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Banana Bread for Two — The Quiet Bake After the Big Room

December. Fruitcakes started the first, tenth year in a row. Ten years of starting them on December first. Bernice started hers in November because she liked them more aged, but I have always been a December person and a December fruitcake has always been the right fruitcake for me. The ritual is complete in its own way: the bourbon, the dried fruit, the dark smell that means the season has officially arrived, the second shelf of the pantry occupied by their quiet aging. Ten years. I stand at the pantry door every December first and I think of her.

The December extended Bernice's Table services began Tuesday with seventy-two people, which is a new absolute record. Deontay ran the kitchen. I served the line alongside Vivienne and a new young woman named Rosa who came through the Saturday class and has been coming to Tuesdays since October. The energy in the room was what a room feels like when it knows what it is doing and why — purposeful, warm, unhurried in the right way. I was in the kitchen for three hours and did not once feel like the main person in the room, which is a sign that everything is working correctly.

Five weeks to my fifty-fifth birthday. I am going to stop noting this particular milestone the way I have been — fifty-five is not a surprise, it is just the next one — and simply receive it with the gratitude and the cornbread and the birthday cake and the people I love. That is all any birthday deserves. That is all any birthday needs.

The fruitcakes are doing their patient work on the second shelf, and the Bernice’s Table kitchen gave everything it had on Tuesday — seventy-two people, Deontay at the helm, Rosa finding her footing on the line. When I got home that evening I wanted something small and unhurried, something I could make just for myself and not for a room. Banana Bread for Two is exactly that: a loaf that asks nothing of you except that you be present, which after a night like that is the only thing left to give.

Banana Bread for Two

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

  • 2 very ripe medium bananas, mashed
  • 1 large egg
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled
  • 3 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/4 teaspoon fine salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • Optional: 2 tablespoons chopped walnuts or chocolate chips

Instructions

  1. Preheat and prep. Heat oven to 350°F. Grease two small (6-ounce) ramekins or a small 5x3-inch mini loaf pan with butter or nonstick spray and set aside.
  2. Mix the wet ingredients. In a medium bowl, mash the bananas thoroughly with a fork until nearly smooth. Whisk in the egg, melted butter, sugar, and vanilla until well combined.
  3. Add the dry ingredients. Sprinkle the flour, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon over the banana mixture. Stir gently with a spatula until just combined — a few small lumps are fine. Do not overmix. Fold in walnuts or chocolate chips if using.
  4. Fill and bake. Divide the batter evenly between the prepared ramekins or spoon into the mini loaf pan. Bake for 28 to 32 minutes, until the tops are deep golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
  5. Cool slightly and serve. Let cool in the ramekins for 5 minutes before turning out. Serve warm with a little butter, or let cool completely on a wire rack. Best eaten the same day, though it keeps tightly wrapped at room temperature for one day.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 64g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 380mg

Loretta Simms
About the cook who shared this
Loretta Simms
Week 454 of Loretta’s 30-year story · Birmingham, Alabama
Loretta is a fifty-six-year-old pastor's wife in Birmingham, Alabama, who has been feeding her church and her community for thirty-four years. She lost her teenage son Jeremiah in a car accident, and she cooked through the grief because that is what Loretta does — she feeds people. Every funeral, every homecoming, every Wednesday night supper. If you are hurting, Loretta will show up at your door with a casserole and she will not leave until you eat.

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