Of Bananas...
My mother makes very nice milkshake, and I happen to have a liking for bananas so banana milkshake it is! Plus, in my mother's words - "so rich in potassium, you eat one banana everyday and nothing will happen to you." She made milkshake ever so often as an after-breakfast beverage...but other things in life began getting more importance, like oatmeal.
2009- My 1st attempt at getting banana milkshake after this long gap:
Me: Amma, I want banana milkshake. It's been so long.
Amma: (Tamil) You just had breakfast! Why?
Me: It tastes yummy! (makes a spoilt, I'm-going-to-throw-a-tantrum face)
Amma agrees to give me milkshake. What joy...such a beautiful morning!
Amma puts a banana and a glass of milk in front of me.
Amma: Make the milkshake in your mouth!
I don't know what to say. My eyes keep darting from the raw food resources to her. She's too busy to laugh for more than a minute. I'm too amused. I'm more greedy and hungry than annoyed so I just take one bite of the banana and one gulp of milk and feel quite content.
Later in 2009- My 2nd attempt at getting banana milkshake after the mixer-grinder got new blades (or so I thought):
Me: Amma, please make banana milkshake.
Amma: Ok, but you just ate breakfast. You're over-eating. Be careful. (some Tamil dialogue)
I think of taking this warning seriously...for life. Temptation wins.
Me: No, it's ok. I have space! (eyes shining with joy)
Amma places a glass before me. Inside is a concoction of sweetened milk with mashed banana bits...reasonably big (a baby might just be able to swallow the bits if it's smart enough). Clearly, she had mashed the ripest banana into a glass and topped it with milk and sugar.
Amma: I don't think the mixer is working and it's too much work anyway. It's a good exercise for your mouth (Tamil). Bon apetite! (makes the wide-eyed Mr. Bean face)
Again, I am at a loss for words. I think of potassium and my canines and the respect I have for my mother's culinary efforts and blissfully work my way through the milkshake.
2011- Amma sees me writing this post.
Amma: I'll make banana milkshake tomorrow.
Me: No, I just wanted to say something funny!
Amma: I can see that you're yearning for it.
Happy days are back!
Amma: That way, one banana and a glass of milk will go into you. (said in Tamil)
Amma says this in reference to my not eating bananas like I used to, and my lack of respect for the poor man's fruit. Yes, Amma. I know that the bananas rot in your absence.
Amma is now rejoicing at the thought of a fresh bowl of yellow nutrition on the table tomorrow...
...and now we are taking a slippery walk down the lane of fruity, banana nostalgia. Our experiences with bananas in San Antonio, 1996...the scenario might be quite different now...in terms of size...
Amma: (Tamil) Bananas in the USA were so big. When you were a kid, you would eat just a little and give the rest to Appa, who voluntarily accepted them. That's how Appa started eating bananas.
My mother makes very nice milkshake, and I happen to have a liking for bananas so banana milkshake it is! Plus, in my mother's words - "so rich in potassium, you eat one banana everyday and nothing will happen to you." She made milkshake ever so often as an after-breakfast beverage...but other things in life began getting more importance, like oatmeal.
2009- My 1st attempt at getting banana milkshake after this long gap:
Me: Amma, I want banana milkshake. It's been so long.
Amma: (Tamil) You just had breakfast! Why?
Me: It tastes yummy! (makes a spoilt, I'm-going-to-throw-a-tantrum face)
Amma agrees to give me milkshake. What joy...such a beautiful morning!
Amma puts a banana and a glass of milk in front of me.
Amma: Make the milkshake in your mouth!
I don't know what to say. My eyes keep darting from the raw food resources to her. She's too busy to laugh for more than a minute. I'm too amused. I'm more greedy and hungry than annoyed so I just take one bite of the banana and one gulp of milk and feel quite content.
Later in 2009- My 2nd attempt at getting banana milkshake after the mixer-grinder got new blades (or so I thought):
Me: Amma, please make banana milkshake.
Amma: Ok, but you just ate breakfast. You're over-eating. Be careful. (some Tamil dialogue)
I think of taking this warning seriously...for life. Temptation wins.
Me: No, it's ok. I have space! (eyes shining with joy)
Amma places a glass before me. Inside is a concoction of sweetened milk with mashed banana bits...reasonably big (a baby might just be able to swallow the bits if it's smart enough). Clearly, she had mashed the ripest banana into a glass and topped it with milk and sugar.
Amma: I don't think the mixer is working and it's too much work anyway. It's a good exercise for your mouth (Tamil). Bon apetite! (makes the wide-eyed Mr. Bean face)
Again, I am at a loss for words. I think of potassium and my canines and the respect I have for my mother's culinary efforts and blissfully work my way through the milkshake.
2011- Amma sees me writing this post.
Amma: I'll make banana milkshake tomorrow.
Me: No, I just wanted to say something funny!
Amma: I can see that you're yearning for it.
Happy days are back!
Amma: That way, one banana and a glass of milk will go into you. (said in Tamil)
Amma says this in reference to my not eating bananas like I used to, and my lack of respect for the poor man's fruit. Yes, Amma. I know that the bananas rot in your absence.
Amma is now rejoicing at the thought of a fresh bowl of yellow nutrition on the table tomorrow...
...and now we are taking a slippery walk down the lane of fruity, banana nostalgia. Our experiences with bananas in San Antonio, 1996...the scenario might be quite different now...in terms of size...
Amma: (Tamil) Bananas in the USA were so big. When you were a kid, you would eat just a little and give the rest to Appa, who voluntarily accepted them. That's how Appa started eating bananas.
