Cranberry Walnut Bread

Heat advisory Tuesday. The AC ran all day. Three days of counseling at the middle school in East Point. The work was the work.

Daddy in his apartment in the back. I brought him his coffee and his medication this morning. He grumbled. The grumble was the love. I caught the smell of Mama's seasoning blend at the stove Tuesday morning. Just for a second. The grief comes when it comes.

Corn on the cob in butter. The standard.

Marcus, 21, studying for finals at Alabama. Jasmine, 19, home from Howard for the weekend.

The kitchen smells like greens. The greens smell like home.

I went to the cemetery Saturday morning. Brenda's grave is on the hill at South-View. Curtis still goes most Sundays. I left a small bouquet of magnolias.

Darnell sent a photo from Clarksville. The garden is producing. He grew tomatoes the size of softballs. I sent him back a photo of my sweet potato casserole. We are competitive about food now in our middle age.

Sunday service at New Birth this morning. The choir sang. I sang soprano in the second alto row. Pastor preached about Naomi and Ruth. The congregation said amen. I said amen.

The kids were home for the weekend. The house was loud the way it should be.

Daddy sat in his chair after dinner watching the news. He fell asleep before the third quarter. Standard.

Saturday morning I had Set the Table at the Cascade Heights center. Twelve young women. We did baked chicken. One of them — Imani, sixteen — was so afraid of seasoning that she barely shook the salt. I stood next to her and put my hand over hers and said, baby, you cannot be afraid of food. We seasoned the chicken. The chicken came out right. She glowed.

Andre called from LA. He told the Kevin Hart story again. Twenty-some years and that boy is still telling that story. Everyone in this family is going to hear about Kevin Hart at our funerals.

Pastor preached about the prodigal son again. He preaches about that boy at least three times a year. The text is the text but every preaching is different. I cried in the second service this time. Don't ask me why.

Miss Ernestine called Tuesday. She's ninety-something and sharp as ever. She told me my potato salad still needs more mustard.

I read for an hour Sunday night before bed. Some novel about a Black woman in 1960s Alabama. Mama would have liked it.

Derek and I had date night Friday. Same restaurant, same booth, same enchiladas for me and carne asada for him.

Wednesday Bible study at the church. We read through Proverbs. The women in my row argued about whether wisdom is built or born. I said both. They agreed, sort of.

I made a casserole for the church potluck. The pan came back empty. That is the only review I trust.

I drove to the Walmart on Camp Creek Saturday morning. The kind of grocery run that takes two hours because you run into three people you know. Sister Patrice caught me in the produce. We talked about her grandbaby for fifteen minutes.

The neighbors had a Friday cookout this week. I brought my mac and cheese. They have come to expect this. I have come to expect this. The block is the block.

The blood pressure check was Wednesday. The numbers were borderline. The doctor wants me to walk more. I am walking more.

Tuesday evening I sat at the kitchen table with my composition notebook and worked on the cookbook. From Brenda's Kitchen — that's the working title. I cannot write the introduction without crying yet.

I’ve been thinking about the cookbook — From Brenda’s Kitchen — and what the anchor recipes should be, the ones that feel like a whole season in a single bite. Corn on the cob is Mama’s summer. But Thanksgiving-mode means something with cranberries, something that smells like the oven running all day while the house fills up slow. This cranberry walnut bread is the kind of thing you slice while the greens are still on the stove, the kind you wrap in foil and carry to a table where someone is always already eating. Jasmine was home. The house was loud the way it should be. This bread belongs to that.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 60 min | Total Time: 1 hr 15 min | Servings: 10 slices

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup granulated sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup fresh orange juice
1 tablespoon orange zest
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 large egg, lightly beaten
1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries, roughly chopped
3/4 cup walnuts, toasted and coarsely chopped

Instructions

Preheat and prepare. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x5-inch loaf pan and lightly flour it, tapping out any excess.
Combine dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt until evenly blended.
Mix wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, stir together the orange juice, orange zest, melted butter, and egg until well combined.
Bring it together. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently until just combined — do not overmix. A few lumps are fine and expected.
Fold in cranberries and walnuts. Using a rubber spatula, fold in the chopped cranberries and toasted walnuts until distributed throughout the batter.
Fill and bake. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan and spread evenly. Bake for 55 to 65 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the top is deep golden brown.
Cool before slicing. Allow the bread to cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack to cool completely before slicing. This helps the crumb set so it slices clean.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cranberry Walnut Bread — The Kind of Loaf That Belongs on Every Holiday Table