Beernana Bread — The Small Kitchen Recipe That Holds You Together

Baton Rouge summer — heat index of 105 by noon. Anatomy lab three days this week. The cadaver work is what they say it is. I am holding up.

Drove to Baker Saturday morning. MawMaw Shirley was at the stove already. We made gumbo. Thirty-five minutes of roux. The lesson keeps unfolding. Tanya called Sunday. We talked recipes. She asked about my schedule. We do not talk about DeAndre directly. We never do. We talk around it.

Fried catfish Friday. Cornmeal coated. Cast iron. Hot grease.

Jamal called from Houston. The logistics job is good. He is good. Kayla showed me a graphic design project Tuesday. She's at BRCC. The art is hers.

Sat on the porch with iced tea. The Louisiana evening.

I sent MawMaw a photo of my gumbo Tuesday. She replied, "too light, baby, keep stirring." She has not changed the critique in twelve years. The critique is the love.

I drove past the gas station where DeAndre died. I do not stop. I do not avoid it either. The drive past is the drive past. He is twenty-eight in my head. He stays twenty-eight.

I sat on the porch Saturday afternoon with iced tea. The neighbor's kids were playing kickball. The Louisiana evening is its own kind of Sabbath. The cicadas were starting up. The light was the gold-going-blue light of the southern dusk.

Anatomy lab three days this week. The cadaver work is what they say it is — not gross, not romantic, just human. I went home after Friday lab and made gumbo because the only thing that quiets the body after a day in the lab is the slow stir of a roux.

Tanya's tomatoes were in this week. She brought a sack. I made a sandwich for lunch every day for four days. Heirloom tomato, white bread, mayo, salt. The summer lunch. The simplest pleasure of summer.

Daddy sent me an Amazon receipt accidentally Sunday. He bought a power tool I do not understand. Standard. He texted twenty minutes later, "wrong thread, sorry baby." I told him don't worry about it. He said thank you. The exchange was the exchange.

Daddy called Sunday afternoon. He is sixty-something and his knees are still bad and he still has not gotten the second one replaced. I am working on him. He is working on me to stop working on him. We are at an impasse. The impasse is the love.

I went to the gym Tuesday and Thursday this week. Twenty minutes on the treadmill. Standard. The body is the only equipment I have for the rest of my life and I am trying to maintain it.

MawMaw Shirley's recipe cards in the wooden box on the kitchen counter. I copied another one Saturday morning at her kitchen table. The collection is growing. She watched me copy. She corrected my Cs. She has always corrected my Cs.

The apartment kitchen is small but it cooks. Two burners. One pot. A cutting board balanced on the counter because the counter is too small for both the cutting board and the toaster.

I texted Kayla about her latest design portfolio Tuesday. She is good. She has Tanya's directness and Daddy's eye for proportion. The design field will know her name eventually.

Tanya brought a casserole over Wednesday. The Tanya casserole. Half went into the freezer. The other half fed me Wednesday and Thursday. Mama's casseroles are the silent backup of my entire adult life.

Driving past the Scotlandville house Sunday afternoon, the one Daddy rebuilt after the flood. The house is solid. The house is the house. I see the watermark from the flood every time I look at the foundation. We do not paint over it. We let it tell the story.

The catfish was for Friday, and the gumbo was for the lab days, but it was the bread that got me through the quiet middle of the week — the Tuesday and Wednesday hours when the apartment was still and the freezer casserole was already gone. I wanted something I could make with what I had: two burners, one counter, and whatever was in the fruit bowl going soft. This Beernana Bread is what happens when a small kitchen and a long week meet each other halfway. MawMaw would probably correct something about it. That’s fine.

Beernana Bread

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 10 slices

Ingredients

• 3 ripe bananas, mashed
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted
• 3/4 cup granulated sugar
• 1 large egg, beaten
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/2 cup beer (a malty lager or amber ale works well)
• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Instructions

1. Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x5-inch loaf pan and set aside.
2. Mash the bananas. In a large bowl, mash the ripe bananas thoroughly with a fork until almost smooth. A few small lumps are fine.
3. Mix wet ingredients. Stir the melted butter into the mashed bananas. Add the sugar, beaten egg, and vanilla extract, mixing until combined. Pour in the beer and stir gently — the batter will foam slightly.
4. Add dry ingredients. Sprinkle in the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon. Fold everything together with a spatula just until no dry streaks remain. Do not overmix.
5. Bake. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan. Bake for 50–55 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the top is deep golden brown.
6. Cool before slicing. Let the loaf cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn it out onto a wire rack. Slice once mostly cooled — it holds together better and the flavor deepens as it rests.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 240 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 220mg