Butter and cinnamon sugar, slathered on a tortilla, then rolled up and sliced into bite-size rounds. That was my favorite childhood snack. It beat the sausage + cheese + crackers combo, the peanut butter + jelly sandwich, and the “skinny noodles” (Top Ramen). It even beat the handful of chocolate chips my mom used to give me in exchange for brushing her hair. I can’t say I won’t use that parenting strategy in the future. Good job, Mom.
Mom put a great amount of effort into her cooking, and it was delicious. Her meals were simple, tasteful, and nutritious (aside from the occasional pizza night and, per my request, Hamburger Helper). Perhaps the most important part - dinners were a family gathering, a time for us to sit together, enjoy something homemade, and be a family who is involved in one another’s lives. Whether we were eating pizza, Chinese takeout, or homemade spaghetti and meatballs, we were together. The meal could have been simple or elaborate, and delicious either way - what mattered most was each person sitting around the table.
There are times, unfortunately, when I forget that. Times when I focus far too heavily on perfecting a cake for someone’s birthday, instead of on that person and the birthday. Times when I let the disappointment of a failed recipe trial get to me for a whole day… sometimes more. If you know me, you know it’s basically in my blood to complicate things - the art of simplicity feels almost unattainable.
It’s a work in progress, and I’ve made significant progress by simplifying my recipes. Tahini and coconut flour and molasses. Dates and cashews and dark chocolate. Spiced swirls in banana bread. Grain-free carrot cake cupcakes. All of these twists keep this blog and my passion for all things in the kitchen alive, but they can sometimes stress me out. And amidst a new job, a new home, a new non-student lifestyle, and other things, more stress is the very last thing I need.
So I sought simplicity and comfort in three of my favorite flavors - creamy peanut butter, rich dark chocolate, and sweet banana. I slathered them on whole-wheat lavash bread, like Mom would have done with cinnamon sugar and butter on a tortilla back in the day, and grilled it to melty, gooey perfection. One rainy Sunday afternoon, Grace and I turned on Netflix with a plate of these perched between us on the couch and called it a day. A damn good day.
A damn good, simple day with an unbeatable dessert quesadilla, ideal for sharing and drooling over and being all messy with loved ones while you repeat over and over how much you love peanut butter + chocolate + banana.
Makes 4 servings
2 California Lavash Whole-Wheat Lavash breads
1 slightly ripe banana (just a few brown spots), thinly sliced into rounds
1/2 cup natural creamy peanut butter
1/4 cup dark chocolate chips
coconut oil or butter, for greasing the pan
Divide the 1/2 cup natural creamy peanut butter between the 2 lavash breads. Spread this into an even layer and top with banana slices on one half of each bread. Sprinkle dark chocolate chips over the top and then fold the half without banana slices over the other half.
Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium heat and lightly grease with coconut oil or butter. For better crisp and flavor on the lavash bread, I recommend using about a teaspoon for each half of lavash.
Cut the lavash into 8 squares and place 4 in the skillet at a time. Cover and cook for 2 minutes on each side, or until the chocolate chips have melted and the lavash bread turns a darker golden brown. Repeat until all the lavash has been cooked.
Serve immediately. Leftovers can be stored in an airtight container in the fridge for up to three days, but after one day, the banana changes to a much less desirable texture. I recommend making only as many quesadillas as you think will be eaten.
This post is sponsored by California Lavash - all statements and opinions are my own. Thanks for supporting my blog!