Mrs.Pitt's Gluten-Free Mrs. Hockmeyer's Banana Bread Muffins

 

When I first married 27 years ago, I hadn't a clue how to cook. As a teen, I'd regularly heat up a can of stewed tomatoes and pour it over angel hair pasta; Campbell's chicken noodle soup and haunting 30 cent packages of ramen were on rotation. Lunches during my break from my shift at the grocery store flower shop consisted of two or three slices of Hummel's bologna and one slice of American cheese I'd order from Charlotte at the deli. These delicacies would be placed on a fresh baked hard roll, as would the contents of a packet of mustard after I had trekked up the stairs to the break room for this gourmet meal. I spent under a dollar for each lunch and I was always pleased with that aspect. When I got married and started to have to prepare, "real meals" with a tad bit bigger of a budget, I lived in South Africa and made lots of sandwiches for lunches and trial-by-fire meals which were OK--I mean we kept alive. I wasn't working and had a lot of time to plan and experiment, but meals were extremely simple, I didn't know much about spices or anything culinary. I believe it was still lots of pastas, meatballs and because my husband is South African and we lived in South Africa, lots of beef, mainly steak. I do remember my Afrikaans neighbor teaching me how to make a rice bake where you throw everything in a pot and bake it. That was quite good. But, as obvious, nothing too memorable. Of course, as a newlywed, the husband didn't complain. 
Pretty soon afterward, we returned to the States and I began working full-time. As I've admitted before, I remember feeling very impressed with myself for heating up Stouffer's Salisbury Steak in the microwave and whipping up some mashed potatoes for our dinner. I could boil pasta, open a jar of sauce and cut up vegetables for a salad. I honestly cannot remember what I possibly made for dinner other than those simple dinners. I recently asked my husband what he remembers and he recalled, "um...Salisbury steak, pasta and of course steak." Steak is a given. He also reminded me that I'd make kielbasa and "boxed mac 'n cheese" which was something I was introduced to on a youth group camping trip and it's always been a favorite combination of mine.
However, in the first few years of my marriage, I had a goal to learn how to cook savory meals for my husband. Enter Rachael Ray and others whom I had just started seeing on television. Additionally, the interwebs had come into play so I could begin looking up recipes! But, Rachael Ray was lovable, down-to-earth and explained things that I could understand and remember and execute well.

So, as I would even do to this day, when I want a recipe, I typed, "best [item] recipe." Well, one day when I had several ripened bananas, I opened google and typed, "best banana bread recipe." 

And, here is that simple, but incredible recipe. I have made this banana bread now for over twenty years. Of course, as I've become more confident in my kitchen, I have created tangents from the original. I now sometimes add four spices to mine (cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg and a dash of ginger.) I've added less sugar, but honey and/or maple syrup. Sometimes, I keep it to the original. But, the response I often hear after someone eats it is, "Oh my goodness, this is THE BEST banana bread I've ever had"...specifically since I have started making them into banana bread muffins. And, to know they genuinely love and crave it, I will get a follow up call, email or text reminding me to "send that recipe!"

So, just last week for our midweek study, I made two dozen banana bread muffins. This time, I did something completely different in that I used gluten free flour because I wanted to be sure all present could eat them. But, as a final act, I dusted them with confectioner's sugar. It was a spur of the moment act. Perfection. And, friends commented on the deliciousness and again one person asked for the recipe and also followed up with a text. For some reason, it got me thinking about the original recipe and I wondered if I could actually find who this Mrs. Hockmeyer was. Historically, whenever I pass on the recipe, I always give credit to Mrs. Hockmeyer. I can't explain why I wanted to suddenly dig for my mentor's origins and whereabouts. But, a simple google search unearthed a treasure. 

