GO BANANAS! By Susan Quick, Broadway Books, New York, 2000, 193 pages, $16.

Theoretically, I like bananas. Where so many other fruits leave me hollow after zesting past my palate, bananas have a body and a pasty comfort that satisfyingly centers in the stomach.

Then there’s the convenience. Spitting and slurping and tacky fingers are for the rest of the fruits. Bananas are the original fast and friendly snack food: Nature’s ready-wrapped candy bar.

And let’s not even mention the erotic aspects of a fruit that can so seductively shed its skin, a skin that just gives the right amount of resistance as its skin peels back, the body of the fruit peeking out.

Anyway, that’s the theory. But Saturday’s fresh sunny fruit sits forlornly in its bowl until Thursday, having failed to make the cut for Sunday’s curry, Monday’s snack, Tuesday’s dessert, or a whole bunch of breakfasts.

By the following Saturday, its possibilities have diminished greatly, to potential milkshake or compost component. And it seems to know its best days are behind as it glowers at me in a mottled sulk. I normally let my wife put it out of its misery, too cowardly to admit that I failed it, just as I fail its brethren on an almost weekly basis.

I offer no excuses. It’s not like the banana is a nonversatile item, happy alongside fish, meat, confections or dairy products. It is happy to add zip to grains or to temper chiles. I just somehow seem to forget what a bowed gem I have lurking in the fruit bowl.

Fortunately, Susan Quick, food editor of “Real Simple” magazine, has gone to bat for the banana, with a collection of 150 recipes starring bananas, plantains and other curved comestibles.

Zipping around the globe, but definitely dawdling in Asia and the Caribbean, “Go Bananas” should change the way you think of the fruit (actually the berry of the banana plant, which is the world’s largest herb.) Bananas for breakfast, for lunch, for dinner. Bananas to entertain (settle down at the back there), banana salads and banana smoothies. If the range of recipes doesn’t pique your interest, the short banana-based tales scattered through the book may.

So, how’d the recipes taste? I put my chef’s hat on, and gave my poor plantains and beleaguered bananas a day out of the fruit bowl.

It’s pretty hard to mess up grilled shrimp, so Grilled Shrimp with Banana-Caper Relish seemed like a fairly safe bet. On a rare warm afternoon, the tropical connotations of a banana and shrimp combination were just perfect. The dish, however was not.

The marinade for the shrimp was fine, slightly caramelizing over the hot coals, adding a delicate, crisp texture to the crustaceans. It seemed a zesty relish would provide the perfect counterpoint.

My mistake could have been in my expectations of the relish, or may have been in its execution. Regardless, what I ended up with exhibited many of the worst aspects of the fruit. It lacked zing, zip and all those other “z” words that I look for when spooning out a relish, instead yielding center stage to the blander aspects of bananas. Its texture was stolid and the capers failed to cut through what was nearly a wall of stodge: a shame.

If the Banana-Caper Relish disappointed, the Banana Souffles with Rum Cream dazzled, although not for the faint hearted, nor indeed for anyone with a heart condition of any description. Despite relistic expectations, the dessert amazed, coming from the oven bursting from its ramekins, sporting a crisp brown crust, which cracked like a frosted puddle as the cream was dropped in.

This dish highlighted the best of both soufflees and bananas. As insubstantial as a breath of fresh air, the dessert almost fizzed in the mouth, layering the tongue with an exquisite smooth banana echo, framed by the rummed cream. And then the taste just drifted gently away, leaving only the desire to dig the spoon back into the bowl. An absolute winner.

On the other hand, insubstantial was not a word one might associate with our third dish: Maduros.

Apparently a firm staple of Central American cooking, these deep-fried delicacies were so dense as to almost form a singularity in the stomach. Coupled, as suggested, with rice and beans, I was almost forced to flee from the table for fear of my increased gravitational field sucking in the cutlery.

Nevertheless, they were a perfect component of a meal that could almost be the definition of ethnic comfort food: Broad in flavor, highlighted with the slight sharpness of the salt. And when I’m done with that meal, ooooh, say in a few more months, I may try them again.

