Ulla and the Banana Drops

I did it. I can’t believe it, but I did it. I was creative, intuitive, constructive. I stepped outside myself and actually took a risk in the kitchen. That’s right, dear readers, I made a cookie almost entirely on my own. Without help. Without instruction.

It was so freeing. So liberating. So empowering.

And it happened because I had a couple of overly ripe bananas and a sudden distaste for banana bread. I wanted something else. Something easier, or at least more exciting. A cookie. There’s nothing I love more in the world than a cookie.

Well, that’s not entirely true, but you get my point.

I had hardly a starting place with the recipe. No instructions. No advice. This was all I found:

2 1/4 c. flour
1 c. sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. soda
3/4 tsp. salt
2/3 c. butter
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
1 c. smashed bananas

So I decided to wing it. To discover the adventure as I went along. Ulla was entirely supportive. Bless her heart.

It all began with the butter. Delightful, melting, stick-to-my-rear butter. I’ve followed other cookie recipes, so I know it’s a good idea to whip it up real nice. So I did.

And how about the sugar? Because Ulla thought is was a good idea to get it going. And I trust her entirely.

So when Ulla did her business, I had a fluffy buttery sugary goodness like this.

Now I’m not sure why, but most recipes require you to mix up the dry ingredients separately. So that’s what I did.

But this is also where I started getting creative. I threw all reason out of the window and decided to follow my gut. I actually added elements. Can you believe it? Me. Not following a recipe. And do you know what this means? You’re now officially reading my recipe. My own. I invented it. I did it. It’s mine. Your welcome.

I dumped the flour, the soda, the powder and the salt. And then to make it my baby, I dumped just a titch of cinnamon. And then a titch more of cinnamon. And some cinnamon on top. Because you can never have too much cinnamon. But if you’re worried, about a teaspoon is perfect.

Once that was all good and mixed, I went back to the fluffy buttery sugary goodness and threw in a couple eggs and some vanilla. Churnin, yearnin, hurnin. (Hurnin? I don’t know. It just rhymed.)

Because this is a recipe for banana drops, it was time to add the bananas. I figured it was a good time since bananas aren’t quite a dry and probably more likely a wet. But I didn’t mix it much. You know, left some chunks.

Ulla and I took turns dumping and whomping until the dry ingredients were mixed.

It was sticky. And a little runny. So I was worried, but Ulla seemed to think it was okay.

I dropped some clumps of dough onto an ungreased cookie sheet. Dropped because they’re banana drops. Get the reference?

I’d like to interrupt this session to bring your attention to my left thumb. Fluorescent fuchsia. Do you like it? Isn’t it wonderfully feminine? Enchanting? Charming?  It’s the first time in at least a couple years I’ve had anything but naked on my fingers. I’m not normally inclined to paint them, particularly because once I get the tiniest little chip, I pick away until all the paint is gone. It cannot be uneven. Imperfect. Haggard. I’d perseverate. But this was for a good cause. I was supporting a co-worker’s 10-year-old daughter in her efforts to raise money for a band trip. I have a weakness for band. And making a statement. Fluorescent fuchsia in the name of music is a statement I’m willing to make.

Plus, everyone should have pink nails when they make cookies. It builds confidence.

Ahem. Let’s continue.

Because we’ve established that nothing can go wrong with cinnamon, I sprinkled some cinnamon-sugar over the top. It made me very happy on the inside. Very nice. Very pretty.

So now they go in the oven at about 375 degrees. The first batch took about 10 minutes to cook. Golden around the edges. You know, the usual “done” factor. The second batch took about 12 minutes. And the third batch took 15. But that’s when I realized I had accidentally turned off the oven completely, and the temperature was about 214 degrees. Don’t do this. Do as I say, not as I do.

If kept to temperature, they’ll come out looking something like this.

Something like snickerdoodles, right? They aren’t. Far from it. And I’ll be honest with you, they don’t really taste much like cookies. They’re kind of like really small, really thin individual banana muffins. But slightly sweeter. The texture of the cookie leans more toward bread than cookie. But in all, not bad.

But not good enough for me either. Because I was being adventurous. And inventive. And because they were truly missing something. Something warm. And dark. And slightly bitter but awesomely decadent. Chocolate chips. So I added a mess of them to the dough. Less than I wanted, but just enough to hear Brandon say, “the chocolate takes away from the banana flavor.” Take that how you want. I take it just right.