I discovered something enlightening. Mrs. Hockmeyer's Banana Bread Recipe was in fact celebrating it's 10th year as the most downloaded banana bread recipe in interweb's history as of 2023. Although no one in my circle had ever presented this recipe to me, tens of thousands of other were right along with me in creating this simple masterpiece each year. I was elated to find an article showcasing the recipe, it's legacy and origins. I guess I was unknowingly part of this banana bread trend and years later many were asking the same thing I was--who is Mrs.Hockmeyer! Well, Elise Bauer from Simply Recipes explains:
https://www.simplyrecipes.com/the-internets-most-popular-banana-bread-recipe-7377365

Specifically: 

It was heartwarming to find this piece of history that I've held so dear to my heart. I've enlarged and printed up Mrs.Hockmeyer's recipe card and I will display it in my kitchen. I wish I could thank Mrs. Hockmeyer herself. But, I'm thankful to Elise Bauer from Simply Recipes for providing this recipe so many years ago. I don't know the exact date as of yet, but I do know I've been making it for approximately 20 years because I put the recipe in a church recipe book (titled, Mrs. Hockmeyer's Banana Bread) before 2008. 

Thankfully, I am cooking quite differently than I was 20-something years ago and I feel that I have accomplished my goal of learning to cook. But, the one constant and consistent recipe has been Mrs. Hockmeyer's Banana Bread--even if I tweak and adjust depending on my consumers and my own mood--it's been a solid foundation for which I am extremely grateful.

I've already hinted at the last time I made the recipe that I made it gluten free, but I'll add the full one here below just in case anyone wants to try a delicious, gluten-free banana bread muffin recipe.

Mrs.Pitt's Gluten-Free Mrs. Hockmeyer's Banana Bread Muffins.

5 very ripe bananas

1 cup sugar

splash maple syrup (real)

two eggs

1/3 cup melted butter

1 tsp plus vanilla

1 1/2 cup King Arthur's Gluten Free Flour

pinch of salt

1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/8 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp cinnamon
sprinkle of ginger
generous pinch of nutmeg.
I made 24 muffins and dusted with confectioner's sugar

ORIGINAL RECIPE

Mrs. Hockmeyer’s Banana Bread
2-3 ripe bananas
1/3 cup melted butter
One egg, beaten
1C sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 C flour
Pinch of salt
No need for a mixer for this recipe. Preheat the oven to
350°F. With a wooden spoon, mix butter into the
mashed bananas in a large mixing bowl. Mix in the
sugar, egg, and vanilla. Sprinkle the baking soda
and salt over the mixture and mix in. Add the flour
last, mix. Pour mixture into a buttered 4x8 inch loaf
pan. Bake for 1 hour. Cool on a rack. Remove from
pan and slice to serve.

Original recipe does include 3/4 cup chopped nuts, but I've never added those.

Best Dill Pickles [Refrigerator Pickles.]

As someone who absolutely loves pickles, I was thrilled at the simplicity of the recipe.

I have kept the very first index card I wrote with the recipe on it. It is many, many pickles old and has many markings of use. [See photo above.] Many friends have asked for this recipe so I know it's a good one. I enjoy making them throughout the year, but especially during Summer when the dill and cucumbers are in season. 

These are known as "refrigerator pickles." The original recipe noted to refrigerate them for three days before trying. Mmmm. Hmmmm. I try them within hours and they only get better each day. I do not know exactly how long they last but as my friend said "They're in vinegar, they're fine."

So without adding unnecessary and cumbersome text to this latest blog post, I'll keep it as simple as the recipe. 

Let me know if you try it. 

Boil the brine (water, vinegar, kosher salt)

Place cucumbers, sliced however you'd like, in the containers. Add garlic, dill and anything else you'd like (onions, crushed red pepper, black pepper)

Once brine is boiled, pour it over the cucumbers.

That is all. Here are some details: 

Bathe the cukes in cold water and a little vinegar to clean them.
Ten min will do.

Get your containers ready!

You'll only need three measuring cups.

Wash that dill also. If you don't have fresh, just add dried to your containers, it's fine.

Get those fresh garlic cloves ready. Peel and slice or leave whole. The pickled garlic is delicious to eat as well.

Salt out. I use Kosher every time.

Make your brine by adding the measured water, white vinegar and salt to a big pot. Bring to a boil.

As your brine boils, cut the cucumbers, add them along with the dill and garlic pieces to your containers.

