B's Banana Bread

It's been a while since I made B's banana bread; bananas never sit around the house long enough nowadays to be pressed into bread. But when B and I lived together, she used to make them regularly. The breads never sat around long enough either.

B made excellent banana bread. The magic, she said, was in that one recipe she stuck to. I can't remember if the recipe originated from her mom or from a random internet search. But I wouldn't be surprised if it was handed down - Mommy A makes pies that are to die for - nor would I be surprised if B inherited that baking gene as well.

B hardly cooked. In our three years living together, I can count on one hand the number of times she boiled pasta. My other limbs are split evenly among the times she microwaved a hastily put together quesadilla, leftovers from the order she called in the night before, and frozen pizzas. Oh the frozen pizzas. Most of the time however, she'd “forget” to eat. Her eating habits were appalling, if any. (To be fair, her frequent panic attacks did leave her little time to think about food.) Occasionally she would notice the shrivelled brown-black bananas among her expired groceries and set to bake them into bread.

B bakes her bread in a very systematic but relaxed manner. Watching her and what she consistently churns out, you can't help wondering if she'd been baking all her life, all the time. She sits always one leg up, in her pyjama pants, parked at the table equidistant from the kitchen and the television (ours was a very small apartment). *Cradled between her arm and knee would be a big metal bowl with a whisk. On the table would be another bowl with the peeled bananas, laid out with the other ingredients and the recipe. First she mixes the butter, sugar and honey in the metal bowl. She beats it until it turns pale. Then she turns her attention to the bowl of bananas, pressing them determinedly into mush, while keeping her eyes on the television and fulfilling her end of our conversation. Once satisfied with the barely lumpy consistency of the bananas, she cracks the eggs into the first mixture, beats a little fluff into it, and then mixes in the bananas. The dry ingredients go next - unsifted unless it was packaged otherwise - and are blended into a thick batter. Only after she has achieved all these, would she butter the pan. But she never forgets to prep the oven, at least never for too long after she's begun making the batter.

Her bread always turns out the same way - dense and moist; the outside the colour of molasses, the inside a dark golden yellow evenly speckled with delicate strands of fibre and dusts of cinnamon and nutmeg. The many times I've tried to recreate the bread, I've only managed to achieve this effect once. Perhaps it's the relaxed and methodical way she bakes, or maybe the ability is indeed genetic (my mom hardly bakes, but she makes a mean meal, and I've been told I do too). It could also very well be her habit of “waiting” until the bananas turn an unappetizing shade of black, or her unwavering faith in the recipe - of which I can never resist adding a dab of vanilla essence and a heaping handful of chopped dark chocolate. She mentioned before, that letting the bread sit after it has cooled would allow the flavours to properly sink in, resulting in a more complex taste. But she said that more in passing than in conviction; B herself would digest a couple slices early on, and forget about the bread for most of its later life.

B's banana bread is harder to come by these days, her being halfway around the globe, and bananas being rarely forgotten to the shade of black. The rare attempts to bake her bread also usually result in unsuccessful copies - the latest one turned out lighter in colour and body. Part of my difficulty in recreating her recipe, I find, is that her recipe, an American recipe, is very general. It asks for simply “brown sugar” and “honey”, an instruction that causes more agony than necessary to the British shopper. Because of that, my bread will always be a couple of shades off and a noticeable pack of grams-per-centimeter-cube short, until I get the right combination. Perhaps that's why it is destined to be B's Banana Bread, not mine. Now about why it's a "Bread" and not a "Cake", I cannot for the life of me tell you.

B's banana bread*
Makes 1 medium-sized loaf
Prep time: 15 to 20 mins
Bake time: 1 hr

• 1/2 stick (approx 57g) butter, softened
• 1/2 cup (110g) brown sugar
• 1/2 cup (170g) honey
• 2 eggs
• 3 ripe bananas
• 1.5 cups (360g) plain flour
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp salt
• nutmeg & cinnamon to taste

*Preheat oven to 180 deg Celsius. The method of preparation is described in the story.

Celine's take on B's Banana Bread, British style**

Makes 20 20g cubes (like in the pictures)
Prep time: 15 to 20 mins
Bake time: 55 mins

• 60g butter, softened
• 110g light brown muscavado sugar
• 170g light acacia honey
• 2 medium eggs
• 3 ripe bananas
• 1/2 tsp vanilla essence
• 360g plain wholemeal flour
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp salt
• nutmeg & cinnamon to taste
• 100g chocolate, roughly chopped

**Preheat oven to 180 deg Celsius. Follow B's method of preparation, but add the vanilla essence in with the bananas, and fold the chocolate in at the end.


This post is taking part in Not Quite Nigella's Banana Bread Bakeofff. Click to read more!

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril 2008

Bookmark this post:

Technorati Tags: food, food blog, blackcealt, black salt, black.salt, black salt blog, recipe, banana bread, banana bread recipe, American banana bread, British banana bread, American banana bread recipe, British banana bread recipe, banana, banana recipe, old bananas, old banana recipe, black bananas, black banana recipe, blackened bananas, blackened bananas recipe, banana cake, dense banana cake