Vanilla Avocado Banana Smoothie In A Bowl

Angela stopped by unannounced on Wednesday — Angela's version of a welfare check, disguised as "I was in the neighborhood" even though my apartment is in nobody's neighborhood; it's in Spenard, which is its own world, a neighborhood of dive bars and vintage shops and the particular Anchorage energy that says: we are weird and we are fine with it. Angela brought takeout pho from the Vietnamese place on Benson Boulevard and two cans of sparkling water and the expression she wears when she's worried but trying not to show it, which is the same expression Lourdes wears, which is the same expression I probably wear when I'm worried about Joseph on the water. The Santos women have one worry face. We share it. It's genetic.

We ate the pho on the couch. I told her I'm okay. She said, "I believe you." I said, "Do you?" She said, "I believe you're trying to be okay, and for now, that's the same thing." Angela is twenty-five and sometimes says things that belong in a therapist's office, not a twenty-five-year-old dental hygienist's mouth. She is wise beyond her teeth-cleaning. She is wise because she found me on the floor and the finding made her watchful, and the watching made her wise.

She told me she and James are still trying. Seven months now. No pregnancy. She's not worried yet, but James is — the engineer in him wants to troubleshoot, wants to run diagnostics, wants to find the variable that's preventing the outcome. Angela told him, "Bodies aren't computers, James. You can't debug a uterus." I laughed. The first real laugh in two weeks. The laugh was medicine. The pho was medicine. Angela, sitting on my couch in January, bringing soup and laughter — that was the best medicine.

I made turon that evening — banana spring rolls, the Filipino dessert snack, plantains wrapped in lumpia wrapper with jackfruit and brown sugar, fried until the sugar caramelizes and the wrapper shatters and the banana inside is soft and sweet. Turon is Lourdes's after-school snack, the food that greeted us when we walked in from school in Mountain View, the smell of frying sugar that meant home. I ate three turon standing at the counter. Then I sat down. The standing is a tell. The sitting is the correction. I'm correcting.

The turon I made that evening was Lourdes’s recipe, and it belonged to that night exactly — to the smell of caramelizing sugar and the particular relief of Angela’s laugh still warm in the apartment. But banana as comfort food lives beyond the frying pan, and in the days that followed I kept coming back to it in a quieter form: this smoothie bowl, cold and creamy and sweet, something I could make slowly and eat sitting down. The avocado rounds out the banana the way a good sister rounds out a hard week — soft where you need it, grounding when you don’t know you’re drifting.

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

Ingredients

2 ripe bananas, sliced and frozen
1 ripe avocado, pitted and peeled
1/2 cup full-fat coconut milk (or whole milk)
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 tablespoon honey or maple syrup, plus more to taste
Pinch of sea salt
Toppings (optional): sliced fresh banana, granola, toasted coconut flakes, a drizzle of honey

Instructions

Freeze the bananas. If you haven’t already, slice the bananas and freeze them for at least 2 hours or overnight. Frozen banana is what gives the bowl its thick, creamy texture.
Blend the base. Add the frozen banana slices, avocado, coconut milk, vanilla extract, honey, and sea salt to a blender or food processor. Blend on high until completely smooth and thick, scraping down the sides as needed. The mixture should be thicker than a drinkable smoothie — if it’s too loose, add a few more frozen banana slices; if it’s too thick to blend, add coconut milk one tablespoon at a time.
Taste and adjust. Taste the blended base and adjust sweetness with additional honey if desired. The banana and coconut milk carry a natural sweetness, so add conservatively.
Pour and top. Divide the smoothie between two bowls. Arrange your toppings — sliced fresh banana, a handful of granola, a scatter of toasted coconut flakes, and a thin drizzle of honey work beautifully here.
Serve immediately. Smoothie bowls are best eaten right away, before the frozen base begins to melt and loosen. Sit down. Take your time with it.

Nutrition (per serving)

Vanilla Avocado Banana Smoothie In A Bowl — The Banana That Brought Me Back