When the brine is boiled, pour it over the cucumbers until they are covered. I use the large measuring cup or ladel.

Extra bring leftover? Pickle something else. Pickled onions? I just use the same brine and I added a teaspoon of honey to each jar. I also added dill to one just to see how it would taste.

Save those jar to use for pickling!

I repurpose and add my own labels. 

Enjoy!

From August 16, 2012

It has been three years today, August 16, 2012, since my dad passed away. Three years ago today, my husband was in South Africa with his siblings and their father, mourning the loss of my mother-in-law. Yes, three years ago, my husband and I both lost a parent in a matter of one week. We were discussing this the other day as we were returning from a camping trip. We met and came from worlds apart sixteen years ago, yet had something so significant happen to us the same week in time so many years later. At the time, it seemed so surreal and it still seems somewhat mysterious.

I'll never forget this ridiculous statement I said just minutes after my father was pronounced dead at the emergency room. Very inappropriately, I said that my mother-in-law must be saying, "Dennis, what are you doing here?" Yes, I actually said that, to my mother of all people and yes, I tried to mimic her lovely South African accent as I said it. But, that's how incomprehensible it all was and I'm sure I was simply trying to cope.

I recently read an account I had written just days after, about what transpired that week. In it I wrote how we had learned just two weeks prior to Penny's death that the end was near from a cancer she battled for at least two years; about how my father had just finished cooking us all dinner on the grill when he suffered a heart attack and I held his face in one hand and his left hand in the other and he very abruptly took one of his last breaths as a tear left his eye and slowly journeyed down his cheek. I could very much dwell on these things and find myself full of grief or allow myself the stress of memorializing the trauma that occurred even that one day.
There is a periodic, but remarkable sadness that my children don't have a grandfather here in the states, there will always be an emptiness and a sorrow that my brother and I both have children whom my father would have adored, but he never knew because they were born after his death. I especially feel that grief for my brother, who had the best relationship with my dad; he knew how to forgive him, honor him and how to be his friend. He was such a good son, regardless of what kind of parent my dad was. My dad would have been so proud of my brother for the father that he is today. My dad loved all his children, but our relationships were quite strained. I find it strange now that it doesn't take away the enormity of the loss.
I often see my kids do something cute or a new skill and I wish I could share it with my mother-in-law. For a moment, I forget that she is no longer here. I think she would have absolutely adored my little girl, as would have, my dad. I wish my dad could have been there for my brother when he lost one of his twin boys, who was my dad's namesake. His death only seven months prior made it even more of a strain on my brother and all of us really, I'm sure. I wish he had been here for my three boys as their little baby sister was fighting for her life in the NICU and hospital for weeks on end.
When my dad died, my friend shared with me that she wished she could tell me that it gets better, but that it doesn't and that she always misses her dad. She had shared her thoughts with me in the initial period when a grieving person is absolutely exhausted. The time when running one errand to the store feels like you accomplished something big. So, when she said that, I dismissed it and thought, "that just cannot be true, no one could live like that." She also had an incredible relationship with her dad, I really didn't. So, that also made me dismiss her account. Now, I realize what she meant. It really doesn't get better because you will now always feel that absence.

As my children grow and I am witnessing my firstborn enter into the teens, it really brings to mind quite often the old cliche, that time flies. It really does. 

 Life can't be what you wish it was or is. 

Back to Nonni.

