a confession

     When I first started this blog, I did it as an experiment. Would I fall in love with blogging? Only time could tell. I didn't want to fully commit, but I felt like I had to at least try.
     As you can tell from the fact that my last post was almost a month ago, I've found my answer. The truth is, I simply don't have the time or energy to put into maintaining a blog. The life of a relatively high-achieving secondary student is jam-packed with activities: youth symphony, oil painting classes, violin lessons, and various other irregular events. Most nights, I stagger to bed at around 11 PM, to wake up at 5:30 AM the next morning. I'm always so tired, and why give myself more to do?
     I still love cooking as much as ever. In the span of a weekend, I made orange-poppy seed pancakes, sweet potato-cauliflower soup, salads for this week's lunches, and a two-layer, red wine chocolate cake with blackberry filling, vanilla buttercream, and chocolate ganache for an auction. And I've discovered a new love for photography, as well. I can say that much.
     There are other things I would rather put my resources into. Like art. I've always drawn and painted and immersed myself in the art world, and it still lights a fire in my heart. And science. Anything to do with physics makes me feel tingly and excited. Can you understand why I don't want to spend my time looking for and buying props for a food blog, taking countless photos of a cake, and editing them one-by-one?
     I suppose food blogs are like books with. I'm a huge bookworm, and I keep a meticulously-groomed Goodreads account. But I've never had the slightest inclination towards writing a novel of my own. I would prefer to take in other people's words and appreciate their beauty, rather than grapple with the creative process myself.
     So I suppose this blog is on an indefinite hiatus. Maybe one day I'll log into Blogger again and crank out a post. But it probably won't be tomorrow, or next week. We'll just have to see.

ginger chocolate-chip banana bread

    Last weekend showcased the best of Seattle. It's a closely-guarded secret, but Seattle actually has beautiful weather during the summer. The sky finally sheds her winter coat of grey clouds and reveals herself, in all her bright blue, naked glory. It's never too hot or humid (like people have told me the Northeast is during the summer - I'll just have to endure it this July!), but always balmy and just-right. The trees always seem the greenest in the sun, and their leaves cast dappled shadows on the asphalt. People flock to the parks and beaches. I went with my mother last weekend to Matthews Beach to go jogging on the Burke-Gilman trail, and it seemed as if every cyclist in Seattle passed by me.

     Alas, it was a short-lived dream. This past week almost made me believe that it was still January. It's rained almost every day. I pulled out the coats and boots I thought I could finally get rid of, and jogged in the constant drizzle. In the early morning, while I struggle to extricate myself from sleep's gauzy veil, I listen to the soothing onomatopoeia of raindrops on the roof.

     Poor weather always has the effect of making me want to cook. Perhaps I'm just a sucker for that feeling of coziness and security, but nothing says comfort to me like a homey quickbread, still steaming and fresh from the oven. Today during my violin lesson, all I could think about was how wonderful a banana bread with melty chocolate chips, kicked up with a dash of ginger, would be. And as soon as I came home, I baked this.

     Moist doesn't even begin to cover this banana bread. Because there are equal volumes of bananas and flour in the batter, it's overwhelmingly banana-y. The chocolate chips melt and ooze into the bread, and seems to permeate throughout the an entire slice. The ginger isn't really prominent in the flavor profile, but you can taste it occasionally, a gentle heat that tickles the back of your throat. This banana bread is perfect for a rainy weekend. As I write this, it's still cooling on the kitchen counter, but a third of it is already gone.