Many, many years ago now, on a cold Calgary day, I sought out some warmth at lunch time at a local artisan soup and sandwich shop.

Such places are much more common now, but back then all I knew was that the fresh baked bread looked delicious and the smell coming from the place was divine. Also, I was cold and hungry.

They had as one of their soup specials that day something that they called “West African Peanut Soup,”  which felt to me like it was all of the comfort of a bowl of tomato soup, wrapped up with child-like joy of having a peanut butter sandwich as an adult. Creamy (but with no cream), a little sweet, a little spicy, incredibly hearty and filling and great for warming up on a cold day. It came with some of that freshly baked bread for dipping.

I was in love.

Way back in 1985, my family made the very long drive from Toronto, Canada to Orlando, Florida for a magical summer vacation together.

To help fight boredom during the drive, dad had picked up several books on tape.

One of these was John Wyndham’s post-apocalyptic novel Day of the Triffids, in which large plants (in my memory I always think “alien” plants, but strictly speaking this is not the case in the novel) take over the world. I actually remember little else about the novel, having been too scared by what I heard to ever pick it up for an actual reading, except that there were giant killer plants and that they were terrifying. Also, lots of people were blind.

Anyhow, while we were in Florida enjoying Disney World or Epcot, at some point, somewhere — the details lost to history — we came across a farming display of some kind that featured giant sunflowers.

To my 9-year old imagination, nothing I had ever seen could possibly have looked more like a giant evil killer plant than a giant sunflower, with it’s looming height and empty, soulless face.

They gave me the creeps.

That was when I made the mistake of saying out loud what, in hindsight, I should have kept to myself. I told my family that “those giant sunflowers creep me out.”

Over the years, my loving family has never let me forget it. The details or my reasoning behind why I said it hasn’t mattered. It went from “giant sunflowers give Chris the creeps” to “Chris is scared of sunflowers” rather quickly. In fact, it’s probably second only to “It’s like I’m afraid of that sandwich!” (a whole other story, there) in the pantheon of Things My Family Won’t Let Me Forget. I’m pretty sure that at some point my sister even got me a birthday card with a sunflower on it just to see my reaction, and I’m glad to say I let her down by not even noticing.

Anyhow, all of this is to say, sunflowers and I have a long and complicated history.

Like most (?) toddlers, my oldest son is rather enamored with quesadilla.

We play around with ingredients, but even just plain old’ cheese is almost always a surefire hit for lunch or dinner.

So, one day I decided it was high time I tried making my own tortillas, and boy am I ever glad I did. This hasn’t ended up meaning we never buy tortillas, but these are an easy way to make a meal that much more delicious.

I was a little intimidated about it since I don’t have a tortilla press, but, at least for this sort of tortilla, I was fine without. The final product is almost naan-like with its delicious char, and would work for just about any application where you’d use a tortilla or flat-bread, be they quesadilla, tacos, fajitas, wraps, gyros, or even mini-pizzas.

Bananas are one of my oldest son’s favorite foods. Unless we’re completely out, he eats one just about every morning. So as you can imagine, I find myself picking up a bunch of bananas almost every time we’re at the grocery store.

Of course, having bananas on hand all the time means I occasionally have overripe ones that need to be used, and this recipe is the perfect way to do so.

This is also one of those recipes that are great to get your kids to help you prepare. My son loves mashing the bananas.

The only problem with this stuff, is that it WANTS to be eaten. If you find the loaf suddenly all gone, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

When it comes to delicious but deceptively easy meals, this has to be one of my favorites.

It’s simple, but it’s so full of flavor that it seems like it seems like a much more complicated dish. I don’t believe I’ve ever had saltimbocca any other way, but I believe it is commonly made using veal and can get much more complicated (with breading, cheese, stuffing, etc.) so I make no claims this is authentic, just that it tastes great.

I made this tonight with a few changes to make it edible by my visiting mother-in-law, which I’ll note as I go in italicized parenthesis, because really, I can’t bear the thought of anyone thinking they need to use Smart Balance instead of butter.

But I digress.