Remember when everyone went through a baking banana bread phase during the pandemic? I was late to the game. It’s funny because you would expect me of all people, the avid baker, to spearhead the banana bread movement. Nope haha.
I never really saw the appeal. More importantly, I never had rotting bananas, which are a fundamental ingredient to the recipe. I always thought it was weird to use rotting bananas instead of ripe bananas, but it makes sense because the bananas get mushed in the batter and rotting bananas are much softer than ripe ones. Bananas also get sweeter as they ripen, so the robust sweetness of rotting bananas helps sweeten the bread.
I hopped on the trend pretty late. It happened one day when there were a couple rotting bananas in my parent’s fruit basket that sits next to the TV (never really understood why they keep it next to the TV). I made it once for my family, and they loved it. After that, my dad would purposely go buy discounted rotting bananas at the local Asian market so that I could make more banana bread. My mom eventually also learned how to make it, so for a few months, we always had banana bread in the kitchen. My parents recently subscribed to my blog… hi mom and dad.
Figure 1. I came home today, and my parents have rotting bananas in the TV fruit basket. I haven’t even published this article yet…
Now that I’m in college, I don’t get to make banana bread for my family as often. One funny memory I have during my sophomore year winter break when I was home was seeing two rotting bananas in the TV fruit basket. Next to it was a new bunch of bananas that my dad had just bought from Costco. I made a note to myself to use the two rotting bananas and make banana bread later that day.
My youngest brother’s name is Edward. He loves eating bananas. If I had to guess, he eats at least two per day. He also really likes throwing the peels in our shared bathroom trash, to which I usually tell him not to do because it stinks up our bathroom.
Anyways, later that day, I went back to the TV fruit basket just to find that one of the rotting bananas was gone, which meant I didn’t have enough to make banana bread.
“Dad, do you know where the other rotting banana went?” I asked.
“Edward ate it.” He replied.
Huh? Edward had two options: a banana that was completely brown and unappetizing and a whole new bunch of bananas, and he managed to choose the former.
“Edward! Why did you take the rotting banana?” My voice echoed throughout the house.
“What did you say?” Edward yelled back. Of course he couldn’t hear me. He was on the other side of the house.
My dad laughed. “He wanted to save the good bananas for you, now that you’re home!”
It’s such a weird concept. You use rotten bananas that are beyond redemption and mix them with some flour and eggs to make a scrumptious banana bread.
It’s too late to eat the bananas, but they can still be turned into something beautiful…
The beauty that comes out of being too late has been a very apparent theme in my life. The average dancer starts training at the ripe age of three to start building strength, control, and flexibility while their muscles are still malleable. Unlike other girls at my studio, I started at the elderly age of eight, which meant that I already lost five years of training. Throughout my first few years on the competitive dance team, I struggled to keep up with my peers, as they could hold their leg next to their face and could do twice the number of spins than me. It always felt like it was too late to start dance because everyone was so ahead. However, as time passed, my technique eventually caught up, and I became a semi-decent dancer on my competitive team.
As a junior, I was worried that it would be too late to make new friends as friend groups settled down. It felt impossible to meet new people when I lived off-campus and would go home at the end of the day instead of a dorm with hundreds of other students or eat at home instead of a bustling dining hall. Especially after deciding to graduate early without having the certainty of staying on campus for senior year, it really felt like it was too late to make new friends since my time at Cornell would be cut short. However, some of my most meaningful friendships have formed during junior year. I got close with Grace Li after sharing four classes with her in the fall, and we’ve spent several hours yapping our lives away in her living room. I became friends with Valerie after taking a class with her in the fall and sharing several Cornell Dairy Bar ice cream cones with her. Sometimes I joke that my new niche of friends is senior girls.
Figure 2. Grace and Grace basking in the sun on Slope Day
Figure 3. Valerie and I wore the same thing to church!
On the day that I’m writing this, I am sitting at JFK, getting ready to fly home for summer break. My lovely friend Jonah and I road tripped down to New York City from Ithaca, where we told silly stories and sang silly songs.
Figure 4. Jonah and I are off to New York City! Both on less than 2 hours of sleep!
After Jonah dropped me off in NYC, I ran to the subway, hoping to catch the F train to the airport. I was 5 seconds too late, and I watched the subway pull away from the station as I shoved my suitcase through the turnstile. Because I missed this first train, it pushed back my entire commute for all the subsequent trains to the airport.
I took the next F train and got off at the transfer station. As I waited for the A train, a petite elderly woman walked up to me and asked if I was going to the airport. My suitcase really gave it away.
I nodded, and she explained that she needed to go to the station before the airport to meet her husband, and she wasn’t sure which train to take. She asked if it would be okay if she tagged along with me since I was heading in the same direction— like a travel buddy! Of course I was a little thrown aback, but she seemed pretty lost, so I agreed, and we waited for the metro together. Once it came, she stepped on first and made a pathway for me with her arms so that I could push through the crowd. It felt very motherly, and it was really sweet. There were two open seats next to each other, and she ushered me to sit with her.
“What’s your name?”
“Alene. You are?”
“I’m Grace.”
She asked where I was traveling to, and I told her that I was going home to California for summer break. She told me that she recently traveled to California to visit her daughter and her family. As we chatted during the long ride, she shared her entire life story, from immigrating from Albania, to the hardships of raising three children in Brooklyn, to now being retired and watching her eight grandchildren grow up, I couldn’t help but smile at her. She asked me how many siblings I had, and I said two younger brothers. She grew excited because it matched her three kids: an older daughter and two sons. She pulled out her phone and showed me pictures of her kids and grandchildren at various family gatherings.
As we approached her station, she thanked me endlessly for helping her. She reached out for my hand and grasped it (in the most motherly and uncreepy way, I promise) and wished me the best of luck with college. She got off the metro, turned around, and cheerfully waved at me as the door closed.
“Goodbye Grace!”
And just like that, I would never see this elderly Albanian woman ever again.
If I wasn’t late and didn’t miss that first F train, I would’ve taken an earlier A train. If I had taken the earlier A train, I would’ve never met Alene. If I had never met Alene, I would’ve never heard her story or be encouraged by her lovely nature. By simply being too late for my train to JFK, I had one of the most beautiful encounters with a stranger on the metro.
I get so discouraged when I am behind or I miss a perfect opportunity. I hate being late. But sometimes, a small mishap in time can lead to an unexpected or better outcome. Being late isn’t the end all be all. Life keeps moving, just like banana bread: the bananas will keep on ripening until they are rotten. Even if they’re past the window of being edible, there is still hope for rotten bananas in banana bread. They still have value, for they bring moisture, sweetness, and texture to make the most delicious loaf.
I hope that this gives you a glimmer a hope. Perhaps you can apply it to something else in your life. Perhaps you think I’m being too sappy or unrealistic. Oh well lol. Regardless, you can enjoy a picture of my most recent banana bread loaf.
Figure 5. My banana bread from a few weeks ago