Jon’s parents are on weird diets which are high protein and very low carb. Not that Atkin’s nonsense, this was actually derived from a cardiologist at John Hopkins I believe. I don’t know when the event took place, but it appears Jon’s mother threw out any kitchen implements that would lead to the easy preparation of baked goods (i.e. cake pans). I had to scrounge around the back their pantry until I found (quite luckily I might add) 2 of those small disposable, aluminum cake pans.
You know the great thing about using someone else’s kitchen is that you get to use the gadgets they have that you do not. Gadgets like electric mixers, large shiny bowls, and a convection oven. Well, as great as it all is, you still long for some of your own tools. In this case, more than one spatula. How does a person operate with only 1 spatula in the kitchen? I will never know. But I digress.
I start whipping this bad boy up and it calls for, get this, 6 mashed bananas. Thank God the woman had jumbo bowls because my batter quadrupled in size and weight. The electric mixer said “screw this” and the blades would not even turn. I had to stir it by hand.
As I am mixing, I get a call on my cell:
“Come eat lunch with us, we are taking a quick break from the store.” It’s Jon. He’s headed to the BBQ joint near the store and about 10 blocks from the house.
“I can’t I am elbow deep in cake, I have to get it in the oven.”
“How much longer will it take?”
“The recipe says 45 minutes, but I don’t even have it in the pan yet.”
“Just come on. Don’t worry about it.”
“I can’t just ‘come on’. Ask your mom if cake batter can rest.”
“She says it can’t, it has to be made right away.”
Side Note Here: Jon’s parents and I have very distinct philosophical differences in regards to fire safety. I was taught to never leave an unattended candle burning, never walk away from the kitchen when you’re cooking, and always unplug appliances not in use. His parents routinely leave a prayer candle burning in their house, and a fire in the fireplace to keep the place warm when they head to the store in the morning. EEK!
Back to the story:
“I can’t make it. Just bring me something later,” I tell Jon.
“Oh come on, get it in the oven and you will make back in time before it is done,” he assures me.
*My eyes glaze over* I can see the headlines now: “Disgruntled Girlfriend Torches Future In-laws House Due to Delays in Wedding Proposal.” I see his parent’s house engulfed in flames with fiery bananas exploded against the wall like ignited napalm.
Against every fiber of my safety being I acquiesce. I pour the batter into the pan…and notice that we have a problem. The batter is filling the pan up way faster than it is emptying out of the bowl. Shit! :-O
A logical person would have stopped pouring and tried to save the rest of the batter for a smaller side cake. Not me, I can make it fit! Well all the batter fits, to the rim of the pan. I know this is not going to end pretty.
I try to lift the pan to get it into the 350* oven. It almost buckles under its banana sodden goodness. Crap! I slide a cookie sheet underneath the pan to catch the inevitable overflow and support its girth.
I send a text and smash banana into the crevices of my cell: “On my way.” Guess what happened.