I have three first names. My birth name is Nancy Jane Barbara. I was named after my mother's best friend Nancy Jane. My last name, Barbara, is really pronounced Bar-bear-a, but over the years, much to my father's dismay, its rich Italian pronunciation evolved to Bar-bra as in Barbra Streisand. I don't know when it happened or how, it just did. And it's a nuisance especially when people ask me my last name and I say "Bar-bra." They react by stating, "No, your last name." So, I say "Bar-bra" again, and they get exasperated and say something condescending like, "No, honey, I mean your LAST name." I'm now so accustomed to saying Bar-bra that when I try saying Bar-bear-a, that extra syllable makes me feel like another person. I tried it for an entire day once and it was truly an odd feeling; but no one ever asked me to repeat my last name.When I was a child, I knew I was in trouble if my mother called me 'Nancy Jane!" And, strangely enough, my cousins always called me Nancy Jane whether I was in trouble or not. Everyone had a middle name on the Bar-bear-a side of the family and used it; they also used the correct pronunciation of Bar-bear-a. I think my mother "Americanized" our last name, but the story, as with all of my family's stories, is convoluted.
Before I was enrolled in kindergarten, if I ever did get in trouble, which was rare, my punishment led to a nick name I still carry from time to time, and that's Nancy-Pantsie. You see, my mother would make me sit out on the back stoop in just my underpants. The punishment was not only humiliating, but it stopped me in my tracks. I was an active kid, always running, biking and playing shink-ball all over the neighborhood. Often times, I'd go past the two-block limit that was set for me, so sitting me down in my underwear thwarted me from going anywhere far from home.
All through grammar school and high school, I was just plain Nancy (guess I never got in trouble). When I went to college on a tennis scholarship, my nick-name was Ace due to my clever ability to ace my opponents on the first serve. I wasn't ever really sure if anyone knew my real name because by the time I was a sophomore everyone referred to me simply as Ace. When I went to graduate school, I ended up being called Nance by most people, which I didn't mind. It's always been interesting to me how people juggle my name.
My moniker at my day job, for at least the last twelve years or so, is Nan. A former manager at Barnes & Noble just started calling me Nan and it stuck. There have been several variations on Nan, such as Nanners, Nanager (blending Nan and Manager), and Banana Nan. Outside of work, my friends still call me Nancy, although some have jumped on the Nan band-wagon, and now and then, a Nance escapes the lips of others.
In case you're wondering where Banana Nan comes from, well, 'tis the season for Nan's annual baNANa bread bake-a-thon. I started this tradition about ten years ago by making 45 or so mini-loaves of banana bread to give to the staff at B&N during the holidays. Sometime before Christmas, I pick a time when, from sunrise to well past midnight, I can spend flouring up the kitchen and spattering the walls with thick, rich banana bread dough. It's quite an ordeal orchestrating what's now come to baking about 100 little loaves of banana bliss. I pull out the 20-pound cobalt-blue mixer, line up all the ingredients in the order that my recipe calls for them and I start the assembly line from spraying each tin with cooking spray, to filling them just the right depth with smooth banana goodness to wrapping them in festive plastic wrap. The mixer spins non-stop for hours and the house smells like vanilla-baked bananas with buttery cinnamon drizzled on top.
These days, there must be some kind of banana bread button that gets subliminally pushed right around Halloween, because lately, starting in early November, people begin asking me when the baNANa breads are coming . Those initial 45 loaves have now doubled, at least. No longer do I bake just for the staff at B&N. Friends and neighbors who hear of my 16 hour banana marathon ask when their mini-loaves are coming. And, now, it's not just one loaf per person! Lamenting friends and colleagues drop hints such as, "Oh my husband ate all of mine! Can I have two next year?" or "I'm going to eat this one for breakfast, too bad I won't have another to eat later on at home!" Despite the constant pleas, I still make the loaves mid-December and deliver them slightly warm from the oven around breakfast time at the store.
For the holidays, we hang bright red stockings trimmed in white in our break room; each tagged with a bookseller's name. I stuff each little pocket with one or two loaves, depending on the order. The break room quickly attracts hungry booksellers sniffing and smiling at the wafting banana breath exhaling from the room.
It looks like the time has come to get shopping for this year's baNANa bread boNANza.. Let's see, one-hundred mini-loaves? Here's what I'll need:
12 pounds of butter
10 pounds of sugar
24 pounds of unbleached flour
72 eggs
24 tablespoons of baking soda
24 tablespoons of salt
24 tablespoons of cinnamon
150 bananas
9 quarts of sour cream
24 oz of pure vanilla extract
100 mini pans
1 can of Pam with Flour for Baking
2 rolls of festive plastic wrap
comfortable shoes
Christmas music
Imagine what that shopping cart looks like, not to mention the looks I get while standing in line with my very own banana boat.
In case you want to make just one banana bread like a normal person, here's a pared down recipe:
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, at room temperature
1 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 1/2 cups unbleached flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup mashed very ripe bananas
1/2 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon
Preheat oven to 350, spray or butter your loaf pan (9x5x3), cream the butter and sugar with an electric mixer. Add eggs and beat well. Sift (important) dry ingredients together and combine with the butter mixture. Blend well and add bananas (very ripes ones), sour cream and vanilla (use the real stuff, not the imitation kind). If you want, you can add nuts. My breads, however, are all female. Stir well. Fill pan almost to the top and bake 1 hour.
And, that's why it's called BaNANa Bread. If you want one in your pocket, place your order now!
