At some point I vowed not to buy more random baking pans that might or might not get used, ever. My collection already includes the popsicle-shaped cake pan I asked for for my birthday in high school (what a cool teenager I was!) and snowflake molds my thoughtful friends gave me for Christmas a couple years ago.
But then one day on the baking aisle a.k.a. my fantasy land at Hobby Lobby, a Whoopie Pie pan screamed: "Buy me! Make pretty treats with me, and fill them with Buttercream Icing!"
Fast forward several months: I still have not made Whoopie Pies with aforementioned impulse buy. But I did have a revelation mid-what-to-do-with-speckled-bananas-this-time brainstorming: muffin tops!
So semi-healthy breakfast treats with lots of surface area for slightly sugary but mostly oat-y treat topping were born. And that would not have been possible without that whoopie pie-turned versatile tool in my ever-growing kit(chen).
Random thought: Why do I so tend start like every sentence with a conjunction? Must be the elementary grammar rebellion I have repressed for nearly 20 years kicking in.