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Cinnamon Sugar Banana Streusel Bread — The Kind of Baking That Fills a December House

December has arrived and the Forestdale house is dressed for Christmas. Calvin put up the lights on the outside — white lights only, because I do not believe in colored lights on a house, the same way I do not believe in colored tablecloths at church dinners — and Marcus helped him with the ladder while I stood at the window making sure nobody fell, because falling off a ladder two weeks before Christmas is the kind of thing that happens to families who are not supervised, and the Simms family is supervised by me.

The inside decorations are my domain. The tree went up Sunday afternoon, a real one from the lot on Bessemer Road, a Fraser fir that smells like a forest walked into the living room and decided to stay. I have the same ornaments I have had since CJ was a baby — handmade ones, school project ones, the ceramic angel that Mama gave me in 1995 that has a chip on its wing but is not leaving this tree until I leave this earth. Marcus hung the star on top because he is the tallest and because it has been his job since he was big enough to reach, and the handing over of the star to the youngest child is a Simms tradition that I guard the way I guard my recipes: fiercely and without apology.

The Christmas baking has begun. I started with pound cake on Monday because pound cake keeps and because it is the foundation of my Christmas dessert table the way the foundation is the foundation of a house — everything else sits on top of it. My pound cake is Mama's pound cake: butter, sugar, eggs, flour, vanilla, a touch of almond extract, and the patience to cream the butter and sugar for a full ten minutes, which most people skip and which is why most people's pound cake is inferior to mine. I say this without arrogance. I say this because Mama taught me and Mama was right and there is no false modesty in honoring what your mother gave you.

Made a big pot of chili for the Wednesday night Bible study supper because December suppers should be warming and hearty and nobody wants a salad in December. Nobody. I added extra beans this time — pinto, kidney, and black — because beans in chili is the hill I will die on, and the Texas people who say otherwise can keep their opinions and their beanless chili and their state that is too big for its own good.

Calvin is working on his Christmas Eve sermon, which means the study door is closed and the coffee consumption has tripled and I hear him talking to himself in there, which is not talking to himself, it is preaching to an empty room, which is how he practices. I have lived with this man's sermons for twenty-four years. They are the soundtrack of my life. And even when I cannot hear the words, I can hear the rhythm, and the rhythm is familiar, and the familiar is its own kind of warmth in December.

The pound cake was already resting on the counter and the chili had warmed the church hall, but this Cinnamon Sugar Banana Streusel Bread is the recipe I keep coming back to when December calls for something extra — something that smells like cinnamon and brown sugar and the kind of love that goes into baking for people you’re glad to have around. It fits right alongside everything else on a Christmas dessert table, and like anything worth making, it rewards the people who don’t rush it.

Cinnamon Sugar Banana Streusel Bread

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 60 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Servings: 10 slices

Ingredients

  • For the Bread:
  • 3 ripe bananas, mashed (about 1 1/2 cups)
  • 1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted
  • 3/4 cup granulated sugar
  • 2 large eggs, room temperature
  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • For the Streusel Topping:
  • 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/4 cup granulated sugar
  • 2 tablespoons light brown sugar, packed
  • 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 3 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes

Instructions

  1. Preheat and prepare. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x5-inch loaf pan with butter or non-stick spray and set aside.
  2. Make the streusel. In a small bowl, combine the flour, granulated sugar, brown sugar, and cinnamon for the streusel. Add the cold butter cubes and use your fingertips to work the butter into the dry ingredients until the mixture resembles coarse, pea-sized crumbles. Refrigerate while you prepare the batter.
  3. Mix the wet ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the mashed bananas and melted butter until combined. Add the sugar, eggs, and vanilla extract and whisk until smooth and well incorporated.
  4. Combine dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
  5. Bring it together. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir gently with a rubber spatula just until no streaks of flour remain. Do not overmix — a few lumps are perfectly fine and will keep the bread tender.
  6. Fill and top. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan and spread it evenly. Remove the streusel from the refrigerator and scatter it generously and evenly over the top of the batter.
  7. Bake. Bake for 55 to 65 minutes, until a wooden toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean or with just a few moist crumbs. If the streusel begins to brown too quickly, tent the pan loosely with aluminum foil after 40 minutes.
  8. Cool before slicing. Allow the bread to cool in the pan for 15 minutes, then turn it out onto a wire rack and cool for at least 20 minutes more before slicing. This keeps the crumb from falling apart and the streusel intact.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 285 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 46g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 210mg

Loretta Simms
About the cook who shared this
Loretta Simms
Week 30 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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