 Italian I am not. However, living outside of New Haven, Connecticut, I grew up with one of the biggest Italian populations in our country. I'm familiar with a lot of Italian food, traditions and the beautiful customs that Italian-Americans enjoy. My childhood friend Rose would spend summers with her father who lived one street over and I would frequently observe her immigrant stepmother and father as they created a little Italy on West Street. I couldn't speak Italian and her stepmother didn't seem to know much English, but somehow during a hot summer day, I found myself semi-voluntarily peeling nearly scalding my palms, blackened peppers they roasted on an open fire in their backyard. I witnessed their canning process from start to finish. I remember watching the manure being offloaded by a old, dented truck that was backed into their long driveway, past the three story colonial in the very modest neighborhood in which I grew up. When it wasn't occupied, Rose and I would play in the furnished basement apartment. I couldn't believe how much room there was and we would find ourselves playing "pretend house" in that spacious area. I am not aware of what happened from manure to harvest, but I do remember the mounds of soil and plants growing. It wasn't until Rose's stepmom planted that hot, roasted pepper in my hands that day and motioned directions that I would find myself becoming part of their harvesting process. I marveled at their wall shelves deep enough to be jampacked with glass jars with the fruits of their garden. I'd never seen anything like it and I wondered when they would eat it all. There wasn't a single jar with a store-bought label on it. 
My friends and some family members are either from Italy, or 1st, or 2nd generation Italians. My own husband is an Italian citizen, but that's a "whole notha" story! To put it mildly, there are a lot experts floating around my world. If someone is Italian around here, you hear about it and you hear about it in abundance. Sometimes, all you hear is how great it is to be Italian even if it just means they are sitting around talking about being Italian–somehow there's a greatness in that. 

Recently at a baby shower, my cousin's brother-in-law told me about his mother's cooking schedule every week that he and his brother (my cousin's husband) experienced growing up with two Italian parents in New England. Nonni, who is beloved by all of us, is a master seamstress with lots of clients, but what I learned from her son, was that she was also a master breadmaker, a master lasagna and sauce maker and a master of a wife and mother. Tony had no idea, but I was completely enthralled in his description of his mother's weekly menu. I could not believe the fortune I happened upon as he began to list his mother's weekly schedule. She would begin with the numerous loaves of bread at the end of the week, as described by son Tony. He motioned with his hands demonstrating how she'd place the dough around the kitchen. I imagined dough rising on countertops and window sills with cloths over each ball. I then pictured her placing the floured and risen dough in to the tins for baking. The sauce would be cooked over the weekend. And, this would be the food they ate all week. And, by the following Thursday, that food that was started seven days prior would be done and Rosalba would begin the routine again. As he described his mother's food, you could almost savor it, his love for his mother's cooking was so apparent and heartwarming. I urged him to write this down as he shared her unique lasagna recipe which she had in years past promised to make with me one day. He spoke for over and hour about their upbringing and their cooking and I loved hearing every minute. I did not grow up with grandfathers and the grandmothers I had shared no ethnic recipes as they were too busy being single-mothers and offered no centuries old traditions that I know of. I envy people who grew up with family gatherings of traditional foods and as much as I've tried to make traditions of my own, I'm not sure my kids will ever get the same senses I heard from Tony that day.

Back to Nonni. Back to Tony. The last thing Tony described after uncovering her secret ingredient for lasagna was regarding his family's tomatoes. It was an annual tradition as is with every family that cans their own. Tony said they never had the same amount of jars filled. Some years, it would be 63, some years 45, he recalled as he pointed his fingers to motion how they counted after the end of each season. But, they'd be the only jars they'd open and use–never store bought–his main point being it was their labor that produced what they would consume. Hearing that I just thought, gosh I can't remember a single thing my family did together annually. What an incredible privilege to grow up in this kind of culture. Sadly, most families are not carrying this on. But, it's certainly incredible that he can share this tradition through story telling.

Most Italians are proud and their sauce is always the best. And it's true, on a certain day, with that certain pasta and the certain surroundings—without any measurements to Italy-boot—your sauce is the best. And, if it begins with the fruit of their labor, well, that's just the pearl in the oyster, isn't it?  I'll never mess with your Nona's directions nor criticize that she didn't use San Marzanos. I don't judge her if she doesn't fry her meatballs stove-top first or use Pecorino-Romano or fresh parsley as a staple garnish. And yes, I also chuckle when a recipe calls for two cloves of garlic as I learned is the correct response because who measures garlic? Italians don't. But, they do, "do it best." This, I know. And, if you don't know, give it a minute and an Italian will tell you. 

That FOUR ingredient tomato sauce.

