Banana Nut Crunch Smoothie Recipe
Thanks so much to Blendtec for providing me with the BlendTec Designer 725 Blender and Twister Jar — and for providing one for a lucky reader to win! All thoughts and opinions are my own, as always.
I’ve been drinking this banana nut smoothie from a little restaurant here in Raleigh like it’s going out of style, but I think I like the idea of it more than I like the taste. Honestly, my reaction when I took my first sip was, "Eh. I could do better." It tasted like banana, but when I think of "banana nut," I think of the deep, rich flavor of banana nut bread — not the sweet, raw flavor of fresh bananas.
Fast forward to me lying in bed with a fiery porcupine of a tonsil in my throat, unable to swallow, much less speak. I've battled my ornery tonsils (especially the left one, that jerk) for decades. Whenever my left tonsil swells up to the size of a small vehicle, I know I'm in for a solid week of unsolid foods.
Fully Loaded Baked Falafel Pita
Welcome to the second post in my series about anti-racism for white people: Identifying and Dealing With White Fragility. Thank you to all of you made a commitment to read at least the first two posts! (Here’s the first one if you missed it.) At the end of this installment, you'll find the dinner recipe that Mike and I are currently crazy about, which happens to be a great way to use the quick-pickled radishes I posted last week: an (incidentally vegan) Fully Loaded Baked Falafel Pita! You’ll also have a chance to share your experiences and resources in the comments. Let’s begin in a rather unlikely place: the skating rink.
When I was 8, I broke my arm at the skating rink. I’ve told you the story before, but I want to focus in on one aspect of it. I was rude to the concession stand cashier when he wouldn’t give me ice to put on my injury, and my friend encouraged me to apologize to him. I want to focus in on the feelings I went through in that moment, which consisted of discomfort, pride, indignation, anger, humiliation, defensiveness, and guilt.
Discomfort because I was in a pickle and I had to either back down or continue fighting; the former felt embarrassing while the latter felt stupid and scary. Pride and indignation because I had just sassed this dude to stand up for myself and now I didn’t want to back down. Anger because I felt like he should’ve given me the ice, which would’ve prevented all of this discomfort in the first place. Humiliation because deep down, I knew I was going to have to admit I had been rude. Defensiveness because part of me was still insisting that I hadn’t been rude: HE had been rude and I had just defended myself! I knew because my feelings were hurt and why would they be hurt if he hadn’t hurt me? Guilt because underneath all of my swirling feelings was the understanding that I had done something wrong.
All of these feelings were valid. Feelings aren’t right or wrong, but they require some analysis to interpret. And it wasn’t the concession guy’s job to sort through them and arrive at a place where I could make an effective decision about what to do — it was mine. What does this have to do with racism?