Banana Bread

Something about autumn makes me want to bake and bake, and then bake a bit more, as though we didn't have enough baked treats around already. During the hot summer months, it's hard to justify heating up the entire house for a loaf of bread or a cake that you're too hot to really want in the first place. During the fall, however, I adore the warmth radiating from the stovetop and the tantalizing baking aromas that waft through the house.

My post last week on spiced pumpkin bread got me thinking about, and of course craving, my mom's banana bread. I absolutely love it, but for some reason I've never gotten around to asking her for the recipe. We had a bunch of very, very ripe bananas on our counter for the past few days, which meant that there was only one thing to do! One weekend night at around midnight, when it was way too late to call and beg for the recipe, I realised that tweaking the pumpkin bread recipe might just do the trick.



Instead of pumpkin, I used four medium-sized, very ripe mashed bananas, along with 1/2 cup of roasted, mashed acorn squash that I found languishing in the 'fridge. This particular squash had such a subtle taste that I hoped it would add substance and texture without overpowering the banana flavour. I also omitted the heaping teaspoons of spices, opting instead for 1 teaspoon of allspice and 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract. And, as I usually do, I omitted the walnuts.

The bread came out golden and moist, with a pronounced, pleasant banana flavour. It tasted almost exactly like my mom's version. The recipe makes two large loaves, so once it had cooled, one loaf went right into the freezer. It will probably be eaten next week for weekday breakfasts.

Of course, there's nothing quite like a recipe that you grew up adoring, but I'm thrilled that this is pretty darn close!

Spiced Pumpkin Bread + Roasted Squash

I'm not a big fan of nutty, dry, light banana/zucchini/pumpkin-and-nut breads, but I do love their dark, moist, dense counterparts. I'm sure that this preference can be traced directly to my mom, who makes a flavourful, impossibly moist banana bread that I absolutely adore.

Last fall, during one of my frequent, late-night sudden urges to bake, I stumbled upon a Bon Appetit recipe for spiced pumpkin bread. I was in love at first bite, when I realised that this is the perfect fall version of my mom's banana bread.

Just a few notes from personal experience:

* I cut the sugar down to 2 cups, and I use 1 cup white, 1 cup brown sugar.

* To make up for the lost sugar, I add one extra egg; in the baking world, sugar is considered a liquid, so the egg is a successful substitution here.

* I omit the walnuts, as I prefer this bread sans nuts.

* I add a teaspoon of ground ginger for a hint of spicy heat.

* While I love the flavour of pumpkin, I've found that this recipe works really well with other roasted squash, too.

I highly recommend roasting your own pumpkin or squash for this bread. It's not difficult at all, and it tastes so much better than anything you can buy in a can.

You can also eat this squash- cubed or mashed- alongside a chicken or other roasted meats. Either way, you might just find yourself buying more Halloween pumpkins just for the leftovers!

This is the easiest way, that I know of, to both cook hard winter squash and remove the skin.



Roasted Squash

any amount winter squash*, stem ends sliced off, cut into manageable pieces**, seeds scooped out, skin left on

small amount olive oil or neutral vegetable oil


Preheat oven to 425'F. Cover baking sheets with parchment paper.

Set squash pieces, skin side down, onto the parchment paper. Brush cut sides with oil. Roast in the middle of your oven until a fork easily pierces the flesh (start checking at 30 minutes). Remove from oven and allow to cool.

When the squash is cool enough to handle, peel off the skin and cut into chunks, or process using a food mill.

* Butternut, acorn, delicata, spaghetti, pumpkin, etc.
** Cut large squash (over 1 lb) into quarters or eighths, lengthwise; smaller squash (less than 1 lb) can be cut into halves, lengthwise

Black Bread

During my 3rd year of college and the summer afterwards, I was lucky enough to conduct my theatre and Russian studies at a somewhat-famous theatre school in Moscow, Russia.

My wonderfully crazy Polish roommate* and I lived with 30 Russian students in a tiny dorm right smack in the centre of Moscow. As with most cities, the centre was the ultimate in prime real estate- we were a 15-20 minute walk to school, which just happened to be the next street over from the Kremlin and Red Square.

The dorm was modest and cozy, and I made some of my closest friends there. We had small kitchens on each floor that got the job done, though the ovens were notoriously unreliable and cooking became an engaging, and often hilarious, group activity, since you were able to fit approximately one and a half, or two very slender, people in each kitchen at a time.



As ten-hour days of classes, held six days a week, often left us too tired to cook anything for breakfast, most of us ate черный хлеб, or black bread, with various toppings in the morning. Black bread is incredibly dark, of course, and the flavour is a hard-to-describe combination of malty sweetness** and rye tang. I think its closest relative must be European pumpernickel.

I have two favourite black bread toppings, the first being butter and Hero sweet orange marmalade, and the second being creamy Laughing Cow cheese wedges (the kind that come individually wrapped in very thin tinfoil) and a few slices of tomato.



Black bread is something that I've had a very hard time finding in the states. When I came back from Russia, I went a few years without tasting it at all. A few weeks ago, however, I found one familiar-looking loaf at my favourite grocery store, hidden amidst the baguettes, foccacias, challah, brioche and country breads. I couldn't believe it at first- would it taste the same as the bread I'd eaten Russia, or would it be just different enough to be frustratingly disappointing?

I took the plunge, apprehensive as I was, and I am thrilled to report that it's exactly the same as my beloved Russian bread. The good news is that L prefers other breads, so we can pick one up each week and I will have the entire loaf to myself! If you have a European bakery or international grocery store near you, keep an eye out for black bread. It makes fantastic toast and delicious sandwiches.

* The crazy roommate quickly became one of my dearest friends. She once came very close to marrying a charming Italian man who built her a bicycle out of an odd assortment of stolen bicycle parts. Romantically bohemian, non? In the interest of witness protection, I am not at liberty to say where he procured the bicycle parts.

** This sweetness is the result of our friend, the Maillard reaction