
“I been workin’ here at The DQ for about, um… eight months? Seven? I don’t know, somethin’ like that, it’s fun. Just do the cones… make sundaes, make Blizzards, ‘n… put stuff on ’em, ‘n… see a lot of people come in, a lot of people come to The DQ… burgers… ice cream… anything, you know? Cokes… just drive in and get a Coke, if you’re thirsty”. In WAITING FOR GUFFMAN, the smartest movie ever made, Libbie Mae Brown comes to grips with the disappointments of her life, when she says: “I’ll always have a place at the Dairy Queen”. Here Adair Seldon from Lentil Breakdown tries in her own savvy way to get back to The DQ with The Lick-Your-Bowl-Clean Plantain Banana Split. GREG
Don’t hate me because I’m white trash. Just ‘cause a young Texas girl liked Dairy Queen banana splits, that doesn’t make her a hick. I don’t even have an accent, y’all. Some people just have humble beginnings.
Back when gas was cheap and skies were blue, my parents would take us three kids on summer vacations in our gold Oldsmobile Delta 88. From Dallas, we’d drive somewhere every year—west to the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone or the Rocky Mountains; east to New Orleans or the Smoky Mountains; or maybe north to Lake of the Ozarks. The USA was our playground, and we valiantly marked our turf. En route, we’d stop at some oases along the highway like Stuckey’s—you know, the place with the big yellow sign with red type that said, Home of the World Famous Pecan Log Roll. I wondered just how world famous it really was. Would a Zulu tribesman know of this cylindrical, nut-encrusted treat? Once in a while we’d venture into a Howard Johnson’s restaurant for some ice cream. My favorite flavor was the apple strudel with pie crust in it. That was a novelty, before the advent of the mix-in. I should have seen it coming. But more often we’d stop at that southern fixture known as Dairy Queen.
Home of the DQ Dude chicken-fried steak sandwich, a Dairy Queen always seemed to be there when you needed one (Sorry, deep-fried dude, but nobody needed you.). In ice cream weather, you could always count on their Dilly Bars and banana splits for a cool respite from the Lone Star sun. The other burger franchises only had milkshakes, but a banana split was a belt notch beyond. A banana, three scoops of ice cream, hot fudge, whipped cream and a cherry was the stuff of kid lust. (Hmmm, that sounded a little creepy. Delete thoughts of Pete Townshend and Roman Polanski.) Yep, there was something about a banana split from Dairy Queen that said, Go on now…clean your bowl…be a hog. Welcome to Tejas! So clean our bowls and loosen our belts we did. It was a summer rite of passage.
When we ate ice cream at home, I always wanted to lick my bowl clean to get every last drop. If I did it at the table, my dad would grimace, and in that tone of his, tell me to stop. Then mom would overrule him by chiming in, “Go in the other room and do it.” So I’d take my bowl into the den, and like a cat, lap up every microscopic smidgen of sweetness before returning with my fully sated belly and sparkling-clean bowl. Who needed a dishwasher with me around? Yes, mom and I were partners in cream. I was the butter pecan perpetrator and she was my witting accomplice. Somehow, she would ingrain in her daughter both good manners and a deep, abiding don’t-ask, don’t-tell policy toward sweets.
Now after living in California for half my life, I can’t recall the last time I went to a Dairy Queen or had a banana split. So I asked myself if I would even like one today, with those subpar ingredients and me being an esteemed gastronomer and all. So to prove that a Dallas girl can go from the hot Texas sun to haute California cuisine, I concocted an upscale banana split with caramelized plantains, vanilla bean ice cream, bittersweet chocolate sauce and roasted pecans. With both states’ proximity to Mexican plantains and a nod to Texas pecans, this reinvention seems only fitting. But after licking my bowl clean, that’s the only thing fitting. Some things never change.
Note: I’ve never licked my bowl in public, and I swear l’m not white trash. Adair
Plantain Banana Split serves 2 CLICK here for a printable recipe
- 1 large black, soft plantain that’s almost mushy (they take longer than bananas to ripen. Give it a week and a half lead time)
- 2 TBSP butter or organic canola oil
- Vanilla bean ice cream
- 1/3 cup bittersweet chocolate chips or a few sections from a bar
- Handful of pecan halves
Slice plantains and fry in a large skillet in butter or oil till soft, brown and caramelized, or roast them with oil in the oven on a baking sheet at 400 degrees, turning once.
Toast the pecans in the oven for a few minutes until brown but not burnt.
When the plaintains are done, set aside.
Heat the chocolate in a small bowl in the microwave on low in 30-second increments until soft and oozing, or cook on stove in double boiler. Stir chocolate.
Assemble plantain slices in two bowls or plates with a scoop of ice cream, and drip the chocolate sauce over ice cream, then sprinkle with pecan pieces.
Eat, then lick bowl in other room.
For a second I thought this was blackberry catsup. 😉
This would rock as a glaze for grilled chicken. I might have to see if I can get enough blackberries from the patch at the end of our street.
This is a VERY interesting recipe! Being a lover of 5‑spice I can see it being paired with blackberries. YUM!
when you mentioned Glenn Close I thought you were going to end up serving this yummy treat over boiled bunny. Glad you made the call for sausage. — S
Love this, Greg, especially the addition of 5 spice, nice!
(a) love that you used the word bramble. It reminds me of Peter Rabbit and being 5 years old…and that’s all sorts of awesome.
(b) I think you’ve just discovered the only way to get me to eat ketchup without gagging. Quite a feat.
I would never ever have thought of blackberries in ketchup… I’m curious to try it out!
Not sure I’m sold with using 5 Spice in blackberry ketchup. Sounds like the flavors will clash. But then again, who am I to say that. I don’t even remember the five spices in 5 Spice. Love the color though!
Five spice is typically ground Szechwan pepper, ground star anise, ground fennel seeds, ground cloves and ground cinnamon. All these flavors highlight the sweet really well. I also added red pepper to bring the heat up and the vinegar to give it the appropriate bite and to keep this from being too Christmasy sweet. this helps it work well with grilled or roasted meat to my palate. GREG
I can so get behind this kind of ketchup. I made rhubarb ketchup last year, some of which I still have and I love. I bet if I could gather together enough blackberries, this would be something I’d love too…
Just got back from Costco with 2 (18 ounce) containers of, none other than, blackberries. I’m all over this.
You out did me again. I did about 7 blackberry recipes this summer with more to come but blackberry ketchup is creatively clever. Would be great with pulled pork, even lamb, goat cheese, grilled cheese, turkey sandwiches, tacos, you name it, I eat it.
I love this! I have been making a version of blackberry ketchup via Lee Bailey for years, now I must try this one. Who loves ketchup?
Bijouxs.
Just this morning I was googling and trying to find a recipe for blackberry ketchup that I could process in jars and give away as gifts over the holidays..I know thinking of the holidays already!
Brilliant idea, I say.. would go so well so many pork dishes!!:))
I’m sure you knew this already — but early recipes for ketchup didn’t even use tomatoes. I have a cookbook (reprint, of course) from 1763 that has all sorts of ketchup recipes… the common theme being the vinegar and spices, not tomatoes. The first tomato ketchup wasn’t until 1824.
Good one, Greg. I could totally get behind this ketchup and I think your pairing with garlic sausage was right on.