The Magic Refrigerator for Only Two Nights

"Banana cake..."

There is a reason why my husband suddenly muttered that just as the 5 o'clock chime passed by.
I had promised to make him a banana cake for his birthday, which falls in late July.

That day was the fourth day since we returned from our trip to Wakayama. It had been two days since my husband's birthday.
Since the day after we returned from our trip, we both had various plans and spent our days completely drained of energy. For us, this was the first day in a while that we could just lounge around in our familiar home.
Having eaten our fill of delicious food on the trip, we, a couple in our 30s, decided to delay eating the cake from his actual birthday to avoid indigestion. That is why the promise had not yet been kept even after his birthday had passed.

I had a plan. I had intended to bake the cake as a surprise once my husband started working at his new job in August.
Changing jobs is quite stressful. It is only natural to be tired when you spend a third of your day doing something different with people you don't know well yet.
Therefore, I had planned to secretly prepare the cake, timing it for when my husband would be working his first day at the new job, as a way to reward him for his hard work.

However, my husband, who had no way of knowing about that secret plan, seemed to have been looking forward to the requested banana cake, wondering when it would come, even while feeling guilty about asking his tired wife.
The result of that earnest excitement overflowing from his lips was that sudden, "Banana cake..."

As someone who loves my husband dearly, there was no way I could miss that murmur. When I asked, "Do you want to eat banana cake?" he nodded his head small and rhythmically.
I tried pressing him further, "You want to eat it today, don't you?" At first, he was hesitant, saying it was already evening and it would be too much trouble to make, so it didn't have to be today. But the more he heard the words "banana cake," the more he seemed to want it. In the end, he looked at me shyly and said, "Yeah..."

I am a person who cannot handle sudden changes in plans. Whether it's a sudden outing or starting a big, urgent task, I cannot move unless it has been decided at least a day in advance. I need to simulate things from the day before just to feel at ease enough to accomplish the task.
Even so, I thought, "Oh, let's make a cake." I don't know why, but seeing my husband curled up small on the futon looking apologetic, I decided I wanted to make the cake right away. Perhaps the fact that the sky visible through the window was still in that twilight state between day and evening also pushed me forward.

"Alright, let's make it!" Seeing me jump off the bed, my husband's eyes went wide with surprise. It's no wonder he was surprised, as I am the type of person who finds it a heavy lift even to decide on going to a cafe on the same day, yet I had suddenly become motivated.

Fortunately, I had most of the ingredients, so I only needed to buy two or three things. When I told him I would get the ingredients at a nearby supermarket and start right away, he said, "I'll go with you," and came along for the shopping.

I had already decided what to make. Banoffee pie. It is a sweet pie using bananas that originated in England, and the name seems to be a combination of the main ingredients, "banana" and "toffee".
I had some leftover pie crust from when I baked apple pie before, so I took it out to the table. While waiting for the pie crust to thaw, I went to the supermarket, a 10-minute round trip, to buy caramel for a simple toffee and some heavy cream. Then, I bought extra bananas. Since it's a birthday cake, I'll buy slightly more expensive bananas than usual. I believe there is no more meaningful expenditure than money spent for the sake of someone important.

When we returned home, the pie crust was just the right softness. I carefully layered the two sheets, rolled them out, and lined a 21-centimeter tart pan with them.
As I was poking holes in the pie crust with a fork, the oven sang its preheating completion tune. I don't have anything fancy like pie weights, so I used a slightly smaller gratin dish as a weight and put it in the oven. I closed the door, whispering in my heart, "I hope it bakes beautifully."

Banoffee pie is the type of pie where you bake the crust first and then add the fillings. The other things to prepare are the toffee, sliced bananas, and whipped cream.
None of these take that much time, and considering the baking time and the time to let the pie cool, I could fit in a little break. I smoked a cigarette while watching TV until the pie was baked.

Before I knew it, my husband was breathing steadily in his sleep on the bed. As I listened to the rhythmic snoring, the scent of the baking pie began to drift through the air.
Humans really do make a "snoring" sound when they are asleep, I thought. Or, wrapped in the happy scent of butter spreading throughout the room, he will surely wake up with a big smile on his face. As I was thinking this, the timer sounded in an instant.

When I opened the oven, a wave of heat and an incredibly savory aroma hit my face.
It seems the weight did its job properly, as the pie didn't puff up too much and kept its shape beautifully. There were no signs of burning, so I felt relieved.
This time, I removed the weight and baked it for an additional 10 minutes so that the part covered by the weight wouldn't be undercooked.

