verbicide | sunday breakfast (Reply)

I made Jeff some banana bread.

The first time I made 'banana' bread, Jeff was apparently quietly and politely horrified. I was at Trader Joe's and they had a banana bread mix. And I thought--how cool! So I bought it and some chocolate chips and made some chocolate chip banana bread. People seemed to like it. Jeff tasted it and said, "Huh. I like it... (LIE) but it's not very banana-y..." I'd told him, "It was so easy! I just tossed everything into my bread machine!" "When did you add the bananas?" "Um.. it's a mix. I didn't add bananas..." "..."

So, I made it again. Same box mix. But I added a couple of mashed bananas. Jeff: "Um, no it's good.."

Then a neighbor gave me a recipe and loaned me a bundt pan, and I made it for the third time a few months ago. It was really only then that I realized how strongly Jeff had felt all along. He practically sputtered.

Jeff: THIS is banana bread. What you made earlier? That? Was NOT banana bread.
Me: Yeah, yeah. yeah.

And now whenever I make it, we revisit the First Banana Bread of Non Banana-y-ness. He's so clearly repulsed by the memory of that banana bread which was clearly an insult to real banana bread everywhere. I'm surprised he didn't wallop me across the face with a white glove the first time.

Today he added: "You're a baker. That was beneath you." Me: *eyeroll*

He's such a princess.