Thursday, February 9, 2012

A Song & Memory: Besame Mucho & Banana Bread

My father died January 4 and I find myself at an emotional standstill, still trying to accept that fact. Outside, I'm functioning, taking care of my mother who had to move in with me. Inside, I have stalled. I have other priorities now...being strong for my mom, taking care of paperwork, making doctors appointments, cooking proper meals for the family and more.

What I'm not doing is writing...really writing. Slowly, I have resumed my newspaper column, but other than that...nada. My blogs have stagnated, I haven't written a new story since last year. To write is to feel, and I'm afraid to feel.

Last year, before any of this, I had been part of a fun twitter conversation and suggested this month's #Letslunch idea: Music inspired food. Life was light then.

I was going to sit this one out, but then I got a kind note from one of #Letslunch pals and she said she'd love to read anything I had to share about my dad. So here goes.

For your listening pleasure, I'm sharing Besame Mucho, a song I found downloaded on my Papa's new iPhone.


Click on it, listen and read on.

A large part of who I am today is thanks to my Papa. He lived well, taught me much and made some wonderful memories.

We both enjoyed food, shared a curiosity about new ingredients and complex kitchen processes and relished flavors and textures — from the balance of sweet and sour in a pickle to the buttery softness of fresh baked bread. If he saw something new and interesting and edible, he'd buy it and try it.

His sailing career allowed him to taste an adventurous variety of foods, from octopus fried rice to cooked camel. Despite trying all the exotic fare, one of his favorite things was my mother's banana bread — preferably still warm from the oven.

He loved this homey treat my mother essentially threw together to use up overripe, black bananas we all refused to touch. A cup of coffee and a slice of banana bread was enough to make him a contented man. He always enjoyed his treat with a smile.

After his death, we had an outpouring of calls, visits and stories from family and friends. And we kept hearing stories about my father and banana bread.

At the time of his death, my father worked at Home Depot. If any of his co-workers happened to be going through a rough time or if they were celebrating a birthday or a promotion, a banana bread would show up on his or her desk (if the recipient was on a special diet, then it could be a granola bar or oranges).

My father apparently believed my mom's home-baked goodness could cheer up anyone and fit all situations. He loved playing the banana bread Santa at his store.

His colleagues remembered him by wearing ribbons and the management surprised the staff with a banana bread break in his honor.

On a personal level, my father's death, funeral service and burial passed in a blur. While my heart ached, worry about my mom and the need to be strong took over. My mother didn't just lose her husband, but also her best friend and co-conspirator.

I'm spending these months with her because, well, we need each other right now, more than ever before. Emotions ebb and flow. One moment we are laughing over a funny Papa story and the next we are sobbing out a monsoon of tears.

We spend a lot of time in the kitchen, cooking and reminiscing. Recently, I was helping clean out her refrigerator and discovered some gooey, black bananas. This perfect coincidence stole my breath for a moment. Then we baked banana bread and shared a cup of coffee in honor of the amazing man we both love. I can't think of a better memorial.

I hope you enjoy listening to Besame Mucho with a cup of something warm and a slice of my mom's banana bread.

(part of this post was originally published in the San Angelo Standard-Times)

Mom's Banana Bread


2 cups all-purpose flour

½ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon cinnamon

¼ teaspoon nutmeg

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 or 3 ripe, medium bananas

2 teaspoon lemon juice

¾ cup vegetable or canola oil (you can use butter if you prefer)

1/2 cup yogurt or sour cream

1 cup sugar (or ½ cup Splenda)

2 eggs

¼ cup chopped pecans

¼ cup raisins or craisins


1 Preheat oven at 350 degrees.

2 Grease a 9X5X3-inch loaf pan with cooking oil spray. Set aside.

3 Sift together all the dry ingredients, except for sugar (from flour to baking soda), and set aside.

4 In another bowl, mash the bananas with lemon juice and set aside.

5 In a large bowl, whisk together oil and yogurt, sugar (a bit at time) and eggs (one at a time). Add in the mashed bananas.

