To Grandmother's House, Banana Bread We Go!

January 12, 2006 was my grandmother's 91st birthday. As we know, I'm not the world's best gift giver, but I just had to do something for my grandmother. For her 90th, I got her Time/Life's Century in Photos, but she never received it. (After many conversations with Amazon, I'm still not sure what happened.) But she's my grandma, and it would her bother her more if I spent the money on a second gift, so we let it go. Grandmas are good like that.

She's an avid card player -- I've seen her take my brother and his sharky friends down mercilessly. My mother is convinced that all this card playing explains her lack of age-related memory challenges. In fact, it's the reason my mom has a started an aggressive regimen of sudoku, the way some retirees get into fiber.

But the gift, the gift, the gift. Mom said food, as grandma enjoys experiences, and doesn't need anymore stuff. I went a-searching on Godiva.com, Stonewall Kitchen, Dean & Deluca, Zabars...even Russ and Daughters. It just felt weird to spend $59.99 to send my grandmother an assortment of jams. Or bagels. Not right.

You see, when I was little, I spent 2 weeks every summer in upstate New York with grandma while my parents did whatever they wanted to do without me around. Grandma's house was slightly larger than the gingerbread version, but with more charm. Laundry was air-dried, the house was fan-cooled. We made too many jello molds; I learned the traitorous nature of a tuna sandwich dressed with Miracle Whip; and perhaps most importantly, I became familiar with a species of pickle not seen downstate -- the bread and butter.

On the plus side, Grandma and I would take her Ford to the farmstand to fresh corn. There was a lot of bacon, with that distinct morning smell, and there was Ham. She had a popcorn machine that we got her for Christmas one year, and every night we'd make our selves a snack. We got long sticks of pepperoni, and I was allowed to use the knife to cut it.

Grandma's neighbor built me a swing from a wood slat he cut in his garage so that I could swing from the clothesline pole while grandma hung my grass-stained clothes. Lots of friends came to visit her; they always told me how big I was getting. My cheeks ached from all the smiling and "nice to meet you"-ing. My grandma still, at age 90, has more friends than anyone I know. We'd regularly visit my great Aunt at the nursing home (she lived to 103), where I'd always find a packet of M&M's in her top drawer (planted by grandma, I believe).

I lost lots of teeth at grandma's house, primarily because I rigged a little string--doorknob thing and kept slamming that door until they came out. (When suburban kids get in the country, sans mall, they become very creative.) Losing teeth was a novelty in Grandma's house, and as such, remunerated more favorably than at home.

There were men who would sit outside their houses and clean their guns (one shot himself one summer, I mean, duh...), and I played with friends in a "crick". I picked bouquets of Queen Anne's lace (weed) for my grandma, and captured frogs and fireflies, which consistently died by morning. That's okay, there were always more.

So grandma's 91st birthday came and went, and I moped. I finally sent my mom an email, something to the effect that I wish she wasn't so far away, as I'd prefer to just cook her a proper meal. To which my mother responded, "Send her one." Perhaps all this sudoku was working afterall.

I decided on the simplest, most delicious, classic, un-fussy, un-showoffy item I could ship with some confidence: Banana Bread. I bought the bananas and let them sit for 2 or 3 weeks, until they were beautifully black, and called my grandmother in the meantime to let her know a gift was en route. (Yes, I sent a card; it's not like I'm a total cretin.)

I made the bread old school -- I think this was the first recipe I learned as a kid and made with any consistency in college. When I taught nursery school, this was a lesson for the kids; it's incredibly tactile (and resilient).

So I sent it and grandma was thrilled. Best birthday gift ever -- she even called my mom to tell her so. But my favorite part of this story: Guess what my cousin gave grandma for the 91st? A homemade Cranberry Nut bread. Ain't genetics a hoot?


Grandma's Banana Bread
by Allison Fishman, The Wooden Spoon

3 seriously ripe, almost totally black bananas
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup butter, melted and cooled
1 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt

1. Preheat oven to 350F. In a large bowl, combine bananas, sugar, butter.

2. In a smaller bowl, combine flour, soda and salt. Whisk to combine dry ingredients.

3. Move back to the big bowl, and roll up your sleeves. Mush the heck out of the banana mixture. Sprinkle the flour mixture on top of the banana mixture and stir with those sticky hands until just-combined, don't over mix.

4. Pour batter into a 9 x 5 loaf pan coated with nonstick spray (8 x 4 will work as well, and will crest more). Bake until top bounces back when gently pressed, 50 minutes to 1 hour. Put loaf pan on a cooling rack until it's cool enough to touch; invert and let bread finish cooling outside of the pan.

5. When cool, wrap in plastic wrap and aluminum foil (especially necessary if you buy cheap-o plastic wrap like me). Take to your nearest UPS store or Post Office; send to grandma.