Guest Writer: Christiana Roussel
I don’t have anything against bananas, per se.
The tropical fruit makes the perfect vehicle for a slather of creamy Jif (the ONLY peanut butter, in my opinion) and even a smear of Nutella. Hell, I even had a fully producing banana tree in my Montrose backyard when I lived in the equatorial-like swelter that is Houston, Texas. I marveled over that tree that swayed languidly over the shared pool in our Melrose Place-style duplex set-up.
Fresh bananas and I gee-haw.
But I have to draw the line when it comes to banana-FLAVORED anything. The loathsome bile that builds in my throat when confronted with a banana-flavored Runt candy is second only to encountering warm V-8 juice or any oyster that is large enough to require two bites. (Oysters should be small and briny and slip down your throat with the lagniappe of an icy cold mignonette – but I digress.) Just the thought of those banana Runts makes my tummy queasy.
I had no idea I felt this strongly about banana-flavored food stuffs until I was on a long and rambling call with Bradley, on one of my recent drives south to the town of Thomasville, GA from my home in Birmingham, AL. I adore that drive; once I get past Montgomery and exit I-65 at Pike Road, it is all smaller highways lined with pecan groves, cotton fields, green pastures and all manner of homes in various states of upkeep. I savor those scenic five hour drives for the time it affords me in catching up with family and friends.
I’m not sure how we got to topic of Runts in general but in just talking about them, I felt my face twist up in an unattractive manner, merely thinking about the banana-flavored variety. I shared that and he howled, not expecting such repugnant feelings about candy.
“Ugh! Banana Runts are the worst!” I retorted “and don’t get me started on banana-flavored Now & Laters – those are vomitrocious too.” In my mind I was also recalling the perils of an unlabeled dish of Jelly Belly candies, with those yellow jewel-toned versions that could be anything lovely like lemon to pineapple to dreaded banana. Makes me skip the temptation of that crystal dish all together. Worse than erroneously picking the root beer-flavored ones.
The conversation veered off in another direction – probably talk of the virtues of a place like my beloved Thomasville versus his adoration of NYC – before he queried “wait, what about banana pudding or banana cream pie?” And then I had to go off again. “I suppose I am a purist when it comes to bananas, making only the occasional foray into plantains…” And then I was off on another tangent wherein plantains made me think fondly of Cuban food – plates piled high with tender juicy saucy pork, a rich puddle of spicy black beans and a side of fried plantains – and I found my appetite all over again.
*Curious, adventurous and free to move about the cabin, Christiana Roussel is a Birmingham-based editor and award-winning food + travel + lifestyle writer. Her work has appeared nationally in Garden & Gun, Covey Rise, Good Grit, Shooting Sportsman, The Local Palate, Veranda, Flower Magazine as well as the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Birmingham Home & Garden and several other regional publications.
She is a proud member of the Birmingham chapter of Les Dames d’Escoffier as well as the Industry Advisory Board of Auburn University’s Horst Schulze School of Hospitality Management.
