[As seen at the SLC Share Our Strength Bake Sale.]
Banana bread and I have had a tumultuous past. On the few occasions my mom broke out the Betty Crocker quick bread box, I experienced the sweet, downright intoxicating smells of bananas (pre-mashed in a pouch). Eating was more of an obligatory ritual. The Country Crock spread slathered liberally over the too-moist, rubbery slice.
Even now in life, the supermarket versions are rarely up to snuff. Banana bread to me is what my Mormon friend says coffee is to her. She LOVES the aroma. Hates the taste.