sunday morning spiced banana bread

serves one small family over the course of a couple days

prep time: twenty minutes

cook time: seventy minutes

note: it’s five a.m. and you are fourteen years old. your parents are sleeping.

ingredients:

forgotten brown bananas

eggs

some inoffensive oil

store brand imitation vanilla extract

sugar, white or brown or the yellowish grainy kind your mother puts in her tea

all purpose flour, but your family calls it maida

baking powder and baking soda

salt

familiar spices (cardamom, cinnamon, ginger or whatever else)

almonds (optional but preferred)

note: you couldn’t fall asleep last night. around four thirty you decided to give up and get out of bed. so now you are making banana bread.

directions:

in a large bowl, mash three bananas with a fork, which shouldn’t be hard cause you found them in a sorry disintegrating state.

add two eggs, half a cup of oil, and a splash of extract and mix, probably with that same fork.

note: maybe in the spring you would hear the birds sing by now. but it’s the thick of winter, so except for the odd train whistle, the silence hangs heavy in the air. it’s so dark outside and so still, you think you might just be alone in the world.

once mixed, add one cup of sugar, two cups of flour (spooned and leveled like some recipe blog taught you), one teaspoon each of the baking powder and soda, and a couple pinches of salt.

at this point preheat the oven to 325 degrees fahrenheit so it’s ready as soon as the batter is, to avoid wasting power.

anyway, you can then add whatever ground spices you see fit, as long as you measure them with your heart. then stir to combine (with some difficulty, if you’re still using the fork).

note: despite the emptiness, you’ve always appreciated early mornings. there’s something peaceful about being awake before the sun. time feels dense and syrupy as you move around it. time passes and for once it doesn’t bother you.

stop stirring once the batter is well combined with no streaks of flour.

line a metal loaf pan with some parchment before pouring the batter in. then, if you want, chop up some almonds and sprinkle them on top cause your father has to keep his iron up and your mother just really likes almonds.

note: today is your birthday. you feel like you should be excited about this. you should be grateful or happy in some way but instead there’s just a hollow feeling sitting low in your stomach. you guess you just don’t feel like something worth celebrating yet. it makes you feel better to bake something for your parents.

the oven dings—it’s done preheating. bake the bread for around seventy minutes, give or take, but it’s mostly give what with the state of your old oven. you’ll know it’s nearly done when the kitchen is warm with the smell of sweet banana and spices.

note: but you’re content enough to wait in front of the oven, watching the bread rise slowly, making yourself some green tea and letting the mug warm your hands, the steam warm your face. you’re content for now to sit with this stillness. maybe all you ever need is some time to yourself.

once baked, remove the banana bread from the oven carefully. let it cool for five to ten minutes before removing it from the pan to cool completely.

note: best served leaning over the kitchen counter with a butter knife, carving out a corner for yourself while it’s still warm.