I am Raven Marzipan Wilder. What can I say, my father was a nature enthusiast and my mom was a baker. She moved and semi-retired to Stewart Island with my Aunt Emilia, shortly after dad passed away. That was 5 years ago.
By the way, I hate marzipan. If I were to rename myself according to a favorite sweet treat, I’d be Raven Tim Tam Wilder.
Maybe Raven Banana Muffin Wilder. That has a nicer ring to it.
Speaking of which, the banana muffins in my freezer will probably be the last ones I ever eat. Unless New Zealand suddenly turns tropical and start sprouting banana trees. Who knows, there’s a lot of weird shit happening lately.
Note that the muffins are shaped like cartoon piggies. I like my death row meal with a side of cute.
I am a food truck vendor. Well, I was. Until the undead — a crowd not really catered for at the Harbourside Market — ate most of my customers.
Prior to that, I was a content writer for a food magazine. I quit so I could work full time on the The Spitfire, a 2007 Ford E450 truck, bought second-hand from TradeMe.
Said vehicle is currently parked at a rented storage-with-a-toilet in Kilbirnie, the suburb next door. I live on a hill, fronting the airport in the Miramar Peninsula – it’s amazing, all day sun during summer. You can bask like a lizard and soak up sunshine into your pores. The downside – there’s no garage. And the narrow, winding road made sure that only crappy street parking is available. Hence, the need to rent The Spitfire’s en suite accommodation.
My house is high up on a steep incline, just angled enough to warrant a cable car. If you’re feeling adventurous, you could rappel down for a hit of adrenaline rush. My best friend, Finn, reckons I should acquire a fairy tale princess of my own. To, you know, let down her golden hair. Which made me the villainous old crone, I realized. That bastard.
But maybe living like the Wicked Witch of the Eastern Suburbs was what saved my ass. I have an emergency water tank, a small veggie garden in the conservatory, no immediate neighbors, and my evil lair was easy to fortify. It may not be made out of gingerbread, but I have a chest freezer half-filled with slabs of pork and chorizo sausages. Okay, so maybe I couldn’t eat them all before the power runs out.
I’ll trade them for important stuff. Like toilet paper. And tampons.
I am a survivor. Fuck you, World. I am a survivor.
— RECIPE —
Adapted from The Joy of Baking
- 115 grams WALNUTS, crushed
- 3 large or 5 medium ripe BANANAS (approximately 450g), mashed well
- 230 grams SELF RAISING FLOUR
- 1 teaspoon BAKING POWDER
- 1/4 teaspoon BAKING SODA
- 1/4 teaspoon SALT
- 115 grams BUTTER, melted
- 2 (size 7) EGGS
- 100 grams HONEY, liquid
- 1 teaspoon VANILLA EXTRACT
Preheat oven at 180 degrees C.
Bash the walnuts with a large hammer, or crush them with a hefty coffee mug. Set aside.
Mash the bananas really well with a fork. If you have a deficit of fruit, make up the difference with plain, Greek or vanilla yogurt. Set aside.
Grab a large bowl, and throw in the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and walnuts. Mix with a spatula.
Make a well in the center, then dump in the melted butter, mashed bananas (and yogurt), and eggs.
Squirt in some honey for sweetness.
Spoon in in the vanilla extract.
Lightly fold, until combined. Don't over mix.
Fill up a muffin pan with some colorful muffin cases. Or drab ones, don’t let me stop you.
Most people use an Ice Cream scoop for even distribution, but I severely lack kitchen utensils so I just spooned in approximates.
Bake in the middle rack for about 20 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted at the center of a muffin comes away clean.
Makes: 24 (silicone molded) piggies
or 12 standard size muffins