Food Friday: Banana Bread







Banana Bread

½ cup shortening (butter)

1 cup sugar














Cream shortening and sugar

Add  2 eggs














Combine and stir in:

2 cups flour

1 tsp soda

pinch of salt














Fold in:

3 very ripe bananas, mashed














Pour into greased loaf pan









Bake at 350 degrees F for 45 minutes to 1 hr.


Food Friday: Spinach Souffle




















Mirriam-Webster:  French, from soufflé, past participle of souffler to blow, puff up, from Old French sufler, from Latin sufflare, from sub- +flare to blow 

First Known Use: 1813


Souffles are light and fluffy.  You can eat a lot because it is mostly air.  Don’t be afraid to make a soufflé.  They are very easy to make.  The hardest part is washing the dish after baking!  Try it, you will love it!


Spinach Souffle


Melt in a pan on top of the stove:
1/4 cup buter
1/2 tst salt
1/4 cup flour














Make a paste and add:
1 cup milk,  gradually so it thickens


Separate 4 eggs


3/4 cup cheese and mix into white sauce
3/4 cup spinach, chopped
4 egg yolks  stirring quickly and remove from heat.
Cool the sauce.
















Beat egg whites with 1/2 tsp cream of tartar

















Fold egg whites into cooled sauce.













Pour into un-greased baking dish with high sides.
Bake at 350 degrees F for 30-45 minutes

















Serve with crusty garlic bread and a big salad.


Hurricanes and The Sound of Water

I have just finished reading the Sound of Water by Valerie Davies.

I enjoyed it very much and learned a lot!  It is full of literary references and historical anecdotes along with beautifully written images of life in a small New Zealand village.

The reason I mention this is, of course, Sandy.  Water.  It seems apropos.

It has rained for three days.  Wind and water.

Leading up to this major historical event, I stopped by the store thinking I should probably get some batteries for my flashlight, just in case.  By some miracle, I happened upon the last packet of “D” batteries in the store.  I later saw a news report on batteries, “D” batteries were nowhere to be found.  I had been lucky.

I wandered around the store and picked up a few more items, just in case.  Of course wine was a top priority but, on my way, I stopped by the bread aisle.  Interestingly enough, all the white bread was sold out.  Only whole wheat and “healthy” bread remained.  Made me laugh.  There was plenty of “my” bread left so I bought a loaf, just in case.

My son hauled the cooler out of the closet, just in case.  I made extra ice, just in case.

I charged up my iPhone backup battery, and filled up my Brita water jugs.  Just in case.

We hunkered down.

Schools, closed.  Federal Government, closed.  Public transportation, closed.  My office, closed (although expected to work from home – ahh, modern technology!).

We watched Obama return to the White House.  He was right there in the middle of it all.  We watched the weather channel, and CNN.  And just to break it up a bit, we watched and old Bond movie with Sean Connery.

The wind started up after dark and remained fierce for several hours.  We have some downed trees in the area and we are soggy.

But we never lost power.  We were lucky.   Our elected officials did what they were supposed to do, our public employees did what they were supposed to do, mostly people listened, and we were lucky.

And in-between news reports, Valerie Davies got me through.

My First Loaf of Bread

In the early 90’s my husband went to work in Moscow, Russia as a freelance journalist and decided to stay and live there.  After a while, I followed him over there.  I arrived in Moscow knowing very little about the country and nothing about the language. The Soviet Union had formally dissolved in 1991 but the city I landed in two years later was still very Soviet.  The streets were poorly lit, there were no neon signs, or many signs at all for that matter.  People did not generally speak English and were leery of foreigners.  It was an adventure for me but not an easy transition.

I determined there was bakery right outside our apartment building because it always smelled so good.  Fresh bread in the middle of winter, yum.  I went in one day to check it out and it was packed with people.  I stood and watched as people went up to the counter, looked around, and then queued up at the cashier’s cage.  They told cashier the type of bread they wanted, how many loaves, and what it cost – at least that is what I assumed was going on.  Over the next few days I stopped in on my way home and watched this process, trying to catch the names of the bread people were buying.  I still could not make out the Cyrillic writing under the loaves.

I finally managed to understand the name of one of the loaves – bolichka – it was a small, fat, French or Italian type bread.  I decided to give it a try.  I got in line for the cashier and yelled “Adin Bolichka!” into her cage.  I had learned how to count to ten and felt confident that “adin” meant “one”.  Much later I learned that Russian is more complicated than Latin and there were different ways of saying “one” depending on what you were talking about.  I probably should have said Adna instead of Adin.

Of course she didn’t understand me and started to yell at me – “What? What are you saying?  What do you want?  Speak up!”  Yelling at me!  I quickly left the building.

A few days later, I waited until there were only a few people in the store. Using a combination of sign language and my rudimentary skills, I pointed to the bread I wanted and asked the woman behind the counter what it was called.  “Shto?”  What?  She told me.  I asked her how much it cost.  “Skolka?”  How much?

She realized I was not catching on too quickly so she kindly wrote it all down for me on a piece of paper.  I went to the cashier and handed her the paper.  I paid her and returned to the counter with my receipt.  I had successfully purchased my first loaf of bread in Russia!!  I was so happy!  I felt like I should frame it.

But it was delicious.

I went through this process many more times during my years in Russia.  Eventually my language improved and my “Babushka” skills were honed enough that I could make transactions without falling apart.  The Russian Babushka is a fearsome entity.  She is a grandmother who always wears a scarf and  feels it is her duty to scold you.  It doesn’t matter who you are.

“You should button your coat”,

” You should not sit on marble”,

“You should wear a hat”,

“Your son should put his gloves on”,

“What is wrong with you, why don’t you do what I say?”.

She is everywhere and she is intimidating.

These are the women who manned the cashier stations in the Russian shops.