Walnut-Date Quick Bread

December. The third December on this blog. The first without Clay making the candy disappear overnight. I'm making candy anyway — Betty's production line: fudge, peanut brittle (I've got it now), sorghum cookies, bourbon balls. The candy sits in tins on the counter and lasts longer than it used to because there's no teenage locust to consume it, and the lasting feels wrong, like a sentence that goes on too long when it should have ended.

I shipped a tin to Clay at Fort Benning. Fudge, brittle, sorghum cookies, and a piece of cornbread wrapped in foil because I'm irrational and love makes you irrational and cornbread shipped through the U.S. Postal Service is the irrational act of a father who doesn't know what else to do. Clay will either get the tin or the Army will confiscate it for deliciousness-related security concerns. Either way, the tin was packed with love and packing tape and the specific hope that Betty's fudge can cross state lines without losing its integrity.

Betty called to coordinate her candy shipments. She's making tins for all six children, same as every year, from the same kitchen, with the same recipes, despite vision that now requires a magnifying glass for the candy thermometer. Dale offered to help. Betty said "I don't need help. I need a bigger pot." That's Betty. Seventy-eight years old, legally blind in one eye, and she doesn't need help — she needs a bigger pot. The woman is a force of nature in an apron.

This week: gingerbread. Again. Third December, third gingerbread. It's tradition now. The sorghum, the ginger, the black pepper, the darkness. I bake it every December because December demands it and because the gingerbread is the closest I get to a ritual, a ceremony, a repeated act that means more than its components. Flour and sorghum and spice don't equal December. But gingerbread does. The equation has a hidden variable and the hidden variable is time — the accumulated Decembers, the layered years, the fact that this is the third gingerbread and the third December and Clay is not here and the gingerbread is still warm and the house still smells like Christmas and the world is both diminished and continuing.

The gingerbread is its own ceremony, and I’m not touching that recipe — it belongs to December the way December belongs to itself. But when Betty called to talk tins and I started thinking about what actually ships well, what holds its integrity across state lines and Army mail rooms, my mind went to this Walnut-Date Quick Bread. It’s dense and honest the way Betty’s fudge is dense and honest; it wraps in foil without complaint, it doesn’t crumble under the weight of being sent somewhere important, and it tastes like something a person made it with their hands and their intentions. Clay got cornbread this year because love makes you irrational — but next December, he’s getting this.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 60 min | Total Time: 1 hr 15 min | Servings: 12 slices

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup pitted dates, roughly chopped
3/4 cup walnuts, coarsely chopped
1 large egg, beaten
1 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Heat oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x5-inch loaf pan and lightly dust with flour, tapping out any excess.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, and salt until evenly combined. Stir in the chopped dates and walnuts, tossing to coat them in the flour mixture so they don’t sink during baking.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the beaten egg, buttermilk, melted butter, and vanilla extract until smooth.
Combine. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently until just combined — a few streaks of flour remaining is fine. Do not overmix or the bread will be tough.
Bake. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan and smooth the top. Bake for 55–65 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the top is deep golden brown.
Cool. Let the bread rest in the pan for 10 minutes before turning it out onto a wire rack to cool completely. Slice only once fully cooled for cleanest results.
For shipping. Wrap tightly in plastic wrap, then a layer of foil. It holds well at room temperature for 3 days, or freeze up to 3 months. It can cross state lines. It has been tested.

Nutrition (per serving)

Walnut-Date Quick Bread — Something Worth Shipping Across State Lines