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Banana Beignets — The Sweet Exhale of a Life Well Earned

June, and the last days of the library arrive with the particular weight of a thirty-one-year ending. I clean out my office on a Friday — the name plate, the photograph from my first year, the Hurston first edition. The cleaning is the distilling: thirty-one years of a career reduced to a box of personal items and the knowledge that the building will continue without me and that the continuing is the point and the point was always bigger than the person.

My last day was June 28th, 2024. I drove home at four PM on a weekday for the first time in thirty-one years and I did not know what to do with myself, so I walked into the kitchen and I cooked. I made she-crab soup. At four PM on a Friday in June. The making was the beginning. The beginning was the retirement. And the retirement was the soup.

Robert met me in the kitchen. He said, "How does it feel?" I said, "Like freedom." He said, "Good. I've been free for four years. It gets better." The gets-better was the promise of a man who has been retired and who considers retirement the best decision he ever made, second only to marrying me and third only to building the desk where I will now sit every morning and write the next book.

Carrie sent flowers from Fukuoka — wildflowers, her signature. The card said: "Now write." Two words. The instruction. The permission. The imperative. Now write. And I will. Now.

The she-crab soup was the declaration — the first act, the proof that four o’clock on a Friday could belong to me now. But Robert was still in the kitchen when the soup was done, and he said, “Make something sweet,” and there were two very ripe bananas on the counter that had been waiting all week for exactly this moment. Beignets felt right: fried and golden and a little reckless, nothing you make on a Tuesday when you have to be somewhere at eight. These are a dish that says the afternoon is yours, the kitchen is yours, and Carrie was right — now write.

Banana Beignets

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 2 large ripe bananas, mashed
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1 large egg, lightly beaten
  • 1/3 cup whole milk
  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • Vegetable oil, for frying (about 2 inches deep)
  • 1/2 cup powdered sugar, for dusting

Instructions

  1. Heat the oil. Pour vegetable oil into a heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven to a depth of about 2 inches. Heat over medium-high heat until it reaches 350°F on a deep-fry thermometer. Line a plate with paper towels and set aside.
  2. Make the batter. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon. In a separate bowl, stir together the mashed bananas, egg, milk, and vanilla until well combined. Fold the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients until just incorporated — a few lumps are fine. Do not overmix.
  3. Fry in batches. Using a tablespoon or small cookie scoop, carefully drop rounded spoonfuls of batter into the hot oil, about 4 to 5 at a time. Fry for 2 to 3 minutes per side, turning once, until deep golden brown all over.
  4. Drain and dust. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the beignets to the paper towel–lined plate to drain for 1 minute. While still warm, transfer to a serving plate and dust generously with powdered sugar.
  5. Serve immediately. Beignets are best eaten warm, straight from the pot. Serve with a second dusting of powdered sugar if you feel like it — and on a day like this, you probably do.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 51g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 210mg

Naomi Blackwood
About the cook who shared this
Naomi Blackwood
Week 381 of Naomi’s 30-year story · Charleston, South Carolina
Naomi is a retired librarian from Charleston who spent thirty-one years putting books in people's hands and now spends her days putting her mother's Lowcountry recipes on paper before they're lost. She survived her husband's affair, her father's sudden death, and the long goodbye of her mother's final years. She cooks she-crab soup in a bowl that Carolyn brought from Beaufort, and in every spoonful you can taste the marsh and the memory and the grace of a woman who chose to stay and rebuild.

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