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Double Chocolate Quick Bread — The One I Kept Baking All December

The week before Christmas and I am twenty-seven weeks pregnant and somehow in charge of making the Irish soda bread for three different gatherings, which I accept because soda bread requires no standing at the counter for longer than twenty minutes and Maureen specifically requested it, which means if I don't make it there will be a gap in the holiday that she will fill with Declan references.

The apartment is the fullest it's ever looked at Christmas. We got a real tree this year, a Fraser fir Sean carried up the stairs himself, and it fills the corner by the window and the whole place smells like pine and whatever I have simmering on the stove, which this week has been mulled cider and then white bean soup and then gingerbread that came out better than I expected. I've been baking constantly. The nesting energy has taken a holiday turn and I can't seem to stop producing food.

At work the December shift has its own weight. Patients who know they're spending Christmas in oncology have done the math and there's a grief to that particular arithmetic that you don't get used to no matter how many years you're in. I try to make the room right—extra blanket, Christmas card tacked up where they can see it, a few extra minutes on rounds. Small things. The only things available.

Sean and I wrapped presents on Thursday night, cross-legged on the living room floor with the tree lights on and Christmas radio playing, and I thought: next year Liam will be here. He'll be nine months old. He won't know what Christmas is yet but he'll be in this room with the lights on and with us and that will be enough. That will be more than enough.

Between the three batches of soda bread, the gingerbread, and the white bean soup, I still had energy left to bake one more thing—which tells you everything about what nesting at twenty-seven weeks during the holidays looks like. This double chocolate quick bread became the thing I made just for us, the one that sat on the counter under a tea towel and got sliced into after present-wrapping sessions with the tree lights on. It’s simple the way soda bread is simple: no fuss, no long rise, just something warm and good coming out of the oven when you need it most.

Double Chocolate Quick Bread

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Servings: 10

Ingredients

  • 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 2 large eggs
  • 1 cup buttermilk
  • 1/3 cup vegetable oil
  • 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
  • 1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

Instructions

  1. Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 350°F. Grease and flour a 9x5-inch loaf pan or line with parchment paper.
  2. Whisk the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, cocoa powder, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt until evenly combined.
  3. Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs, buttermilk, vegetable oil, and vanilla extract until smooth.
  4. Combine wet and dry. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir with a wooden spoon or spatula until just combined—do not overmix. A few small lumps are fine.
  5. Fold in the chocolate chips. Gently fold in the semisweet chocolate chips, reserving a small handful for the top if desired.
  6. Bake. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan and scatter any reserved chocolate chips on top. Bake for 50–55 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs.
  7. Cool completely. Let the bread cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely before slicing. The texture improves as it rests.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 47g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 260mg

Kate Donovan
About the cook who shared this
Kate Donovan
Week 91 of Kate’s 30-year story · Boston, Massachusetts
Kate is a thirty-five-year-old nurse practitioner in Boston and a widowed mother of two whose husband Sean died of brain cancer at thirty-three. She makes Irish soda bread and beef stew and shepherd's pie because the recipes are all she has left of a man who was supposed to grow old with her. She writes about cooking through grief and finding out you can still feed your children on the worst day of your life.

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