also, I shoot with a white background, and I LOVE it. Madness!) So head on over to The Vanilla Bean Blog and check them out. Also, Sarah will be taking a little break this summer, so be on the lookout for lots of other awesome guest posts!
Happy Summer of Fun to Sarah and her family!
When I was young, I went through a phase where I was obsessed with apricot baby food. Not baby young; we’re talking four-years-old young. My brother (E) was an actual baby at the time, and I would insist on also being served a bowl of baby food whenever he was fed. (I’m willing to admit there may have been other forces at work here besides a love of pureed foodstuff. It’s possible that I was a little bit envious of my new, doted-on, glassy-eyed sibling [who wasn't even the right kind — I specifically told my mom that I wanted a sister]. And if I wasn’t going to get to play in the baby jumper suspended from the living room ceiling [which E clearly wasn't capable of utilizing to its fullest potential], then I was at least going to demand that I be given the same treatment as him when it came to food.) So yeah, maybe there’s that. But I recall really enjoying the taste of apricot baby food, specifically. (No matter how fixated I was on making sure this of blob of a baby knew it wasn’t special, there was no way in hell I was eating pureed carrots.) The apricot stuff didn’t just taste of sweet regression, it was kind of downright yummy.
Earlier this week, while enjoying my usual early morning routine of sipping coffee, catching up on blog posts, and postponing looking at my work email for as long as possible, I happened upon Lan’s question: What color would you describe your days right now? It made me pause, not in search of an answer, but in surprise at how quickly mine came to me.
Lately, my days have been a little grey. This is due, in part, to the much-needed rainy spring weather. But mostly to the fact that I am, for the first time in a long while, single. After nearly four years, Johnny and I decided to part ways last week. It was not preceded by constant arguing or festering animosity, nor was it entirely unexpected. We’ve simply realized that we are better friends than anything else, and that freedom from the constraints of a relationship would be best for both of us, as individuals and as friends. Despite the fact that this is the most amicable end to a relationship I’ve experienced, the sadness is no less difficult to bear. It makes food taste bland, turns seemingly normal breaths into heavy sighs, and makes it impossible to write this post without pausing to brush away a few tears.
I’m curious — is it just me, or has the spring ramp craze been extra crazed this year? At first, I thought maybe it just seemed that way because I finally started using Instagram (total old lady when it comes to embracing new forms of social media). But when I asked my mom last weekend if she and my dad had ever seen any ramps in the woods, she replied, “What is it with those things? Wai Shun (long-time family friend who owns a Japanese restaurant in Delhi, NY) asked me the same thing the other week.” She went on to say that they’d never come upon any, which surprises me considering their property consists of around 60 acres of forest-y land adjoining 500 acres of state land. She then called yesterday to tell me that she’d spoken with the woman who runs a little garden center/farm stand in the neighboring town, and when my mom asked her about ramps, she was equally unsure of their existence on her property, although thought that might be what’s been growing under her blueberry bushes. But she said that just that past weekend, some douchetastic guy that was clearly up visiting from the city (better known ’round those parts as a “citiot”) came into the store demandingly searching for ramps as well.