Banana Cookies on Sunday

This time every year, when summer and freedom are just out of grasp and I can count the school days left on two hands, the weeks seem to stretch into eternities of stressful projects and late nights finishing homework. By the time I walk in the back door on Friday afternoon, and let my backpack fall to the floor, I'm ready to pass out on the couch with a chilled glass of juice and a good book. Friday afternoon always fades effortlessly into Sunday morning and assignments and their looming deadlines that were left behind, neglected, have to be faced head on and painstakingly started. It's the first step that's always the worst, especially when there are chocolate chips in the house.

To get through those final hours of homework, when I'd really rather be doing anything else, it always helps to have a little motivation and plenty of breaks in between. I set down my homework, preheat the oven, find that bag of chocolate chips, and dance through the kitchen with the carefree mind of someone who hasn't seen homework in years.

Making a batch of cookies is so perfectly rhythmic and peaceful, that the nagging homework can disappear for just a moment or two. Mashing up a ripe banana, gently cracking open an egg over a glass, beating chocolate chips into dough, allow all of my pent up stress to simply melt away. And of course, cookies and comics combine to make a fine Sunday morning too.

Le Croque-Madame

We recently began a unit on restaurant conversation in French class. As if the tantalizing promise of summer wasn't enough of a distraction, I now find myself daydreaming about eating warm croissants and breaking off pieces of fresh baguettes when I should be conjugating prendre in the past tense. One worksheet we were given for this unit had step by step illustrations of a recipe for a croque-monsieur.

The croque-monsieur, a french classic, is simply a grilled ham and cheese sandwich topped with melted cheese. On the handout each step was accompanied by a simple cartoon, beginning with two thick slices of bread, spreading on soft butter, topping with grated cheese, and finishing with the toasted sandwich - melted cheese falling slowly down the sides - being removed from the oven. Both my interest in french food and my hunger (French being my last class of the day) elevated this simple sandwich to gourmet status in my mind.

Upon further research I discovered the croque-madame - the monsieur's wife I suppose - an intriguing variation topped with an egg, sunny side up, and  cheesy, white sauce.

It ended up being that cheesy sauce mornay that gave me the most trouble. While cooking the sauce I got caught up in the thickening process, watching  as it became thicker and thicker, and lost sight of the consistency I wanted. I ended up letting it cook for too long leaving me with a sauce that was almost too thick to pour. Luckily there was some heavy cream left, so after a slight panic I was able to thin the sauce.

The finished sandwich was flavorful, incredibly rich, and of the must-be-eaten-with-a-knife-and-fork variety. It was very indulgent... and very French.

Pumpkin Buttermilk Pancakes

I dragged myself out of bed early Saturday morning. As I trudged downstairs I could hear my sister and her friend M- talking over their breakfast. They both had exams scheduled for the morning, and had to drive out to the school bright and early. I had to be up for a basketball game; our team's first game of the weekend long tournament would be at nine. It had been a while since our last game, and as I searched through the kitchen cupboards for something to eat, my stomach was clouded with butterflies. I didn't feel hungry, but I choked down a handful of dry cereal anyway so I wouldn't be playing on an empty stomach.

After digging through a mountain of laundry to find my jersey and packing up my bag, I sat down with M- and my sister at the dining room table. We read through the paper and laughed at the "Dear Annie" column, and they told me about their plans after the tests.  As it was approaching time for them to leave, my mom came downstairs looking tired and still in her pajamas. She looked surprised to see me up, and told me she had left a note on my bedside table that I had missed; as it turned out our first game wouldn't be until later that afternoon. My mom wished them both luck before heading back up to bed. M- and my sister drove off for exams, my parents were still sleeping, and the house was quiet....Suddenly having plenty of time, my stress and nerves melted away. For the first time that morning I heard the birds singing, and the sun felt warm against my skin. I opened up Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and began to read. But I was soon interrupted by an empty stomach. The butterflies gone, I was hungry for a real breakfast. I set down the book and went back into the kitchen. My first thought was pancakes. Banana pancakes. But, bananas never last long in our house, and our fruit bowl was empty.

Opening the fridge a leftover carton of buttermilk caught my eye. I've always loved buttermilk pancakes; their light fluffy texture and sweetness, and a name that just rolls off the tongue... and forget bananas, blueberry buttermilk pancakes would be delicious!