Bananas are my bête noire. I do not refer to those plump golden crescents laden atop the Chiquita lady as she sways to Harry Belafonte crooning Day-O. My specimen is quite literally translated from the French for “black beast”. One day they are the palest yellow tinged with green, full of promise of Vitamin C, potassium and comestible fiber. The next instant, they have cooperatively acquired, in an ethylene-driven frenzy of ripening, more black spots than a cheetah.
Belatedly, I sneak them into PB & J sandwiches and smuggle them into brown bags. Too late. The brown bagged banana returns from the office to join its blackened brethren emanating reproachful notes of isoamyl ester. In desperate denial, I pretend that I planned to make banana bread all along, while stashing them in the freezer “just for now”. All is well for a year…or two. Until one day, while rummaging for something in the back of the freezer, I inadvertently triggered an avalanche of frozen black bananas. On my toes. Over the hoots of unsympathetic laughter and my howls of ignominy I swore to make the best banana bread ever. Here is the recipe:
Note: before you ask, no..I was not baking bread in 1979. It is an old diary co-opted into a recipe book. Judging by the neatness of my penmanship, I probably wrote it down in the late ’80’s. That’s pretty old too, I know.
As always, gather all the ingredients and preheat the oven.
Cream together the butter and sugar.
Separately mix the dry ingredients and the wet. Does not look appetizing at this point.
Fold them together, gently. Do not over mix. Pour into an oiled baking pan.
Note: Every respectable cook has a sous chef who will fetch stuff from the fridge, stir the batter and lick the bowl. This could be your offspring, significant other or unsuspecting guest. Put them to work. If they lounge around guzzling beer and making unhelpful comments, demote (usually, him) to dishwasher duty.
Banana bread with walnuts.
How could THIS once have been the bane of my existence?