6 Add in the dry ingredient mix into the wet ingredients a little bit at a time, mixing or folding as you go. Reserve about ¼ cup of the dry mix.

7 Toss the reserved flour mix with the pecans and raisins, and then fold these into the bread batter.

8 Pour batter into the loaf pan and bake 45 minutes.

9 Lower temperature to 300 degrees and bake another 20-25 minutes, or until done. A toothpick inserted into the center should come out dry.

10 Cool & serve.


  1. Hi Rashda,
    I can only say I'm touched by this blog, your dad's music and memories... I can only try to understand what you and your family (Mom) must be going through. Your father sounds like a wonderful man who lived a full and wonderful life. The fact that he enjoyed all his life's experiences to the full and took you with him for the ride... tells you something, doesn't it?

    He is gone... sadly so... my heart aches for you. But he lives on in your heart. His spirit is alive in you, your mother and the passion for life, he left behind.

    Your passion and talent lies in writing. The written words. Pick up the pen. Write. And bring your father's spirit back to life. With words.

    We will follow his love for good food and bring his warmth in our homes. Thank you for sharing a part of your life with us.

    Your friend
    Anju Gattani

    1. Thank you Anju for your very wise & compassionate words. You're right, writing this piece and sharing my dad helped in the best way possible. It allowed me to relive some of our good memories and keeps him alive in my heart. So despite the tears that resulted during writing, yes, it was worth it.

  2. For a woman who is afraid to feel, you have managed to make me feel quite a lot in this beautiful tribute. I'm so sorry for your loss, Rashda. And so grateful for the lives your Dad touched. I agree with Anju, write your Dad. I suspect it will be good for you and your family. Peace be with you all.

    Love, Vic

    1. Thanks, my friend. I appreciate your visit & words.

  3. I too wish to express my condolences -- what a beautiful tribute to a very special man. You have done him proud.

  4. You did it! I'm touched to read your post & hope that the memories help to heal. He'll always be in your heart and now we can share in a little of that. A wonderful gift to us. Thank you.

  5. Rashda, so glad you made it to #LetsLunch today, with this beautiful post and tribute to your father, who sounds like a lovely and interesting man.

  6. Rashda,
    What a moving song, story of your dad's generous nature and hot banana bread memories. My grandmother left me a recipe that I use, but I am going to go make your mom's recipe! Your family's memories can live on as you help others create new ones. I agree with the ladies above. WRITE.
    Never be afraid of what comes out... you can always delete it, and you never know where it may lead.
    Know you are in my thoughts and prayers.
    Stephanie G.

  7. Dear friends,

    Death is a part of life and yet so hard to accept. My father was a wonderful man and I miss him terribly...but, sharing him with you gave me comfort, helped relive the good times. Thank you so much for your encouraging words, past and present, and thank you for visiting.



  8. What a touching and beautiful essay to your father, Rashda. I see where you get your appreciation for flavors and details. I'm glad that you are able to write this wonderful post during your time of loss.

  9. Rashda - what a beautiful piece. Thanks for making it to #letslunch this week! Your father sounds like an incredible man. Thanks for sharing your banana bread recipe!

  10. What a lovely tribute to your father and how blessed you and your mother are to have your memories and each other and a banana bread to share them over.

    1. Thank you for visiting & your kind words. Now my time with my mom is even more precious.

  11. Rashda,

    I just stumbled onto your blog today and couldn't help but be deeply touched by your story. I am so sorry for the lose of your father. I know exactly what you are going through, as mine passed away two years ago. What's funny is that he loved my mom's banana bread too. It was his favorite. He would peel the ugliest, most beat up, bananas for her; just like your dad. I couldn't help but cry, while reading this and listening to your father's song. It's bittersweet that we share a similar story. My father also loved my mom's rice pudding. lol. I miss him everyday, but I know that somewhere, he is watching me and proud of me. Your dad is watching over you too. Thank you for sharing your beautiful story and touching song.

    Hugs, Krystyn