This is not my typical banana bread. This is my pleasing banana bread which I make for my family. My family isn’t as enthusiastic about the cakes I make with olive oil, spelt, coconut sugar. They prefer their cakes with butter and lots of sugar, preferably white sugar. So when I make my kind of wholesome cakes I’m stuck with a whole cake for myself—unless a friend comes over or I give some to a neighbor. Having some self control issues and being alone with a cake is a recipe for disaster.

For this reason, I would allow myself occasionally to indulge on a slice of rich buttery cake than bing on a whole “healthy” cake.

Ironically, it took me a decade to realize that my neurosis with my wellbeing was more dangerous to my health than whipped cream. My overly health-conscious approach didn’t help my children either. When it came to sweets, my boys became rebellious and skeptical. They would much rather eat a Trader Joe’s peanut butter cup than my cashew cheesecake. And even when I make their kind of cake, my youngest won’t try it until he interrogated me about the ingredients and sniffed it like a bloodhound.

Nevertheless, I don’t mind making and eating their kind of cakes more often, but there’s another problem. My mildly sweet cakes are not sweet enough for them. Or as my husband calls them, “savory cakes.” What can I say, my palate is very sensitive. For me a half cup of sugar in this cake is the perfect amount of sweetness. For them it’s not enough. So if you also have a sweet tooth, add an extra ¼ – ½ cup sugar to the recipe. Also, feel free to use any sugar you like.

on that note, I told my kids and I tell you too, the less sugar you consume, the more sensitive your palate will be. It’s a fact. Another thing I learned too late was that sugar isn’t harmful for kids. Kids’ brains need more sugar than adults’ brains. That’s why when we grow up we don’t crave sugar as much as we used to when we were children. When I was a kid I would go with anyone who would offer me candy, but then when I was in my early twenties I completely lost interest in it. Now I only have a weakness to homemade baked goods and Japanese pastries.

Speaking of childhood:
The combination of banana and strawberry always brings back a particular memory: My friend Dorit and I are picking up her family’s mail from the post office. Her small hands reach all the way to the back of the mailbox to the next mailbox. There’s an envelope with money in it. We take it and run to the closest makolet (deli). We spend it all on candy, and a family-size carton of strawberry banana ice cream. It’s hot outside, the ice cream is melting too quickly. It’s dripping all over us. Our faces and hands are sticky. Our clothes are covered in yellow and pink stains. We don’t care about that. We care about the person that wasn’t going to get the envelope with the money. We are afraid to be punished. Not by our parents, by God.

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