On Tuesday, Mike and I drove up to South Lake Tahoe to see what was what. We are happy to report that Gma and Gpa seem to be doing well. We went up with the intent to work, clean-up and help out, but there was no helping to be done. Well, there was a little, but neither of them would let us lift a finger. They seemed grateful for the company and we all enjoyed talking together.
The one thing Grandma did do was let me "help" her make her famous Banana Cake. I am not kidding when I say it is famous. If you know my grandma, and if you're lucky and she likes you, you can get on her list for cakes. Not everyone gets one. And if you ever call it "banana bread" you are immediately off the list. She has been making them for years and years, and always has bananas blackening in the kitchen and loaves wrapped in plastic, bagged and labeled, for her next distribution run. Before my grandfather got a color printer, he used to print the paper labels in black and white, and they'd sit and hand-color them together with colored pencils.
The labels, and the cake, have evolved over the years. Though she makes jams, mango cakes and a few other things now and then, Banana Cake is still my grandma's specialty (without nuts, though she will make one with nuts or even chocolate chips if you ask her nicely enough). She has always said that the recipe would go with her when she goes, though occasionally she threatens to give it to other people.
One evening about a month ago, I was on the phone with her, and she just recited it to me, out of the blue. Thank goodness I was in my office and not driving in the car. I grabbed a piece of paper and scrambled to take detailed notes. This was a very big deal. Now that I've seen her make it, I realize that the recipe is only part of the story. Sorry, but I can't give it to you, so you just have to trust me that it's very good. Maybe if you're nice, I'll let you taste it.
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