Gone bananas: Banana oat cupcakes with Smil filling

Banana oat cupcakes stuffed with Smil/Rolo candy

Banana oat cupcakes stuffed with Smil/Rolo candy

A new experiment… I had three bananas ready to go and a bunch of oats that I just did not want to store any longer. I vaguely knew I wanted to make something with caramel. I had also intended to make some chocolate cookies stuffed with Smil (the Norwegian equivalent of Rolo) but did not want to make more chocolate stuff in the end, so I just threw a Smil into the center of each cupcake. It remains to be seen how these will be received, but hopefully it will be a successfully experiment.

How to go bananas yourself?

Preheat oven to 190c

1 1/2 cup flour
1 cup oats
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg
3/4 cup milk
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
2 mashed overripe bananas

Mix dry ingredients together and set aside. In another bowl, beat egg, add milk, oil and vanilla, then sugar. Add banana. Mix well. Add dry mixture until just mixed (do not overmix).

Place mixture into greased cupcake pans or into cupcake papers. I put a small amount of the mixture into a cupcake paper, added a Smil candy and topped it off with a bit more batter.

Bake 18 to 20 minutes.

I frosted with caramel Swiss meringue buttercream.

4 egg whites
1 cup sugar
24 tablespoons unsalted butter
three tablespoons caramel/dulce de leche

Over a double boiler, whisk egg whites and sugar. When sugar is dissolved, transfer the mixture to the bowl of a stand mixer – beat with the whip attachment until soft to medium peaks form. Switch to paddle attachment, start beating and adding in the butter a few tablespoons at a time. Once you have a frosting-like texture (which can take a long while – the mixture will possibly look curdled, like it cannot possibly come together, at some point, but it will come together – just keep beating), add the vanilla. When nearly ready, add the caramel and mix until well-combined.

Frost the cupcakes with the prepared frosting.

Gluten-free banana cream cheesecake

gluten-free banana cheesecake

gluten-free banana cheesecake

I’ve said it before and will say it again: gluten-free baking is best when you are making recipes that were created gluten-free from the outset. In this case, cheesecake filling is gluten-free on its own. And crust choice is really flexible enough to choose what you want.

Recently I decided to make some banana cream cheesecake and made an almond-flour and cocoa-based crust. (I had a lot of leftover filling and made a separate cheesecake using a graham cracker and cinnamon crust.)

Knowing that this was highly appreciated, I will – as usual – share my recipe:

gluten-free banana cheesecake

gluten-free banana cheesecake

Gluten-free almond meal and cocoa crust
1 ¼ cups almond meal or finely ground almonds
3 tablespoons sugar
¼ cup cocoa
¼ cup melted butter

Mix all ingredients together and press into a springform pan (a 10-inch pan would be suitable; I used two miniature springforms). Wrap the springform in foil to prevent leakage.

Refrigerate while preparing the filling.

Cream cheese and banana filling
680 grams softened cream cheese
2/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
3 eggs
¾ cup mashed banana (3 to 4 well-ripened or overripe bananas)
½ cup whipping cream
2 teaspoons vanilla

Beat cream cheese for a few minutes until creamy. Beat in sugar and cornstarch. Add in eggs, one at a time. Beat in the mashed bananas, whipping cream and vanilla.

Pour filling mixture into the prepared crust. Put the pan on a cookie/baking sheet and bake in a 350F/175C oven for 15 minutes.

Reduce oven temperature to 200F/93C and bake for 75 minutes, until center is almost set.

Allow the cake to cool completely in its pan before removing the springform rim. Before removing the pan, run hot water over a knife and slide the hot knife around the edge of the cake to separate the cake from the pan cleanly.

Refrigerate the cake, uncovered, for at least 7 hours, although overnight is most effective.

gluten-free banana cheesecake

gluten-free banana cheesecake

Lunchtable TV Talk – Cucumber: “It’s a gay TV!”


After enduring the tiresome and boring Looking on HBO, I wondered if it were possible to find something funny, real, sad, multidimensional and human on television that was just a normal but engaging depiction of gay life. Not caricatures, not some empty, juvenile idea of what gay life is. Something that feels like a genuine slice of life in a gay/LGBTQ context. And Cucumber is it. At least partly. Nothing is ever quite the whole package.

