Happy Friday! Time for another Royals Recipe!
With our special house guest, we had already feasted on the delicious Nu-Joe Special. We were on the hunt for a can't-miss dessert when we got to the page for outfielder Al Cowens. His wife Velma submitted a recipe for one of my favorites, Banana Pudding.
There was no way this could go wrong:
Al Cowens is another of those late-70s Royals that fans remember fondly. He wasn't too good in his first full year as a starter in 1976, but in 1977 A.C. was one of the best offensive and defensive players in all of baseball, placing second in the AL MVP voting. Basically, he had turned into a superstar.
Unfortunately, Royals fans know where this story goes. In 1978, he had a lackluster follow-up. Then, in May of 1979, Texas Rangers pitcher Ed Farmer nailed Cowens in the face with a fastball and broke his jaw. Earlier in the game, Farmer had broken Frank White's wrist on an inside pitch. White rebounded from the injury and had a good career, but A.C. was never again the same ballplayer. He lost several teeth and had to have his jaw wired shut, but Cowens's biggest injury was to his pride.
A year later as a Detroit Tiger, A.C. slapped a grounder against Ed Farmer (now with the White Sox), but instead of running to first, he sprinted to the mound and attacked the pitcher. Farmer was watching the ball and unaware Cowens was bearing down on him, but the fight didn't last long and the pitcher ended up with just a scrape on his nose. However, in an unprecedented move, Farmer filed criminal charges against Cowens for assault. The charges were later dropped, but A.C. was branded a coward by many fans and members of the media.
Cowens's career continued to decline and he was out of baseball by 1986. His health weakened after he left baseball, and he died of a heart attack in 2002.
Ed Farmer, shithead that he is, is alive and well, doing play-by-play for the White Sox on radio.
All of which is very, very depressing.
And now I am very, very depressed.
But you know what always cheers me up?
Here are your ingredients:
And here are some sick photos of the process:
We preheated the oven to 425 degrees and then popped the pudding in to brown.
I feel like the last six words of the previous sentence are the most disgusting thing I've ever written in my life, and I'm not even sure why.
Anywho, ten minutes later, we pulled out the brown pudding.
Correction, that phrase sounds even more disgusting.
Which is fine, I guess, because the pudding looked disgusting:
And it tasted disgusting, too.
It was nothing like pudding. It tasted like bland, soggy eggs, which is basically what it was. There was hardly any banana taste and nothing really sweet about it. My wife and sister-in-law were very concerned about the clear puddle of liquid that formed around the fluffy paste on the plate.
I was, in a word, pissed.
I love banana pudding.
This was an abomination.
And to think, we went to all that trouble separating egg yolks and cutting up bananas when we could have just made this:
And it would have been AMAZING.
Care to defend this recipe, outfelder/tragic figure Al Cowens?
Go to Hell, Egg Whites! You Don't Belong On Pudding!