Memories of Bananas Foster

Dearest Rachel –

There are so many things about this trip that seem to be reminding me of our honeymoon trip; maybe it’s just that I’m keeping track for once in my life. Before now, I might have a flash of remembrance – I might even mention it to you at the moment – but with the passing of that moment, the thought, the memory would fade and disappear, and I would have no record of it. Now, I find myself writing down every thought that occurs to me as it does, lest I forget it before I can remind you of it, and in the process, I remind myself.

Back in the day, we found ourselves at the MGM Studio (which I understand has since been renamed, but I’ve no idea to what), and had lunch at a place modeled after Hollywood’s Brown Derby. We were served this for dessert, and had to ask how it was made.

As it happened, it was simple enough that they were willing to share, and whether we wrote it down at the time, we did try it a few times once we got back home. We would just heat up some banana liqueur, add a few spices like cinnamon, cloves and/or nutmeg, and sauté a couple of sliced bananas in the mixture until the liquid thickened from burning off. Then, we would pour the result over a few scoops of vanilla ice cream, and serve it straightaway.

Somewhere along the way, however, you developed some kind of reaction to bananas. Not an allergy, exactly, but a slight case of indigestion that meant that eating banana would find them repeating on you for a good portion of the rest of the day. It wasn’t as unpleasant as with lettuce or cucumbers, but you didn’t enjoy it, regardless. And so, we gave up bananas and lettuce and cucumbers, and this dish faded into the back of my memory.

Until now, and seeing it on the dining room menu. It’s not necessarily as glorious in terms of taste as I remember – maybe it’s lacking all those spices, and they mentioned a caramel sauce (although why I should object to the latter, I’ve no idea) – but it’s still worth writing home about, if only because of the old, buried memories it brings up.

I wish I could share these sorts of things with you, but I have to console myself with the fact that you couldn’t enjoy this even if you were around. Maybe that’s changed, where you are, and you don’t have these issues any more. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Until next time, honey, take care, and keep an eye out for me.


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I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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