Banana bread that would make even Mark Bittman a little jealous

For Christmas, Osei got me a super nice mixer.  It is like the Lexus of standing mixers.  So, of course, we've been baking lately.  Osei has made 2 batches of banana bread with walnuts and chocolate chips so far.  We're in the midst of some playful banter, and unfortunately, Osei did not take my suggestion to use Mark Bittman's recipe and instead went with Joy of Cooking.  He did, however, use two very "a la Bittman" tweaks, including substituting whole wheat flour, and then the next day, toasting the bread and serving it to his wife (me!) for breakfast.

But this weekend we had banana bread that just blew us out of the water.  Actually, it blew our banana bread out of the water.  The amazing taste blew our minds, but I digress.  Our measly banana-flavored concoction suddenly appeared unsophisticated and frumpy, the way a community college dropout must feel when thrust into an intellectual conversation with Harvard PH.D's.  In the wrong league.

We were at a party celebrating the birthday of our friend, Myra, when in waltzed one of her roommates with a lit birthday cake.  Our hostess blew out the candles and eagerly passed around thick slices of the banana bread, warm chocolate chips oozing.  I got a slightly bigger piece, and Osei informed me he'd be happy to trade pieces with me, in case it was too much for me to handle.  Yeah, right.  Three of us, previously conversing (before the most amazing banana bread ever tasted), loaded up our first fork-full without hesitation.

The room went silent.  Slowly, the daze of stars circling our heads faded, and our vision shifted back into focus.  Our conversation buddy, Simon, remarked that he didn't think he could restrain himself from eating the entire loaf if he didn't physically remove himself from the room.  Osei whimpered slightly, overcome by the surprise burst of cinnamon-sugar topping coating the thick crust.  Bits of chocolate chips and flecks of bread coated his lips as the silky soft bread melted in his mouth. 

I pretended to kiss my husband.  Yes, I love him and can hardly keep my hands off of him, but this time an unusually large chunk of banana bread just sat there, abandoned, on his lower lip.  I kissed my husband so that I could eat a crumb off of his lip. 

I foolishly bated, "Something this good could only be Mark Bittman, agreed?"  Truly, I enjoyed the banana bread we made ourselves.  But this was comparing Jupiter to Mercury.  Practically a galaxy apart.  Even I knew the futility of my weak attempt to score a point for Mark Bittman and resolve our Joy vs Bittman debate once and for all..

Simon, unaware he'd inadvertently engaged in a marital showdown, gently reminded me that there was nothing Minimalist about this banana goodness.  We all agreed it could only be a Grandmother's recipe. 

Word quickly spread around the party that this was no ordinary banana bread.  Probably the best thing any of us had ever tasted.  Myra paused the ipod, interrupting Rihnna's "What's My Name," to give credit where credit is due.  Her roommate, Sam Schwartz, humbly smiled when the entire party acknowledged her amazing baking with rounds of applause and cheers.  No exaggeration either.  I've never before in my life had the urge to clap for banana bread.

Obviously, at this point, I had to speak to Sam herself.  I quickly got over being wrong for even suggesting that Bittman's recipe could rival this baby.  I had to find Sam and know more.  Indeed, this recipe had been passed down to her from her grandmother.  Sam showed me the original hand scripted notebook, and kindly allowed me to copy down the recipe. 

My life changed a little bit this weekend.  I arrived at Myra's house in a relatively ignorant state of Pre-Banana-Bread status quo, and both Osei and I returned home changed people.  Trying to re-create Sam's banana bread at home will be a tall order.  There appear to be small subtleties in technique, and I can't help but think that maybe Ghirardelli chocolate chips are truly qualitatively superior to Stop-and-Shop brand.  Maybe we need to wait until the bananas turn completely brown with ripeness.  And our healthy whole wheat flour?  I think we have enough compelling evidence to at least try it with white flour. 

Fortunately, we have an excellent mixer.  As far as settling our claims between Mark Bittman and Joy of Cooking, Sam's banana bread resolved nothing.  The marital debate continues, but Osei and I are both winners on this one.

Mark Bittman, Don't leave me!

I just read today in the New York Times that my favorite columnist, Mark Bittman, is ending The Minimalist. I'm not saying this in a way to make my husband jealous, but I love Mark Bittman. I've written about him here and here and his "How to Cook Everything" cookbook is my go-to cooking resource. I also have my own binder of recipes, which is bursting full of The Minimalist columns and recipes I've printed and collected over the years. Click here for a list of 25 of Mark's favorite columns

Here are a few quotes that jumped out at me as Mark discusses the end of his Minimalist column.

"The column’s goal, my job, has been to help make home cooking more accessible." I agree that he has done his job well. Mark Bittman, I will miss your clever and simple cooking ideas.

"One goal has always been to demonstrate that few recipes are dogma; they can all be tweaked. And learning to tweak is part of becoming a cook." Mark, this is why I love your style. I hate following recipes, because they feel so rigid. I love the way you always encourage me to be creative and use the ingredients I like and already have.

"I refused to buy into the notion that there was a “correct” way to prepare a given dish; rather, I tried to understand its spirit and duplicate that, no matter where I was cooking." All I can say here is Yes!

On the plus side, Mark Bittman isn't leaving the New York Times entirely. He's going to be writing a new weekly column on the politics of food, (another topic very dear to my heart). For all those who had no idea food, farming, and healthy eating was so political, I highly recommend Michael Pollen's book, In Defense of Food.

Mark Bittman, I will miss your weekly column, but I am glad it is not over between us.  I still have 13 years worth of archived columns to get through, and I'll always be a devoted follower of your cookbook.  I wish you the very best. 

Mark, we raise our batter bowls and measuring cups to you.