{"id":2690,"date":"2018-08-25T17:39:48","date_gmt":"2018-08-25T22:39:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/?p=2690"},"modified":"2018-11-05T19:13:27","modified_gmt":"2018-11-06T01:13:27","slug":"the-banana-incident-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/2018\/08\/the-banana-incident-2\/","title":{"rendered":"The Banana Incident"},"content":{"rendered":"

I hate bananas.<\/p>\n

Actually, hate is inadequate to describe the depth of my feeling. So is despise, detest, abhor, loathe and revile.<\/p>\n

Bananas assault all of my senses.<\/p>\n

The wet sticky sound when you eat them reminds me of dogs licking themselves. The smell gags me. The cloying drape of the peel makes me shudder. When I was a kid, my brothers tortured me with banana peels, laying them across my face while taking a nap. I\u2019d wake up, sputter and fling the peel across the room.\u00a0 I\u2019ll admit I haven\u2019t tasted a banana in at least 60 years, but I\u2019m not about to give them another chance.\u00a0 The phallic implications of the visual are disturbing.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

I\u2019ve always been discreet about my banana issue, except for one salient event about thirty-five years ago.\u00a0 Nick and I were newlyweds in the Chicago, looking to expand our social circle.\u00a0 Jay and Sallie, also newlyweds, were prime candidates.\u00a0 We had some mutual friends, all of us athletic and sharing the same hobbies and interests.\u00a0 I could see a long friendship, the type that becomes as comfortable as a pair of old shoes.<\/p>\n

I was excited to solidify our friendship when Sallie invited us for dinner.\u00a0 They were also newlyweds and I wondered if they shared my agenda.\u00a0 Sallie had invited another couple \u2013 young, athletic and cute. I felt a bit of competition and jealousy, particularly since this couple was younger and more athletic.\u00a0 After all, his name was Jock.\u00a0 Maybe Sallie thought they’d be their perfect friends, but I knew I had a leg up.\u00a0 The couple was from the East coast, transferred from some New York bank. They were just doing their time in Chicago waiting to be called back to their home town.<\/p>\n

I knew the type. Dartmouth squash players who\u2019d be surprised you couldn\u2019t see all the way across Lake Michigan or wonder if you could turn right on red all the way out here in the Midwest, or say they missed the smell of salt water. I wanted Sallie to know I was in it for the long haul, I was a Midwesterner, a low key and loyal friend. I went into the kitchen to help while the other nibbled on hors d\u2019oeuvres in the living room.<\/p>\n

She was stressed out, worrying about the entr\u00e9es, the timing, whether or not she had the right garnish. I told her to relax, everything would be great and then offered to take over the dessert. \u00a0She wanted to duplicate a souffl\u00e9 she\u2019d seen Julia Child make.\u00a0 She had set a high bar, not only Julia Child, but souffl\u00e9, a very fussy dessert requiring exquisite timing and a deft hand with the soft white peaks of egg whites.\u00a0 Sallie handed me a bowl and I prepared to whip up some egg whites.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t egg whites.\u00a0 It was a bowl of over ripe bananas.\u00a0 \u201cHere, can you mash them up?\u201d Sallie asked.<\/p>\n

I was anticipating a chocolate souffl\u00e9, a lemon souffl\u00e9, anything besides a banana souffle.<\/p>\n

Decision time. Big decision.\u00a0 I\u2019m not kidding, bananas are a serious problem for me. The sight and smell of the bananas set my salivary glands gushing and I had to repeatedly swallow to keep from succumbing.\u00a0 My usual work around is to find a plausible reason to leave the room when bananas are present. This was not an option.<\/p>\n

If I took that bowl and started mashing, that would be a lie, and not the most promising way to begin a friendship. I also might upchuck in the process. And if I mashed those bananas I\u2019d be committing myself to eating the souffl\u00e9 \u2013 another possible upchuck event. If my acting skills were good enough, Sallie might think banana souffl\u00e9 was my favorite and make it her \u201cgo-to\u201d dessert at all our meals together. Until we died.<\/p>\n

