By Kevin's two-year sobriety anniversary is in three weeks. I know the date the way I know my own birthday ╬ôçö November 8, 2018, the day he checked himself into the sober living facility in Portland, the day the sobriety that stuck began. I haven't said anything to him about it. Kevin doesn't like countdowns. He says counting forward puts too much pressure on the next day, that sobriety is daily and the only number that matters is one. He's right, probably. But I count anyway, privately, the way you count a child's heartbeats on a monitor ╬ôçö not because counting changes anything but because the counting itself is a form of prayer.
Dr. Yoon and I talked about the counting this week. She asked who the counting is for. I said Kevin. She waited. I said me. She nodded ╬ôçö the Dr. Yoon nod that means "keep going, you're almost there." I said: I count because if I stop counting, it means I've accepted that he's okay, and if I accept that he's okay, I have to put down the vigilance I've been carrying since I was twenty-three and he called me from that hospital in Portland at two AM. And if I put that down, I don't know what's underneath it. She said, "Maybe rest." I drove home and thought about that for a long time.
I made sundubu-jjigae on Thursday ╬ôçö soft tofu stew, the base a concentrated anchovy and kelp broth, the gochugaru generous, an egg cracked into the bubbling pot at the last second so it cooks in the residual heat. It's a stew I associate with comfort in its most aggressive form ╬ôçö hot, red, demanding your attention, impossible to eat while thinking about anything else. I needed that this week. A meal that pulls you into the present tense. James added a handful of clams to his bowl because he's Taiwanese and Taiwanese people put shellfish in everything, and honestly it was an improvement I'll never admit to him.
Saturday morning, I made Karen's banana bread from memory ╬ôçö the recipe she made every fall when I was growing up, overripe bananas and too much vanilla and walnuts on top. I wrapped half and mailed it to David and Karen. The other half James and I ate warm, standing at the counter, the way you eat banana bread when you're the adult and no one can tell you to sit down. Sometimes I need to cook Korean. Sometimes I need to cook Bellevue. This week I needed both.
The banana bread I made Saturday — Karen’s recipe, the one I know by feel more than measurement — reminded me that some baking isn’t really about the food. It’s about the act of returning to something steady when everything else feels uncertain. These blender spinach banana muffins aren’t Karen’s recipe, but they carry the same spirit: overripe bananas, a batter that comes together faster than your anxiety can catch up with you, something warm to pull from the oven and share. I make them now when I need to bake but don’t need the weight of memory — just the comfort of the ritual itself.
Blender Spinach Banana Muffins
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 12 muffins
Ingredients
- 2 ripe bananas
- 1 cup fresh baby spinach, packed
- 2 large eggs
- 1/4 cup honey or maple syrup
- 1/4 cup plain Greek yogurt
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1 1/2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
- 1/3 cup mini chocolate chips or chopped walnuts (optional)
Instructions
- Preheat. Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C) and line a 12-cup muffin tin with paper liners or lightly grease with cooking spray.
- Blend the wet ingredients. Add the bananas, spinach, eggs, honey (or maple syrup), Greek yogurt, and vanilla extract to a blender. Blend on high for about 45 seconds until completely smooth and the spinach is fully incorporated — the batter will be a bright green.
- Add dry ingredients. Add the rolled oats, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon to the blender. Pulse 8–10 times until just combined; do not over-blend or the muffins will be dense.
- Fold in mix-ins. If using chocolate chips or walnuts, stir them in by hand with a spatula so they stay whole.
- Fill and bake. Divide the batter evenly among the 12 muffin cups, filling each about 3/4 full. Bake for 18–22 minutes, until the tops are set and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
- Cool. Let the muffins cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack. They are especially good eaten warm, standing at the kitchen counter.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 120 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 3g | Carbs: 21g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 115mg