Pineapple Zucchini Bread

The watermelon is growing. I repeat: the watermelon is growing. After six years of failure, six seasons of wilted vines and stunted fruit and the slow humiliation of a woman who can cook anything but apparently cannot grow a melon, the watermelon is GROWING. It has vines. It has flowers. It has — and I had to kneel down and verify this with my own eyes and both hands — a small, green, unmistakable watermelon forming on the vine.

I told Mrs. Lucille at church. She said, "Did you talk to it?" I said, "Mrs. Lucille, I have been talking to that watermelon every morning like it owes me money." She laughed. She said, "See? They listen." They listen. A watermelon listened to a sixty-nine-year-old woman with a titanium knee and a stubborn disposition, and it decided to grow. I am taking this as evidence that persistence works, that talking to plants works, and that the universe rewards people who refuse to quit, even when the thing they refuse to quit on is a fruit.

The rest of the garden is doing well too. Cherokee Purples are flowering. Sapelo peppers are setting fruit. Okra is doing its okra thing, which is growing at an alarming rate and demanding daily attention. The butter beans are climbing their trellis. The herbs smell like summer. The garden is alive in the way that April gardens in Savannah are alive — urgently, joyfully, with the full knowledge that the heat is coming and the growing will intensify and the harvesting will begin and the food will arrive.

Kayla is fourteen weeks now. The morning sickness has passed — or "morning" sickness, she calls it, because it came at two p.m. and seven p.m. and midnight and any time it felt like being inconvenient, which is a trait the baby clearly inherited from the Henderson side of the family. She's starting to show. Just a little. A softening around the middle that could be a baby or could be the three helpings of mac and cheese she ate at Sunday dinner. I said nothing. You don't comment on a pregnant woman's body. You feed her and you keep your observations to yourself. That is the law.

Made fried okra tonight. First of the season. Crispy, tender, cornmeal-crusted. Eaten standing at the counter because the first okra of the season doesn't wait for a plate or a table or manners. It waits for nothing. It is okra. It is here. It is now.

Now go on and feed somebody.

The okra was first, and the okra was urgent, and the okra did not wait — but the garden doesn’t stop at okra. When things get going in April, everything comes in together, and the zucchini always seems to appear right behind whatever you thought you’d be dealing with. This pineapple zucchini bread is what I reach for when the garden is being generous and I need something sweet to balance all that frying — something I can slice and leave on the counter for Kayla to find, because a pregnant woman who just survived months of round-the-clock sickness deserves something soft and golden waiting for her without being asked.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Servings: 16 slices (two 9x5 loaves)

Ingredients

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
3 large eggs
1 cup vegetable oil
2 cups granulated sugar
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
2 cups shredded zucchini (about 2 medium), excess moisture squeezed out
1 can (8 oz) crushed pineapple, well drained

Instructions

Preheat and prepare. Heat oven to 325°F. Grease and flour two 9x5-inch loaf pans and set aside.
Mix dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg until evenly combined.
Mix wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, beat eggs until frothy, then whisk in oil, sugar, and vanilla until the mixture is smooth and pale, about 1 minute.
Combine. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently until just incorporated — do not overmix or the loaves will be tough.
Fold in zucchini and pineapple. Add the shredded zucchini and drained pineapple to the batter and fold in with a spatula until evenly distributed throughout.
Fill and bake. Divide the batter evenly between the two prepared loaf pans. Bake at 325°F for 50 to 60 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the tops are deep golden brown.
Cool before slicing. Let the loaves cool in the pans for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack. Allow to cool at least 20 minutes before slicing — or as long as you can manage.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pineapple Zucchini Bread — When the Garden Keeps on Giving