Memories in Every Bite: Glazed Lemon Loaf

When I was a little kid I used to frequently see a loaf of banana bread sitting on the kitchen counter, just out of my grasp. To me, banana bread was like candy and I would eat the entire pan if I could only touch it. We didn't have step stools, at least not to my recognition, so I would gather as much steam as possible and try a running jump onto the counter. On the rare times it worked, my fingers would slip off the counter as quickly as they grabbed it. I was going to have to wait until I was handed a slice.

After dinner, or before if I was extremely lucky, my parents would heat a slice of the light, fluffy loaf and slather on a bit of butter and hand it to me. After a few bites I would ditch the fork for my hands. It was much quicker that way and I wasn't born with patience. I'd finish the slice before my mom was finished wrapping the loaf back up and I would stare at the few crumbs left behind on the plate. Those too were gone in a manner of seconds.
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