Cucumber’s creator, Russell T. Davies, brought us groundbreaking TV content in the past, such as Queer as Folk (the original UK version of course, which featured the now well-known Charlie Hunnam of Sons of Anarchy and Aidan Gillen of The Wire and Game of Thrones. Davies delivers in Cucumber (and in the accompanying, more lighthearted, half-hour program, Banana, which focuses on younger, secondary characters) all the things viewers could have hoped for in Looking. (Incidentally, Davies praised Looking and explained his view that perhaps it just went over viewers’ heads and that those who did not get it are “dumb”. He thought it was brilliant, but I don’t see it and don’t think there was anything deep to understand. Cucumber and Banana together deeply explore the themes, both comedic and tragic, that Looking could have elucidated without being a whiny, self-serving drag. It’s kind of Davies, though, to give Looking so much credit. Looking broke some new ground in certain areas – story for another time – but was not remotely relatable. Maybe the fact that we are left to compare these very different shows to each other is the bigger issue – TV shows that depict gay life aren’t a dime a dozen. Maybe there is a whole new paradigm we should be exploring.)

I care about these characters (both those in Cucumber and in Banana). In Cucumber, they can be frustrating, infuriating, silly, charming, funny, heartbreaking, showing the full range of their lives, relationships, fears – whether it is fear of and anxiety about sex (“Sex is for sexy people and the rest of us can just give it up.”), fear of aging, fear of being alone, fear of feeling and so much more. (Not everyone agrees, of course, as there was some backlash about Cucumber when it originally aired in the UK, with viewers finding “the characters unsympathetic and unwatchable. For others, the drama was inconsistent and tonally weird”. I can see those complaints, but at the same time don’t think it’s possible to create anything to absolute perfection. Unlikable, tonally weird or not, and unclear on whether it’s “light” or “dark”, Cucumber does not always walk the tightrope delicately. Both Looking and Cucumber, as the aforementioned article from The Daily Beast notes, are “about gay discontent at a time when the prevailing social winds—marriage equality, growing acceptance—seem to blow in another direction”. In contemporary entertainment channels, Cucumber is still better than anything else of its kind, which, if nothing else, should inspire storytellers and networks to raise the bar.)

Cucumber‘s most shocking episode, and the catalyst for where Henry (the main character) ends up, begins with Lance (Henry’s long-term partner until the show begins) wandering in the grocery store, where all of the episodes begin. It ends up revealing the timeline of his life and is actually so powerful and separate from the overall narrative in many ways that it could almost stand alone without the context of the rest of the show’s seven other episodes. You would not necessarily need to know the characters or the story that led to this point to feel his angst, his joy, his uncertainty, his humanity, his pain, his fear and his untimely end.

It reminded me, strangely (not in tone or theme but as a storytelling device) of a disjointed episode of Hell on Wheels that focused on the character Elam Ferguson (Common) after he had disappeared the previous season to go look for lead character, Cullen Bohannon. It also ushered in the surprise ending of a well-loved character. We suddenly see, near the end of the next season, that Ferguson, who had been mauled by a bear at the end of the previous season, survived the attack and is being nursed back to health by an Indian tribe. The entire episode is like a self-sustaining capsule that looks and feels nothing like the rest of the series. (Mr Firewall happened to be visiting when that episode aired, and it was the only episode he had ever seen, so he did not get an accurate impression of the show at all.) The idea of taking a character out of the normal run of things, away from the rest of the ensemble, and telling a tale that is uniquely his makes these episodes highly unusual.

Cucumber succeeded in creating a tense, terrifying and real hour of television while Hell on Wheels devised a very slow-moving tale of recovery that falsely led us to believe that Elam would even have a triumphant homecoming (we were misled/cheated. Elam does return in another episode and has gone so completely mad that he is gunned down like a rabid dog – so what was the long road to recovery episode even for?).

