In the realm of cooking, baking might very well be the more artistic of all places.

Not unlike poetry, it relies on carefully balanced ingredients, some well known themes, to which your personal twist is needed for the overall experience to become unique at best, pleasing at least.
Is the magic of baking contained in the waiting and fantasizing that begin the moment the oven door is closed?

Yesterday the urge came back. I *had* to bake. Mix, whisk, cook and eat; there was no escaping it.
And such was the need that I aimed for the simplest and fastest solution. Barely looking at the directions, I grabbed ingredients and only took enough time for a few photos.

And there I was, briskly chopping chocolate away, delicately slicing a banana and happily smelling the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon.

Let’s not forget flaked almonds, lots of them, which I roasted until some of them started to blacken.

15 minutes of oven later, I was satisfied. The bananas had a melting/firm consistency, and the chocolate’s presence was noticeable, but not overpowering.
And let’s not get started on cinnamon!


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