After baking for exactly 10 minutes more, the second timer went off.
I opened the oven and let the pie crust cool while venting the heat. Seeing the pie shining in a beautiful golden brown, my mood gradually lifted.
While waiting for the pie to cool, I measured the caramel to make a simple version of toffee and cut the bananas for the topping. Once the tart pan was cool enough to touch, I removed the pie and made the whipped cream.

As I was whipping the cream, my husband woke up, saying, "It's been smelling so good for a while!" He had the soft, sleepy smile I had imagined, which made me feel happy too. When I told him, "It'll be ready in a little bit, so wait for me," he bounced on the bed, saying, "I'm so excited!"

I poured the toffee into the thoroughly cooled pie crust. On top of that, I layered plenty of sliced bananas in a mountain shape.
I coated the mountain of bananas with whipped cream to cover it, and surrounded the base with the remaining banana slices.
Finally, I sprinkled coffee powder on the summit, and the banoffee pie was complete.

"It's done!"

For a first attempt, the level of perfection was quite high, and before I knew it, I was the one getting excited. I carefully approached my husband to show him the freshly made pie.

"Whoa, amazing!! Wait, you made this!? Isn't this from a shop!?"
Seeing my husband react with even more joy than I had imagined, I felt very proud.
My husband said, "I'm going to take a picture!" and with a level of caution that was the complete opposite of his excitement, he gently took the pie from me and started a photo session at the dining table.

After we both raved about how beautifully it turned out and how delicious it looked, we cleared a space in the refrigerator and put the cake away. I believe banoffee pie is meant to be eaten chilled.
We started eating dinner right after that, but it goes without saying that the conversation at the table was completely taken over by the pie, with us saying, "I want to eat the pie soon, I'm looking forward to it."
Even I, the one who made it, was so happy that every time I went to the refrigerator to get a drink, I would rave about it, saying things like, "Hey! Our fridge has a whole pie in it right now!"

And so, the long-awaited dessert time arrived. I poured hot water over the tea leaves in the teapot and cut the pie into six equal pieces. I gently placed the piece with the most beautiful shape onto my husband's plate and served it with tea. After all, tea is the best accompaniment for pie.

"Eat, eat!"

My husband was fidgeting because he wanted to eat it quickly, and I was fidgeting because I wanted to hear his reaction as soon as possible. As a result, while I was portioning out my own piece of pie, I urged my husband, who was already seated, to start eating first.

"Oh, it's sooooo good!!!!"
A cheer went up from my husband after just one bite. He said things like, "Are we really allowed to eat pie this good at home!?" while eating it little by little as if it were precious. Watching him, I also took a bite to see what it was like.
"Oh, it's sooooo good!!!!"

It was a huge success. The rich sweetness of the toffee and the milky sweetness of the high-quality bananas. The flaky butter pie crust that enveloped those melting flavors. While thinking that the calorie count must be insane, I realized I had created a sinful pie cake that I felt I could eat forever.

My husband, who I thought was eating it little by little, eventually couldn't hold back and started gobbling it up, and by the time I had finished half of my own piece, his plate was already empty. When I tempted him by saying, "What should we do... there are still four pieces of pie in the fridge...", he replied, "I'll have seconds!" and dove into a second piece. In the end, he polished off a third of the whole thing in one night.

We had plans to go out the next day as well, and there were moments when we felt exhausted by the crowds and the humid summer heat. However, at those times, we would whisper to each other: "There's still half a pie left in our fridge...!"

It was like a promised victory. When we got home, there would be Banoffee pie. We would imagine the inside of the refrigerator and smile at each other, saying, "Hehehe." Just having a homemade cake at home makes you feel happy.

In the end, the Banoffee pie meant to celebrate my husband's birthday became a Banoffee pie that celebrated our daily happiness. And that night, my husband easily polished off two more pieces, and the time the pie spent in our refrigerator was only two nights.

Even so, just the simple fact that there was cake in the refrigerator made us spend those two nights feeling indescribably lighthearted. Surely, no matter how many years pass, our home refrigerator will be under the spell of those two nights of happiness. And every time that happens, I want my husband to be right next to me, stuffing his mouth with homemade cake. As I watch his happy profile, I secretly whisper to myself, "Thank you for being born."