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Zucchini Banana Bread — Baking the Last of the Garden Before the Frost

Jack's garden operation grows more ambitious every year. The greenhouse, the market sales, the Farm Fund jar that now holds over three hundred dollars. He's 14 and he farms the way some kids play video games — obsessively, joyfully, with the deep understanding that this is not a hobby but a vocation wearing a hobby's clothes.

Thursday was tater tot hotdish, because Thursday is always tater tot hotdish and the schedule doesn't change for anything — not pandemics, not loss, not the passage of years. The tater tots go in at 375 and come out golden and the family eats them and the eating is the Thursday and the Thursday is the structure and the structure holds. But I also made pot roast with more carrots earlier this week, because the kitchen doesn't only look backward. The kitchen grows.

The garden winding down. Corn stalks brown and leaning. Last peppers picked before frost. Jack's garlic going in — the patience crop, planted now for next July. Nine months underground. The faith that the future needs what the present plants.

When Jack pulled the last zucchini before the frost moved in, I didn’t want to let it sit — it felt wrong to let the garden’s final gift go to waste, especially with the corn stalks already brown and leaning. I had two spotty bananas on the counter and a kitchen that still wanted to be useful, and that felt like all the reason I needed. This zucchini banana bread is the kind of thing you make when the season is ending and you want to hold onto it just a little longer — something warm from the oven that smells like the garden even after the garden is gone.

Zucchini Banana Bread

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

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 2 ripe bananas, mashed (about 3/4 cup)
  • 1 cup shredded zucchini (about 1 medium), excess moisture squeezed out
  • 2 large eggs
  • 1/3 cup vegetable oil
  • 1/2 cup granulated sugar
  • 1/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • 1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans (optional)

Instructions

  1. Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x5-inch loaf pan and set aside.
  2. Prepare the zucchini. Shred the zucchini on the large holes of a box grater. Wrap the shreds in a clean kitchen towel and squeeze firmly to remove as much moisture as possible. Measure out 1 cup and set aside.
  3. Mix the dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg until evenly combined.
  4. Mix the wet ingredients. In a large bowl, mash the bananas until mostly smooth. Whisk in the eggs, oil, granulated sugar, brown sugar, and vanilla until well combined.
  5. Combine. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir gently until just combined — do not overmix. Fold in the shredded zucchini and nuts, if using.
  6. Bake. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan and smooth the top. Bake for 55—65 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean and the top is deep golden brown.
  7. Cool. Let the bread cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack to cool completely before slicing. The texture improves as it cools.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 230 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 35g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 210mg

Diane Holloway
About the cook who shared this
Diane Holloway
Week 496 of Diane’s 30-year story · Des Moines, Iowa
Diane is a forty-six-year-old insurance adjuster in Des Moines who grew up on a four-hundred-acre farm that her family had worked since 1908. When commodity prices crashed and the bank came calling, the Webers lost the farm — four generations of heritage sold at auction. Diane left with her mother's casserole recipes and a cast iron skillet and rebuilt her life in the city. She cooks Midwest comfort food because it tastes like home, even when home doesn't exist anymore.

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