Coconut Rum Bread

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Taking classes at night is a whole other animal compared to my glory days of undergrad. After a long day I have no patience for students who only like to hear the sound of their voice. Perhaps that makes me the worst kind of classmate, especially after muttering, “I kill you” when one of my peers asks his eighth non-question.

Nighttime lecture-hall manners are kind of an anomaly: like getting stared at while I licked the lid of my yogurt clean. It was as if my row-mates were accusing me of reenacting a very (very) awkward porno scene; although it was a lid to a 32 ounce container (about the size of my head).

The worst is when you’re seated next to an incessant desk tapper,

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a Red-Bull-drinking-open-mouth-breather

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or God forbid, the I’m-kicking-the-back-of-your-seat-because-I-want-to-see-you-turn-into-my-very-own-fun-sized-Hulk.

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But there’s hope.

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Sharing snacks in class is kind of an icebreaker.

And when you break bread with your classmates, they totally will join you, hating on that guy that won’t stop clicking his pen.

Just stop, guy. Seriously.

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Chewy Granola Cookies

I am not the easiest person to live with.

For one, I’m becoming my mother at the wee age of 30.  I realized this when I started to wash out the kitchen trash can last weekend.  Really, who does that?  My mom.  Oh, and me.

Also like my mother, I ask, without fail, the second after Roo takes a bite of food how it is.  (FYI “it’s good,” is not a proper response.)

Second, there were a few times where it was pointed out that I have a hard time throwing things away.

“Babe, we have so many empty glass jars.  I feel like we’re one away from being cast on Hoarders.”

“What are you talking about?  I use them, like all the time.”

“For what?  Besides leaving them in a paper bag on the floor.”

“That’s where they live!  I don’t have any cupboard space.”

“Because there’s no room in the cupboard from all your glass jars.”

Lastly, I may or may not have had two meltdowns so far this week.  But in my defense, the first was from burning my hand….by grabbing a pan that had been in the oven.  The second was after realizing there was shattered glass in every single cup we owned….because I dropped a bowl on top of those cups and it um, shattered.

So when Roo asks if there’s a way he can have cookies at ‘snack,’ (which to me is essentially second breakfast), I try to make it happen.  After all, I need to keep someone around to identify my body when it’s found underneath a mountain of fallen glass jars.

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Double Coconut and Banana Loaf

This afternoon I was interrupted Facebook stalking doing my research for my next lab meeting by a phone call from Roo.  He occasionally calls when he’s stuck in traffic.

“Babe, sometimes I think I’m psychic.”

“Mmm hmm….Wait, what?”

“Are you doing something right now?”

I click my browser window closed, “Uh no, I was just petting Monkey.  What’s up?”

“As I was walking up the stairs at school today, I thought, you know what would be funny? If I missed a step.

“Uh huh, so you missed a step. Ok, well…”

“No, that’s not the whole story.”

“You missed a step and the children saw you?  Did you fall in front of a parent?  Oh no…did you take down a parent?”

“What? No. No, what happened was, I was carrying my cup of tea as I was walking up the stairs, and it spilled. Up into my face.”

“Are you serious?”

“And when I went back into the classroom, the kids were wrapped up in a conversation about what ‘their problem was.’  To which I said, ‘You know what my problem is?'”

“Oh no, please don’t tell me you did a two-face reveal of your horribly burned face,” I said, picturing him asking the class with his ‘good side.’

“Oh yes.  And when they asked, I replied, ‘I just boiledmyface.'”

“You did the dramatic point and reveal, didn’t you.”

“I boiled my face.  Of course it was dramatic.  But that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Are you ok?”

“It feels like burning.”

“Seriously, are you on your way to the hospital?  Do you need burn cream?”

“No, it’ll be fine.  But…do we have any of that cake left?”

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How to Make Coconut Milk Whipped Cream

Oh look, another followup post.  This time to Banana Bread with Bittersweet Chocolate and Candied Ginger.

Don’t you love these?

I know, you were probably hoping for another Ryan Gosling post, but I’m selfish.

Because I want Ryan all to myself.

Actually, I don’t.

Yes, I’m probably the only female (in the world) who doesn’t find Ryan Gosling attractive.  In fact, I’m a little pissed that I can’t say, “Hey Girl” to my friends anymore without them replying, “Totes Amaze!”, “Hashtag, IheartRyanGosling!” or “Why haven’t you seen Drive yet!?! Are you even American?”

But enough about Ry-Gos.

Let’s talk about coconut whipped cream.

It’s light, luscious, slightly sweet, and just barely coconut with the warmth of vanilla shining through. It’s perfect folded into chocolate ice cream, dolloped on top of hot cocoa and I love sometimes, sometimes I can’t picture life without having it spooned onto cakes, brownies, or even eaten straight out of the bowl.

In less than five minutes I can make myself a treat to eat while still in the kitchen, pretending not to hear Roo ask, “whatcha making?” from the other room.

I’m sure if I said “Ryan Gosling,” he wouldn’t mind me keeping it all for myself.

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