Cucumber‘s near-standalone episode six was heartbreaking. Lance was so desperate to please and to find someone he loved that he first spent nine ambiguous and somewhat unsatisfying years with lead character, Henry, who spewed hateful, vile stuff at Lance as they split up, ultimately told Lance that he had no spine and that Lance would wait for him to return. And when that relationship really ended, Lance pursued a conflicted, identity-crisis-ravaged, violent caveman who could not admit his own sexuality or accept even his own sexual curiosity. The Twittersphere came alive with a lot of “It’s 2015 – why do gay characters have to succumb to violence?” exchanges, but such statements ignore the realities that sexual minorities (or perhaps all kinds of minorities) face. Society has seemingly moved forward – legally and on a superficial level – but there will always be haters (whose hatred is really for themselves above all, even if it is unleashed on others). It’s a universal this sense of wanting something so much that ignoring danger makes sense. Hope springs eternal. Is the one night with a handsome man really worth it? Lance gets a warning – “go home, go to bed and sleep. You could walk away, right now… never look back. But he’s so damn handsome.” Devastating when you know what’s coming.

I’d say that though the show is focused on 46-year-old Henry, facing a midlife crisis and struggling with a stagnant relationship, Lance is its heart. Henry moves out of their common home into a warehouse apartment with two younger guys whose sexuality is a lot more open and fluid, which introduces the very different generational dynamics at play in the gay community. But Lance is what we care about and hope that maybe, just maybe, Henry will come to his senses and go back to Lance. When we lose Lance, we lose the sappy American idea of the “happy ending” reconciliation and see Henry grieve on all the different paths grief takes.

As stated, with a dearth of content on TV that focuses on the daily minutiae of LGBTQ life, comparisons between mostly dissimilar shows with only a similar theme in common are inevitable, e.g. Cucumber and Looking. The look that both take at discontent and dissatisfaction is telling in, as quoted above, a time when gay marriage is closer to becoming legally sanctioned in a majority of western countries and gay/LGBTQ relationships are becoming more openly accepted. Does this acceptance take away from or redefine the gay identity – usurp what many gay individuals need to feed their perceptions of themselves (e.g., young Dean, who features in both Cucumber and Banana, pretends to be alienated from his unaccepting, homophobic family, but we learn that he actually has a very accepting and loving family. He seems resentful of the fact that he cannot shock them with his being gay or “sexually subversive”). Does it change the foundation of what LGBTQ people thought their lives would be?

“Many of the arguments against marriage equality in the United States, an issue that may soon be settled nationally, have centered on the idea that admitting same-sex couples to the institution would irreparably alter it. But making marriage an option for those couples inevitably changes LGBT life too, if only by widening the scope of experiences available to lesbian, gay and bisexual people.” … “Advances towards equality still leave us, no matter who we are, with our own very human, very personal problems.”

LGBTQ on TV: Let’s not get it on

Maybe this is partly the point. Gay sex, gay identity, gay openness is not shocking enough to the average person any longer. I don’t want to diminish the reality of homophobia (the aforementioned “Lance” episode of Cucumber illustrates tragically that homophobia in all its forms is alive and well). While having sex probably does not define any individual or group, many people have long tried to insist that the LGBTQ experience is only about sex. When we reach a point at which it no longer shocks a wide swath of the population, and characters like Cucumber’s Henry are somewhat sex-averse (he has never tried penetrative sex, which is an unusual plot point, in that it flies in the face of what most non-gay audiences would imagine about gay men, and gets to a question recently addressed in an article on Salon), it is no longer just a story about people having sex.

The Salon article asserts that TV’s gay characters are a fairly sexless bunch, and that gay sexual lives on TV are too tame. It’s tempting to overreact to this article – to claim that shows like Banana and Cucumber, and for example, HBO’s Six Feet Under, have not shied away from gay sexual encounters at all (any more than any show in America at least – real, non-commoditized sexuality and nudity are still something of a taboo on American TV).

The article argues that the sexlessness is attributable to America’s squeamishness about seeing gay sex (or overt suggestions of it) on mainstream TV. Is this true? Does mainstream America at “family time/prime time” (i.e. before 22:00 in the evening) want to see overt sexuality from anyone? Plenty of innuendo but nothing explicit, so it is hard to say. Similarly the argument rests on the idea that Cam and Mitchell, Modern Family’s married gay couple, are so innocuous and sexless and appear to barely like each other. They are popular and easy to cheer for as gay characters because they pose no threat. While this might be true (because other characters are sexualized to some degree in the same show), it is still a primetime show, so nothing is overly sexual in its time slot. If you move a little later in the evening, you get the openly bisexual Nolan Ross on Revenge or Cyrus Beene on Scandal. And even ABC Family’s The Fosters, while presumably less “alarming” to middle America than gay men, focuses on a mixed-race, married female couple who are not only affectionate with each other but openly discuss their struggles to make time for sex with the demands of their careers and large, and always growing, family.