 I love recipes out of New York Times or other food publications. I married as a completely inexperienced cook and used to think I was hot stuff after heating up a Stouffer's salisbury steak dinner in the microwave and throwing together instant mashed potatoes for our meal as newlyweds. My goal pretty early in our marriage though and then after having children was to learn– really learn how to cook from scratch. And, so my journey began with falling for not only good recipes, but the stories behind those recipes. While scrolling through these boring blog articles in order to get to a recipe may be a pain in the butt, once in a while, there's a really great history behind that directive that makes the recipe that much more meaningful. When I came across this recipe from Marcella Hazan I couldn't believe it. Her recipe calls for four ingredients. Just add basil and garlic, right? No. No basil, no, and gulp, not even a clove of garlic. 

I made this sauce which is titled, "The Best Tomato Sauce" and I was absolutely delighted and surprised at how incredibly delicious it is. I began to look up other opinions on this sauce and was feeling like I was on to something—most people who make homemade sauce, have no restraint. Most write-ups on this recipe will start off calling it a four ingredient sauce, but they always end up commenting on what other ingredients can be added or alternatives for the four. And, friends and family that I've shared the recipe with gawked at the lack of spice or said something like, "Well, it was OK, I added garlic and parsley to mine." I began to care not so much about whether they liked the sauce, but I was humored by the again, lack of restraint. People simply cannot hold back from adding what they think  should be in an Italian sauce, rather than being willing to just try it. The main point of the recipe is that it is only four ingredients. Marcella's husband described Marcella's creation as being scientific and noting, she was born to make such a sauce, and her education in the sciences only helped her realize the chemistry of butter and onions. It just made sense.

There is a hero of this story, my longtime since childhood friend, whose grandparents arrived via Ellis Island from Italy. This is my seven fishes on Christmas Eve, every Saturday at Big Nanny's type of Italian friend. I nonchalantly shared the recipe with her thinking man she's gonna shoot me down for this one. A couple months later, I cautiously asked her about it and threw in, "hey I know you probably think it was a stupid recipe..." and without any hesitation she voices back, "Are you kidding me, it's now the only sauce I make, it is delicious!" That New Year's Eve, we made the sauce and put it over stuffed shells and baked them in my oven. I remember as we both took our first bite, we paused and looked at eachother with that look–like pardon my french but that is dang good. I think there may have been a little headshake and a minor bit of moaning and grunting. We both describe the sauce as velvety. And, now it is the only sauce both of us make. We just made it recently for a family gathering–hers over sausage, mine over meatballs and the the compliments were endless. I do not remove the onions when I serve. And, as Marcella's family advises, Marcella always added grated cheese when she served the sauce and so do I. 

The four ingredients are:

• 2 cups of fresh or a 28 ounce can of San Marzano tomatoes
• One onion, halved
• 5 tablespoons of butter
• salt

https://www.epicurious.com/expert-advice/marcella-hazan-famous-tomato-onion-butter-sauce-article

You bring to boil and then quickly turn down and let it simmer for at least 45 minutes. 

Ice Cream Bar for Dessert

For my son's recent "Jack n Jill" we set up an ice cream bar for dessert. We kept it simple and didn't serve anything else.The bride and groom chose their own candy. A cookie tray delivered a beautiful touch and we provided syrups and good whipped cream. 

The bride's grandmother placed all the candy into the dessert dishes and on trays that were all purchased at the dollar store or borrowed from the kitchen! Adding the silver trays added a little elegance to the set up.

 I found margarita glasses, fish bowls, candle holders and the shiny silver trays all for $1.25 each. Using larger silver spoons for serving worked perfectly. All the guests seemed to truly embrace the ice cream bar and the bride loved it. 

 The two tubs of ice cream were from Restaurant Depot and cost $45 for both. We used half of each tub--this was for approximately 80 guests.  Most people didn't want more than two scoops.

It was helpful for us to have two scoopers and start to prefill the bowls about two minutes before guests came up to the self-serve bar. My husband and myself were the scoopers and honestly, it gave us the opportunity to interact with every single guest. The bride and groom were served first. Of course, we customized the ice cream for the beloved, picky guests and gave extra scoops to those asking. It was truly a fun and unique way to have dessert and celebrate before the bride and groom opened their gifts. Guests ate their ice cream as they began to watch the gift opening! 

