Sparkling Pineapple Rum Cocktail

I used to be the girl who preferred the shadows. I drew comfort from the anonymity, from the lack of attention, from the invisibility cloak I chose to wear around my shoulders. I shied away from conversations, preferring to observe rather than participate. While I often wished I could be the boisterous and reactive one in the room, it was enough for me to simply watch them. As an observer in the shadows, I learned of the nature of those around me. I pinpointed those who filled the lulls in conversation, afraid of the silence, afraid to be left with the sound of their thoughts. I identified with those who were quiet just as myself, knowing their minds were buzzing with unsaid thoughts and opinions.

Then one day I stepped out into the light.

It is hard to say when or why it happened. I certainly did not anticipate it coming. While debating dinner plans with friends, I noticed a quiet girl nearby listening, wearing the cloak of shadows I knew so well. I had seen her before, here and there, as we went about our days. This time, however, I felt an unfamiliar pull to talk to her, to invite her to join our dinner plans. And so I did. And so did she. I may never be the boisterous one in the room, but I am no longer afraid to expand my comfort zone to include new people and situations.

While I still retreat to the shadows now and then, I find the light brings a certain warmth.

In some ways, this cocktail reminds me of an unnoticed person, hiding in the shadows. It is not flashy or showy. It does not sparkle in the light like a glass of white wine or feature hundreds of fizzing bubbles like a flute of champagne. It does not have layers like a rainbow or feature bright, bold colors. It is a simple drink. A subtle drink. Pale yellow and opaque, it may not seem like much to the unaided eye.

To give it a hard look, to take a sip, opens your eyes to something you may not have considered before. You may even find it beautiful.

Sparkling Pineapple Rum Cocktail is a balanced, fizzy cocktail. Pineapple juice and ginger ale come together, effortlessly mixing together the sweetness of the soda and the tartness of the juice. With a shot (or two) of dark rum thrown in the mix, the cocktail can hold its ground. When I had my first sip, I was pleasantly surprised. The bright flavor drew me in and it truly felt like something special.

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Banana Rum Bread

Like the ebb and flow of the ocean tides, inspiration seems to come and go with a steady rhythm. Some days it rides in on a large wave, electric and exciting as it washes over me. Eventually the inspiration is called back into the sea and I desperately grasp at the departing water, trying futilely to hold onto the last remains as it slides easily between my fingertips.

With the last burst of warmth before fall surrounding me, I've been feeling inspired by everything from the color of ripe peaches to the golden light before the sun sets.

This time the inspiration for this recipe unexpectedly stood out between a set of paragraphs—"Today I learned how to bake mean banana bread. The secret apparently is half a cup of dark rum." The baker in me, interest piqued, wondered if it could be true. Was this the secret to baking up a remarkable banana bread? With such a bold claim written in front of me, a secret ingredient exposed, the impulse to discover the truth propelled me forward.

The bananas were purchased. They rested on the counter until speckled and brown. The batter was mixed, the rum was added, and when the loaf emerged from the oven, hot and steamy, I didn't wait until it cooled to take a bite.

Puzzled, I took another taste. The rum, it seemed, was nowhere to be found.

In my sheer desire to taste the barest hint of rum, a third of the loaf disappeared in front of my searching eyes. Defeated, I divided up the rest to share with friends, hoping they could taste something I couldn't. Even so, the consensus was clear—though it was a good loaf of bread, it just didn't live up to my rum-infused expectations. I allowed myself to drift into other projects, forgetting about the loaf of bread. The banana bread, however, wasn't finished with me.

Out of the blue, my friend informed me that a couple of days later the banana bread had mysteriously changed in the night. It seemed the rum flavor missing on that crucial first day had finally come out to play. In disbelief, I rushed to the store to buy another set of bananas and the cycle repeated once more. With my patience tested, I waited the right amount of time for the rum to emerge before I took a bite. As promised, it was there, subtle and sneaky.

Inspiration, ever mysterious, likes to keep me on my toes, reminding me I can't always find it when I'm looking for it. Unpredictable, it can be found equally in a few words in a novel full of sentences or in the virtues of a friend who can hold out on a loaf of banana bread longer than myself.

Banana Rum Bread is a boozy twist on the traditional loaf of banana bread. Like a fine wine, the longer the banana bread rests on the counter top (or sits in the refrigerator), the stronger the rum flavor will develop. The first day the rum flavor is completely absent, but the subtle flavor slowly creeps in the following days, resulting in tingling tongues and happy taste buds. The banana bread batter is a very basic recipe so you could certainly throw in a pinch of cinnamon or a handful of chocolate chips if you desire, but the real star is the half a cup of dark rum.

Note: All of the rum does not bake out of the bread, so this is not an appropriate recipe to share with children.

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Rum Raisin Oatmeal Cookies

“It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on earth has ever produced the expression,
'As pretty as an airport.'” ― Douglas Adams

In my many travels, airports stand to be the most polarizing form of moving from one place to another. On one hand, I find airports to be indispensable—there is no way I could have traveled as far and wide as I have without them (and for that alone I feel as if I am indebted). On the other hand, I find nothing enchanting about my time spent in an airport. People love to romanticize airports, waxing and waning over the anticipation of travel or adventure, meeting old friends or coming home to family members (and these are certainly a part of the experience), but those small moments are swept away in the 5:00 am trips through airport security and the long hours of waiting.

I'm quite certain I've never walked into an airport at a reasonable time of day. Early mornings are a common theme as I set my alarm for a cringe-inducing hour, waking several times throughout the night in a panic that I've forgotten to pack something important. Soon follow the quiet moments of hauling luggage, finding boarding passes, and removing shoes to walk through the metal detector, wondering why I specifically wore a belt on today of all days. While waiting for the airplane to begin boarding, I watch my fellow passengers find the gate, all of whom seem to be in a similar state of dry eyes and caffeine-induced disarray.

A moment spent in an airport is a moment spent in limbo. Time runs on its own accord, jumping forward and backward faster than you can keep pace. It's a place that's neither here nor there, a small plot of land unto itself. It's a place where people gather and disperse. A place no one can call home. Only on a westward flying airplane can you daydream about a cheeseburger and French fries, but arrive to Egg McMuffins and disappointment.

Airports can be romantic in fairy tales and homecoming events, but I'd argue the typical reality falls a little short. My true problem with airports is not being allowed to buy a hamburger at nine in the morning when your body is telling you it's noon.

There is a place in my heart for oatmeal and raisins. It was only a matter of time for rum to join the mix. These Rum Raisin Oatmeal Cookies have all the qualities of the classic oatmeal raisin cookie with a boozy twist. The cookie base has a dark depth of flavor (in part from the addition of molasses), but the rum-soaked raisins steal the show. The cookies bake up soft and stay tender long after their stay in the oven. These cookies are not for the kids, so please keep them out of the younger ones' hands.

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