Peanut Butter Banana Bread

The last ordinary weeks. I did not know they were the last ordinary weeks. You never know. The ordinary disguises itself as permanent, and you walk through it the way you walk through your own house — without looking, without noticing the walls, without counting the steps from the kitchen to the bedroom, because you have walked this path so many times it has worn a groove in the floor and in your soul.

This was an ordinary week. Monday I made chicken and dumplings for the shut-in deliveries. Tuesday I cleaned the church kitchen. Wednesday I cooked for Bible study supper: smothered pork chops, rice, collard greens, cornbread. Thursday I visited Sister Arlene, who told me Mama would be proud, the way she always tells me, and I believed her, the way I always believe her. Friday I baked a pound cake because the weekend was coming and weekends need pound cake the way mornings need coffee — not because they cannot function without it but because they function better with it.

Marcus came home from school Thursday talking about a road trip some of his friends were planning for spring break. A drive to the beach, he said. Gulf Shores. Him and DeShawn and a couple other boys. I said I would think about it, which is mother language for I am going to worry about this for two weeks and then say yes because you are eighteen and the holding has to loosen even when the loosening feels like dropping. Calvin said let the boy go, which is father language for I am also worried but I am performing calm for both of us.

I made fried catfish Friday night because Marcus asked for it and because when your son asks for fried catfish you do not say no, you say how many pieces, and the answer is always more than he thinks he wants and exactly how many he eats. I breaded the catfish in seasoned cornmeal and fried it in the cast iron — the same skillet Mama gave me, the one that is older than anyone alive, the one that weighs nine pounds and has cooked more meals than any human could count. The fish was golden and crispy and the kitchen smelled like Friday night and love and everything that is ordinary and extraordinary about feeding a boy who is becoming a man.

Saturday night Calvin and I sat on the couch watching television and not talking about anything important. Marcus was in his room. The house was warm. The sounds were the sounds of a family at home on a Saturday night in January — the television murmuring, the heater humming, the refrigerator cycling. Ordinary sounds. Permanent sounds. Sounds that I would give anything to hear again, though I did not know it then. I did not know. You never know. That is the cruelty and the mercy of ordinary time.

I said weekends need pound cake the way mornings need coffee, and I meant it — but what I really meant was that weekends need something you made with your own hands, something warm and sweet sitting on the counter when everybody wanders through the kitchen. This peanut butter banana bread is that kind of bake: the kind you make not because anyone asked but because the house feels more like home when something good is in the oven. I think about that Friday now, the smell of the cast iron and the fish and the cake, and I want to hold onto it the only way I know how — by baking something and setting it out for whoever walks through the door.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 60 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Servings: 10 slices

Ingredients

3 very ripe bananas, mashed (about 1 1/4 cups)
1/2 cup creamy peanut butter
1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
2/3 cup light brown sugar, packed
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon fine salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 cup chopped roasted peanuts or chocolate chips (optional)

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x5-inch loaf pan with butter or nonstick spray and set aside.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the mashed bananas, peanut butter, and melted butter until smooth and well combined. Add the brown sugar, eggs, and vanilla extract and whisk until the mixture is uniform.
Add the dry ingredients. Sprinkle the flour, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon over the wet mixture. Using a wooden spoon or spatula, fold gently until just combined — do not overmix. A few streaks of flour are fine; the batter should look thick and a little rough.
Fold in add-ins. If using peanuts or chocolate chips, fold them in now with a few gentle strokes.
Pour and bake. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan and smooth the top. Bake on the center rack for 55 to 65 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean or with just a few moist crumbs. If the top begins to brown too quickly after 40 minutes, tent loosely with foil.
Cool before slicing. Let the bread cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack. Allow to cool for at least 20 minutes before slicing. The loaf holds together and slices cleanly once it has had time to set.

Nutrition (per serving)

Peanut Butter Banana Bread — The Weekend Bake That Holds a Family Together