I like to bust my mom's chops regaling this story any chance I get about that time she tried to over stuff me with bananas:
My mom lived back with her parents when I was first born because my dad was Chief Engineer on a ship traveling most of the year. She was a new mom and didn't want to stay at our house alone. So in this instance, she jumps up, runs to her parents room, shrieking to wake them.
Upon hearing the news, Nana effortlessly pulled an OJ Simpson football jump and in one swift motion was up and running for the car; Poppy, always great under pressure, grabs me, somehow whips up a batch of some kind of rice that can soothe something(?) because Poppy just knew these things; and my mom dialed the doctor to see what to do.
Long story short (too late!), we ended up in the ER with my mom panicked and recounting how I "just kept opening my mouth for more" and "she seemed like she liked-no LOVED them" and then bam! Sick.
My pediatrician assured her I simply overate and provided instructions on how to fix me. However, the moral of this story lies in the cold hard truth that I have not enjoyed banana anything in thirty years out of my thirty and a half years on this planet because of the banana debacle of '86.
Until today. I had 2 bananas of Hunter's needing to be used and a whole lot of zucchini so I googled "easy banana zucchini bread recipes" and followed the yellow brick road to my kitchen. This.bread.is.so.good. My newfound potassium opportunities are endless, my friends.
Let's meet again,