Back when I was still in high school, my mom came home from work one day clutching a photocopied hand-written banana bread recipe. She claimed it was the best banana bread she had ever tasted in her life. It was a pretty bold statement, but she stood by it. She even stopped by the store on her way home to buy a bunch of bananas so they could ripen for the bread.
Posts in: misc
There was a time in my life when I ate oyakodons for lunch every day. I didn’t get sick of them, in fact, the more I ate them, the more I craved them. I would be in a lecture, (not) listening to the professor, and thinking about the oyakodon I would soon be eating. The oyakondons were not particularly good, in fact, they weren’t; I was just obsessed.
My mom hates cinnamon with a passion, so growing up, I never knew the joy of cinnamon sugar toast, snickerdoodles or pumpkin pie at home. She can smell the stuff a mile away, and always steers clear. Even now, when I bake something for her with the tiniest amount of cinnamon, she will wrinkle her nose like a four year old and say, “Ew. Cinnamon.”