It is true that a lot of the best, most realistic, LGBTQ characters and couples don’t appear on mainstream, network TV – certainly not the most sexually active and adventurous characters. But cable channels (particularly paid channels, like HBO and Showtime) have always led the way with groundbreaking content, and in this sense, this is not an exception. Showtime’s Shameless gave us a truly fresh perspective on the subject with its improbable young couple, Ian and Mickey. HBO’s True Blood gave us a glimpse at very different kinds of sexuality in general, not just the out and proud sexuality of Lafayette. But various characters are changing the face of TV in subtle ways: Captain Ray Holt in Brooklyn Nine-Nine is a black police captain who faced both racism and homophobia in his work and who enjoys a loving, long-term interracial relationship with his partner; Omar Little the Robin Hood-like criminal in The Wire; David and Keith in Six Feet Under – another interracial relationship that came to be only after the uptight David could accept his own sexuality; Kevin and Scotty in Brothers & Sisters (and eventually Kevin’s Uncle Saul, who comes out quite late in life); Callie Torres and Arizona Robbins in Grey’s Anatomy; John Cooper in Southland; numerous characters who live unhappy, closeted lives because of the times they live in (Thomas Barrow in Downton Abbey, Sal Romero in Mad Men along with many other subtle and ambiguous characters who have come along throughout the seven season run of Mad Men, Nurse Mount in Call the Midwife). I did not always buy everything these characters did, and sometimes the stories involved them could feel a bit “placed” and token in nature. But it is encouraging that, slowly, this array of LGBTQ characters has become the new norm.

We have come a long way from the Jodie Dallas character in Soap, who started as a gay character who offered to have a sex-reassignment operation to be with his ultra-masculine football player boyfriend. Advertisers threatened to pull their support for the show, and for a while the show stood its ground. But eventually Jodie had relationships/flings with women and fathered a child. While he as a character maintained all along that he was gay, his character was a lightning rod in that he did not satisfy gay rights groups (justifiably concerned that the character would appear stereotypical or at the very least not representative of the gay community) and he did not make conservative groups happy simply because the character existed. But the character was a kind of pioneer – and we can at least see that the variety and depth of representation has changed a lot since the late 1970s when Soap was on the air.

With everything else that has changed in how the LGBTQ population is seen and accepted and has changed in how entertainment is produced and consumed, we should be able to think more creatively about how to produce and present things outside of the standard template.

Banoffee cupcakes – Baking experiments to eat at one’s own risk


Beware of baking experiments. As I have written before, I don’t taste any of these things, so the experiments especially are… well, totally experimental. This means that no one has tasted them before they end up on offer in the workplace, making my colleagues unwitting (even if entirely willing) lab rats. People take their taste buds into their own, eh, hands, every time – although this rings true more starkly when I am making something I have never attempted before.

Behold the banoffee cupcake, which is aptly named for banana and toffee mixed together. I made a lightly toffee-flavored cupcake and will fill it with caramel and banana and frost with dulce de leche Swiss buttercream. I doubt that this will be the final word in banoffee cupcake experimentation, however.

Banoffee cupcakes
3 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
12 tablespoons butter, softened
1 1/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup neutral-flavored vegetable oil
4 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla
3/4 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup dulce de leche (or some kind of thick caramel)

Preheat oven to 175C.

Whisk dry ingredients together and set aside. Cream butter and sugar, add the eggs, one at a time, scraping the sides of the bowl after each addition. Add the vanilla and oil. Alternately add the dry ingredient mixture with the buttermilk in three additions. Add the half-cup of dulce de leche.

Put batter into cupcake liners and bake – probably about 15 to 20 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. I used larger cupcake liners and it took closer to 35 minutes for mine to bake through.

To assemble, you can decide for yourself how best to deal with it. I am going to cut the center out of the cupcake and fill with dulce de leche and banana slices and frost with dulce de leche frosting. Maybe sprinkle some graham cracker crumbs and/or crushed Daim candy on top. We shall see.

This would be infinitely easier in cake form rather than individual cupcakes.