 

A Puppy Cake for Kids

In a world of Pinterest Perfection—welcome to your 1980's homemade cake fest! I'm your girl for quick, cute and inexpensive. 

I searched quite a bit to try to find a model cake and directions for a dog or puppy cake and I was unable to find much--other than elaborate ones I'd not even attempt. I decided to post this here in case someone's child longs for their parent to make them a dog cake as my daughter has twice now. 

The final product. 

How it began. You can see two 8 inch round cakes, one cut in half and used as big puppy ears.

I used buttercream frosting for the round portion snd a different shade which was caramel frosting for the ears. I laid it on thick and using the end of the spreader, made it look textured to appear as fur.

I used chocolate Twizzlers sliced thin and manipulated for the mouth, chocolate chips for the noise (I even smashed some to fill in any holes). Then I used candy called, Air heads for the tongue. I simply cut it to look right.They actually have a seam down them vertically so it worked perfectly. 

Using a circle dough cutter as a guide, I placed chopped Heath candy (for baking) onto the frosting to make the light tan patch, then frosted the bottom of a chocolate chip for the eye on top. I used another piece of the chocolate Twizzler for the eyebrow and a simple chocolate chip for the other eye. 

And, finally the blue bow was made with the Airhead candy as well. It's very easy to shape, but a warning, it melts extremely quickly in the heat. 

Autumn Crafts

Autumn Candle. 

Mix dry lentils and beans with white glue in a disposable plastic cup. You can add various colors, popcorn kernals, craft stars etc.

Mix well. Add a tealight candle to the top, pushing it in a little. Allow to dry for 24 hours. 

Remove cup by cutting with scissors and gently pulling. 

Baby's Breath Centerpiece. 

Inspired by The Nester. Add a fresh bouquet of baby's breath to make an eye-catching centerpiece. After two weeks, remove water and dry your container. Baby's breath will dry out so nicely and continue looking beautiful as a centerpiece. 

Cloth Leaf Press Hanging. 

An oldie, but goodie. 

Using fresh leaves, place them face down on muslin. Cover with shipping tape. Using a pencil, press firmly on tape to transfer the color from the leaf on to the muslin fabric. It takes time, so be patient and enjoy the process. You can pull off the tape to check it. Remove tape. To make fabric hang, place it over a small twig or branch. Fold top over and either hand stitch or glue fabric to make a loop over the twig or branch. 

Macrame Ornament. 

My newest experiment, macrame. These are considered ornaments. You can easily find tutorials on YouTube for "Macrame leaf". It is so fun and pleasing for those who love natural materials for crafting. I'm just learning how to macrame and this beginner's project was fun and encouraging! 

 

Glittery Christmas Ornament

The Ingredients:

 A plastic bulb, glitter glue, decorative paper and one good long, bendable paper-clip and a screw, yes a screw. 

1.Take the top off the ornament. Squeeze about a tsp or more of glue in the bulb, Drop the screw in and replace cover. Shake, rattle and roll the bulb. The screw will dispense and spread the glitter glue all around. If your screw and glue gets stuck, give it a good shake. Keep it up until all the glue is spread around. Remove the cover and drop the screw out on wax paper or paper plate

2. Find a decorative picture you'd like to display on the inside of the bulb. In mine, I chose the nativity. Slide it in the top of the ornament, face out--you'll curve it to the roundness of the opening. Then using the curved paper-clip, guide it into place. The glue already on the inside of the bulb will help!

3. Replace the top and add a ribbon on top.

18 million

 18 Million. 

That's the approximate number of black people removed from our American society by legal abortion.

How many of them may have been elected to office, we will never know. But, it's something I was thinking about today.  

Everyone is celebrating the possibility that an American woman of Indian and Jamaican descent has  been elected. 

I wonder what could have been had Margaret Stanger not fought so hard to exterminate a race of people; and had a society not existed that supports it rather than lifts them up to make the choice of life.

18 Million.