And then there was the tyranny of the lie. Once made it would be hard to undo. If I ate bananas once, and then again, and then fessed up, wouldn\u2019t Sallie think this was the worst kind of betrayal? Or patronizing, trying to make her feel good about her cooking skills? \u00a0I could tell her right up front about my troubled relationship with bananas, but I didn\u2019t want to aggravate her frenzy. I had come into the kitchen to help, not to reveal that her dessert would make me vomit.\u00a0 What kind of friend is that?<\/p>\n

I felt the tightening grasp of the humble banana.\u00a0 It held the power to scuttle a promising friendship.<\/p>\n

Options and their implications whirred through my mind in the second or two to decide whether to accept the assignment. \u201cHand me the bowl,\u201d I said, \u201cI\u2019ll mash them for you. Banana souffl\u00e9, what a great idea for dessert.\u201d<\/p>\n

I kicked the can down the road, embraced the lie, accepted the consequences, the most immediate being eating the dessert.\u00a0 But it seemed worth it.\u00a0 I could handle it.<\/p>\n

I mouth breathed to block the smell as I mashed the bananas into sticky, dog ball-licking slurry.\u00a0 Eyes wincing, swallowing hard, but I got it done.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

I whipped up the egg whites, folded them in, shoved the concoction in the oven.\u00a0 I have no recollection of the entr\u00e9e, which was probably a thing of beauty.\u00a0 I was numb, reading the final course.<\/p>\n

The desert looked gorgeous.\u00a0 Julia Child would be proud.\u00a0 It had risen well outside the bowl and had a nicely browned crust. Sallie served it with a flourish.\u00a0 \u00a0\u201cLook what Liza helped me make. It\u2019s a banana souffl\u00e9. It looks just like Julia Childs\u2019!\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

I steeled myself for the final assault, hoping a massive dollop of whipped cream would blunt the taste. Nick looked up surprised. \u201cSallie I can\u2019t believe Liza helped you. She hates bananas. In fact she can\u2019t be in the same room as a banana.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was outed. Ashamed, devastated, a friendship in ruins before it even started.<\/p>\n

The room fell silent. I didn\u2019t know what to say. I had been prepared to live with the lie, but wanted to manage its inevitable reveal, soften the blow. But my lie lay openly on the table for everyone to see.<\/p>\n

My sweet husband sensed the disaster he\u2019d created and rose to my defense. \u201cSallie, you should be honored. Liza has never given me the same consideration. I love bananas, but she makes me eat them by myself in the car. I\u2019m impressed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Sallie, to her great credit, blushed. \u201cLiza, I\u2019m so sorry.\u00a0 You didn\u2019t have to do that.\u201d<\/p>\n

And then I covered myself in apologies as I pushed the dessert aside.\u00a0\u00a0 Everyone else raved about the dessert.\u00a0 Nick ate mine as well.<\/p>\n

Nick\u2019s outing was the best resolution to the dilemma.\u00a0 An impulsive lie, following by a quick reveal.\u00a0 It was like ripping a band aid off, positioning the banana incident as a testimony to my loyalty and support.\u00a0 We\u2019ve been best friends ever since.\u00a0 That other couple has long since scurried back to their motherland on the East Coast to smell the salt water.<\/p>\n

Someday I\u2019ll get around to telling Sallie about my issues with peanut butter and black olives.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

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I hate bananas. Actually, hate is inadequate to describe the depth of my feeling. So is despise, detest, abhor, loathe and revile. Bananas assault all of my senses. The wet sticky sound when you eat them reminds me of dogs … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":true,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[30,11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2690","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-food-stuff","category-what-i-did"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7iVc8-Ho","post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2690","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2690"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2690\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2715,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2690\/revisions\/2715"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2690"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2690"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2690"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}