Grilled Ginger Shrimp with Banana Caper Relish

1/4 cup apricot preserves

1 tablespoon finely minced gingerroot

1 tablespoon soy sauce

3 tablespoons rice wine vinegar

1 tablespoon extra-hot habanero or other Caribbean-style pepper sauce

11/2 pounds large shrimp, shelled and deveined

Banana Caper Relish (recipe below)

6 to 8 long wooden or metal skewers

Lime wedges

Combine the preserves, gingerroot, soy sauce, vinegar and 1/4 cup water in a small saucepan. Bring to the boil, then lower the heat and simmer the mixture, stirring occasionally for 5 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in the habanero sauce; allow to cool to room temperature.

Place the shrimp in a bowl and pour the cooled marinade over them. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 2 hours or overnight. Just before grilling the shrimp, make the relish and set it aside. If using wooden skewers, soak them in water for 30 minutes. Preheat the grill or broiler to medium high. Thread 4 to 5 shrimp on each skewer. Grill or broil shrimpabout 2 minutes per side, or until shrimp turn pink and are cooked through. Arrange on plates with the relish, lime wedges, and rice if desired.

Banana Caper Relish

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 medium red onion, thinly sliced

3 cloves garlic, minced

4 firm-ripe bananas, quartered lengthwise and diced

1/4 cup drained capers

2 tablespoons fresh lime juice

1 tablespoon rice wine vinegar

Salt

Freshly milled black pepper

2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley

Heat the oil in a large skillet over a medium heat and cook the onion and garlic until soft. Add the bananas, capers, lime juice, and vinegar and cook 2 to 3 minutes until bananas are just heated through.

Remove from the heat and season to taste with salt and pepper. Stir in the parsley and keep relish warm until serving.

Banana Souffles with Rum Cream

2 ripe bananas, sliced

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon banana liqueur, optional

1/4 cup packed dark brown sugar

Salt

4 large eggs, separated

1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1/2 cup heavy cream

1 tablespoon confectioners’ sugar

1 tablespoon dark rum

Butter four 1-cup souffle dishes and lightly sprinkle the bottom and sides with granulated sugar.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

To make the souffles: Combine the banana, lemon juice, liqueur, brown sugar, and a pinch of salt in a large bowl. Mash ingredients with a potato masher or fork until the sugar is dissolved. Add the yolks and beat in to combine.

Place the egg whites, cream of tartar and a pinch of salt in a medium bowl and beat with an electric mixer until they form medium peaks. Gradually add the granulated sugar and continue beating until the egg whites hold stiff peaks. Stir a little of the egg whites into the banana mixture to lighten it. Gently fold in the remaining whites until thoroughly blended. Divide the souffle mixture evenly among the prepared dishes and place them on a large baking sheet. Bake about 20 minutes, or until the souffles are puffed and lightly golden on top.

To make the rum cream: Whip the cream with the confectioners’ sugar into stiff peaks. Beat in the rum. Just before serving, crack the souffle tops with a large spoon and ladle a few spoonfuls of the whipped cream inside them.

Maduros

Vegetable oil for frying

3 ripe, yellow- to black-skinned plantains

Kosher salt

In an electric skillet, deep fryer, or a large pot with a thermometer attached, heat 11/2 inches of oil to 375 degrees F.

With a sharp knife, trim the ends from the plantains, and cut them in half crosswise. Cut a shallow slit through the skin inside the curve of each piece. Pry the skin away from the plantain with your fingers.

Cut the plantains into long diagonal slices about 1/2 inch thick. Fry in batches for 3 to 4 minutes, turning once, until plantains are golden. Using a slotted spoon or spatula, transfer to paper towels to drain briefly before salting. Maduros are best served immediately, with beans and rice if desired.

To reheat Maduros, place on a baking sheet in a 350 degree Fahrenheit oven, about 5 minutes or until heated through.