Create the Universe . . . then Bake the Best Apple Pie You've Ever Imagined . . .

Carl Sagan, the late American astronomer, uttered my favorite pie quote of all time. He said, "If you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe." That's beautiful, isn't it? Now, I know that Carl wasn't really talking about our kind of pie so much as he was commenting on something esoteric and metaphysical and . . . well . . . cosmic. It seems to me, though, a perfectly fitting quotation with which to begin because a few days ago, somehow or other, I managed to bake the best apple pie that my own small universe has yet encountered. The first and only one I've ever concocted that I've been completely satisfied with, and not just satisfied, but astoundingly pleased.

Yes, fellow bakers, you heard me right. After years of less than stellar results, I finally produced what I consider to be a truly fabulous apple pie. Not so-so, not okay, not pretty good. Incredibly good. And just in time for Turkey Day (how timely, how opportune!). It could hardly have occurred at a better moment.

My measuring-cup runneth over . . .

What, you may ask, brought on this little victory? Well, I feel it's largely attributable to cookbook author Nancy Baggett's recipe for deep dish apple pie, which appears in The All American Dessert Book, with particular credit given to her pastry crust. I'd been casually scouting around for a promising apple pie formula over the last few weeks, thinking maybe I'd make one around Thanksgiving. And though I'd never baked what I felt was a really excellent apple pie before, hope--however poignant and naive--does tend to spring eternal.

Of course, there's nothing at all unusual about 90 percent of the fruit pie recipes one runs across. They typically have more in common than not. But there were a couple of factors about Nancy's pie that struck me as uncustomary and intriguing. The crust, for example, calls for a little baking powder, a meaningful portion of cake flour, and--get this--she tells you to lightly grease your pie pan. I've never seen a fruit pie recipe that directs you to grease the pan, but it makes perfect sense doesn't it? Indeed it does.

The gal just likes to tinker . . .

Because I found her crust recipe so interesting, I followed it by the book with no tinkering (I swear, no tinkering at all . . . I'll testify to that in federal court if you want me to). The pie crust, once baked, was flaky, tender, and firm enough to hold up without crumbling to bits. It wasn't too dry, nor was it at all soggy. The taste was just right--very slightly salty with just the tiniest glimmer of sweetness. It was the crust a serious home-baker dreams about producing. In a nutshell, just yummy.

Regarding the apple filling, I did do some substantial tinkering there, but nothing I'd consider radical. What did I change? Well, instead of following her recommendation to use "at least three different kinds of apples," I used only Galas--very crisp and sweet. This was not so much by design as by necessity since I had only Galas on hand and wasn't in a position to run to the market. I figured I'd just take my chances and that turned out to a lucky choice.

Nancy, then, directs readers to slice the apples thinly. I haven't had happy moments with thinly sliced apples in past pies because, in my experience, they have a tendency to turn to unadulterated mush, and there's nothing I find at all appealing about apple filling that resembles apple sauce. So, I cut my apples into generous bite-sized chunks, figuring I wouldn't risk it.

I also knew at the outset of this particular pie venture that I was going to augment the filling with a few cranberries, either dried or fresh (of course, you can always omit these, but why would you want to go and do that? . . . after all, they're such a pretty color, and they're good for you, so just simmer down and surrender to the moment, okay?). I ended up using dried cranberries that I'd soaked in orange juice for about 20 minutes to brighten their flavor and soften them up; that turned out to be an inspired decision, I am convinced. I also upped the amount of cinnamon in the recipe a little bit, and doubled the amount of lemon juice. All in all, the flavor of the filling was fantastic--just perfect.

You never know until you taste it . . .

The pie baked well, and looked fine out of the oven, but I didn't have a clue as to its success-quotient until I actually tasted it. Doubtful of what my tastebuds were conveying, I tasted again . . . and then one more diminutive bite to seal the deal. By golly it was true. "Holy moly," I thought, "Finally. It's about time."

And so it was, just as now it's about time for me to give you the recipe . . .


Apple Pie with Dried Cranberries

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

To make the pastry dough (enough for one double-crust pie):

8 Tbsp. cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/3" chunks
7 Tbsp. solid vegetable shortening, cut or spooned into 14 pieces
2 cups All-Purpose flour
2/3 cup cake flour
1 and 1/2 Tbsp. granulated sugar
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking powder
6 to 9 Tbsp. ice water

Freeze the butter cubes and shortening pieces for 20 minutes.

To mix the dough by hand (which is what I did, with my faithful pastry blender):
In a large bowl, completely stir together the flours, sugar, salt, and baking powder. Cut in the fat until the mixture looks like coarse crumbs with a few bits the size of small peas remaining. Scrape up the flour mixture on the bottom of the bowl.

