Have you ever had bananas in your kitchen that were so black and shriveled, you almost threw them out? It's happened to me so many times. Day after day I I tell myself I will make a batch of banana muffins. And finally, the day arrives when I actually pick up the deflated bunch of almost unrecognizable fruit and head for the door, with intentions of taking them out to the woods for animals to enjoy. But, I just can't do it. So, this week, I squeezed the mushy fruit from its shriveled, dark skin and stirred it into a rich mix of cream cheese, sugar and eggs to make cheesecake.
I must back up a little bit at this point. Years ago, in 2005 actually, I copied a recipe for Hot Buttered Rum Cheesecakes with Rum-Caramel Sauce from that year's December issue of Bon Appetit magazine. I ordered a bunch of tiny (4 1/2-inch) springform pans, ready to make the cheesecakes and give them as gifts. It never happened that year, or any year since that time. But, I still have the recipe. I vaguely remembered the recipe instructions for reducing some dark rum to stir into the cake batter. With the experience of tasting warm, rum-spiked bananas foster still clear in my mind – I made several flaming pans full of the dessert for a recent fundraising event for the Headwaters Science Center in Bemidji – I wondered if I could match the flavors of that dessert in a cheesecake.
Most people would call them muffins, or maybe cupcakes. But, that sounds so ordinary. You know. Just the same old, same old. Not that I don't make muffins or cupcakes. But when I do, and when I put them on a plate with a sauce and a topping, they become babycakes. And suddenly, they become extraordinary.
If ginger is your thing, this is most definitely for you. I sit here writing and contemplating if I should go get another piece...it would be my fourth. There is something about 10 degree weather that makes you want to bake and eat. So I did.
Potatoes are my kryptonite. Those of you who have been reading here for a long time know my love of potatoes. I don't care if they are mashed, baked, fried, hashed...it just doesn't matter. I can't say no to them in any form. I really try to keep my distance from them but they call to me with their siren songs. Ugh.
I like Worcestershire Sauce. I admit it. One of the things I like about it is its name – how it was that extra thing in it – wor-cest-er-(shur)-ire sauce. I like the bottle, how it comes wrapped almost like a present. It’s almost a guilty pleasure, a secret ingredient that you don’t necessarily want to reveal, like sugar in spaghetti sauce, or sour cream in anything, or ketchup on a steak which I don’t feel guilty about, at all. 
