Last night I had the strong urge to make banana bread after reading the Pioneer Woman’s recipe for her mother’s banana bread.
I thought to myself,
“I have 2 ripe bananas at home…I should make this tonight!”
I had everything I needed on hand, except for the
sour cream greek yogurt which I stopped at the store for on my way home.
I was all set.
Or so I thought.
My sweet tooth kicked in and I still had some energy in me.
It appeared as if I was all ready to go until I read that I needed 4 cups of flour. Four!
I turned in panic to my almost empty flour container and quickly estimated that I did not have a full four cups.
I thought I would try and measure it out, hoping that it would be 3 3/4 cups. Or miraculously turn into 4 from 2, like Jesus did with loaves of bread and fish.
Hey, miracles still happen you know.
But it didn’t for me. Not last night anyway.
I barely had 2 cups.
It was getting late and I didn’t want to go to the store yet again. I tried Big Fisch on his phone but of course he didn’t get the call.
Because his cell phone is from 1998 and seems to get service in only a few areas…none of which includes our house or the route he takes to and from work. Convenient.
Why does he not have an updated phone?
Because he is waiting for a new model from Verizon to be released, which keeps getting pushed back and back and BACK. It’s been 7 months we’ve been waiting!
Pardon me. Now that I got that out, allow me continue with my bread saga.
Big Fisch pulled up to the house and I realized that my only option was to go to the store for more flour since let’s face it, I doubt my neighbors have any, I gave into the defeat and concluded that this just must not be the night for banana bread.
I slowly put each ingredient back in it’s designated pantry spot and closed the door.
I turned and walked away to receive a hug from Big Fisch in my sorrow, when I heard a loud CRASH, BANG, BOOM!
Realizing the odds of a boogieman fitting in my small pantry were slim to none, I figured one of my pantry items must have been throwing a temper tantrum in it’s frustration with not being used.
I grabbed a skinny cow ice cream treat instead and stomped off to the couch before realizing that I could have just cut the recipe in half and made a smaller portion.