Banana Split — The Sweetness That Holds the Week Together

Atlanta summer — ninety-four degrees by noon. Set the Table at New Birth Saturday morning. Six girls. We did baked chicken.

Daddy in his apartment in the back. I brought him his coffee and his medication this morning. He grumbled. The grumble was the love. Marcus, 21, studying for finals at Alabama.

Banana pudding Friday. Nilla wafers. Custard from scratch — none of that boxed nonsense.

Jasmine, 19, home from Howard for the weekend. Isaiah, 18, called from Charlotte — coaching season starting.

Sunday dinner held. The table was full. The food was right.

Saturday morning I had Set the Table at the Cascade Heights center. Twelve young women. We did baked chicken. One of them — Imani, sixteen — was so afraid of seasoning that she barely shook the salt. I stood next to her and put my hand over hers and said, baby, you cannot be afraid of food. We seasoned the chicken. The chicken came out right. She glowed.

Andre called from LA. He told the Kevin Hart story again. Twenty-some years and that boy is still telling that story. Everyone in this family is going to hear about Kevin Hart at our funerals.

The blood pressure check was Wednesday. The numbers were borderline. The doctor wants me to walk more. I am walking more.

Tuesday evening I sat at the kitchen table with my composition notebook and worked on the cookbook. From Brenda's Kitchen — that's the working title. I cannot write the introduction without crying yet.

Daddy sat in his chair after dinner watching the news. He fell asleep before the third quarter. Standard.

I went to the cemetery Saturday morning. Brenda's grave is on the hill at South-View. Curtis still goes most Sundays. I left a small bouquet of magnolias.

Wednesday Bible study at the church. We read through Proverbs. The women in my row argued about whether wisdom is built or born. I said both. They agreed, sort of.

I drove to the Walmart on Camp Creek Saturday morning. The kind of grocery run that takes two hours because you run into three people you know. Sister Patrice caught me in the produce. We talked about her grandbaby for fifteen minutes.

Sunday service at New Birth this morning. The choir sang. I sang soprano in the second alto row. Pastor preached about Naomi and Ruth. The congregation said amen. I said amen.

Miss Ernestine called Tuesday. She's ninety-something and sharp as ever. She told me my potato salad still needs more mustard.

Thursday I made cornbread for a sister at church whose husband had surgery. I dropped it off at the hospital. She cried at the door. I told her, eat the cornbread, baby. The food is the saying.

I read for an hour Sunday night before bed. Some novel about a Black woman in 1960s Alabama. Mama would have liked it.

Pastor preached about the prodigal son again. He preaches about that boy at least three times a year. The text is the text but every preaching is different. I cried in the second service this time. Don't ask me why.

I made a casserole for the church potluck. The pan came back empty. That is the only review I trust.

The neighbors had a Friday cookout this week. I brought my mac and cheese. They have come to expect this. I have come to expect this. The block is the block.

The kids were home for the weekend. The house was loud the way it should be.

Derek and I had date night Friday. Same restaurant, same booth, same enchiladas for me and carne asada for him.

I made the banana pudding Friday — from scratch, custard and all — and by Sunday every last bit of it was gone, which told me everything I needed to know about how the weekend went. When the house is full and the kids are loud the way they should be and Daddy is grumbling in his chair and Marcus is home from Alabama, you need a dessert that rises to the occasion. A Banana Split does exactly that: it’s generous, it’s joyful, and it puts a banana right at the center where it belongs. This one’s for the table that held.

Banana Split

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

• 2 ripe bananas, peeled and halved lengthwise
• 3 scoops vanilla ice cream
• 3 scoops chocolate ice cream
• 3 scoops strawberry ice cream
• 1/4 cup hot fudge sauce, warmed
• 1/4 cup strawberry sauce or crushed fresh strawberries
• 1/4 cup pineapple topping
• 1/2 cup whipped cream
• 2 tablespoons chopped roasted peanuts
• 6 maraschino cherries
• Rainbow sprinkles, optional

Instructions

1. Prep the bananas. Peel each banana and split it lengthwise. Place one split banana along each side of a long banana split dish or shallow bowl, cut side facing in to cradle the ice cream.
2. Add the ice cream. Scoop one ball each of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry ice cream into the center of the dish, nestled between the banana halves.
3. Add the toppings. Spoon warm hot fudge sauce over the chocolate ice cream, pineapple topping over the vanilla, and strawberry sauce over the strawberry ice cream.
4. Finish with whipped cream. Pipe or spoon generous dollops of whipped cream over each scoop of ice cream.
5. Garnish and serve. Scatter chopped peanuts evenly across the top, place a maraschino cherry on each whipped cream mound, and add sprinkles if desired. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 680 | Protein: 9g | Fat: 28g | Carbs: 102g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 210mg