In a small bowl, measure 6 Tbsp. of ice water. With a fork, lightly combine the water, bit by bit, with the flour mixture, tossing until the water is evenly incorporated and the dough begins to form clumps (Nancy notes "15 to 20 strokes" at this point; I wouldn't get too anal about this). Reach down to the bottom of the bowl to make sure all the flour is dampened. Pinch a small bit of dough between your fingers; it should hold together smoothly and be moist but not soggy.

If crumbly or dry, sprinkle over more of the ice water, a couple of teaspoons at a time, tossing with the fork. When the dough is moistened enough to hold together when pinched, gather it up, and press it firmly together with your fingers into a smooth mass.

Divide it into two equal portions and shape each into a disk about 5" across. Wrap each disc in plastic and chill in the fridge for an hour. (The dough can be refrigerated for up to two days, or frozen for up to one month; thaw the dough in the fridge before using.)

To make the apple-cranberry filling:

10 and 1/2 cups peeled, cored apples cut into large bite-sized chunks (I used all Galas)
2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup light brown sugar, packed
3 and 1/2 to 4 and 1/2 Tbsp. cornstarch (use the larger amount if your apples are really juicy; I used 4 Tbsp. in my pie)
3/4 tsp. cinnamon (I used Penzey's Extra Fancy Vietnamese Cassia--it's potent and extremely good)
1 pinch of salt
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter, cut into bits
1/2 cup dried cranberries that have been soaked in a orange juice for 20 minutes or so and then drained
1 Tbsp. half & half for brushing on top of pie dough
1 and 1/2 Tbsp. sanding sugar for sprinkling on top of pie (I prefer the larger sparkly crystals of sanding sugar, but regular granulated sugar will work fine too)

Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat to 400 degrees.

In a very large, heavy, nonreactive saucepan (not a copper pan, basically), toss the apple chunks with the lemon juice. In a small bowl, stir together thoroughly the two sugars, the cinnamon, cornstarch, and salt. Add the sugar mixture and the butter bits to the apples; toss until well combined. Bring the whole mixture to a simmer over medium-high heat. Simmer, stirring and scraping the pan bottom, for about 3 minutes, or until the apples cook down slightly; do not let the apples burn.

Remove the pan from the burner.

Add in the cranberries and stir to evenly distribute them. Taste, and add a dab more lemon juice if you feel it's needed. Set aside.

To roll out the pastry dough:

Lightly grease a 9-1/2" deep dish pie plate (if you have a deep dish pie plate you might as well use that, but I just used a regular pie plate that was 9" in circumference and it turned out fine). If the 5" dough disc is cold and stiff, let it warm up until slightly pliable but still cool. Dust it generously with flour on both sides.

Between two sheets of parchment paper, roll out one dough portion into a circle that's about 13 and 1/2" round. Occasionally check the underside of the dough while rolling and smooth out any wrinkles.

If the dough becomes at all sticky or limp, place it on a cookie sheet in the freezer for about five minutes to firm up. When done rolling, gently peel off the top sheet of paper, then pat it lightly back into place. Flip over, and peel the bottom sheet off the dough. Center the round, dough side down, onto your pie plate. Gently peel off the remaining paper. Smooth the dough into place and patch any tears. Using scissors or a paring knife, trim the overhand to about 1/4". Prick the pastry all over with a fork (I didn't do this; your choice if you want to do it). Loosely cover the pastry and place it in the freezer while you roll out the top crust (I didn't do this either, but I was working pretty fast at this point; basically, just don't let the plated dough get warm at all). Roll out the second portion of dough the same way as you just did above. Transfer the round, with paper still attached on both sides, to a baking sheet and place it in the fridge.

To assemble the pie:
Pour the apple-cranberry mixture onto the bottom crust in your pie plate, mounding the fruit in the center.

Take your top crust dough, and remove one sheet of the paper. Flip that over and center the dough onto the mounded fruit. Peel off and discard the remaining paper. Trim the pie's top overhang to about 3/4". Fold the overhang under the bottom pastry edge to form an edge that rests on the lip of the plate. Press the top and bottom edges together firmly, crimping as you like (with your fingers, or with the tines of a fork, etc.) all the way around.

Cut slashes/vents in the top of the crust for steam to escape, using a small sharp knife (grease the knife if it's not super sharp; I cut five vents).

Using a soft pastry brush (I like to use a floppy silicone brush for this kind of thing), brush the half-and-half lightly on the top--not on the edges--of the pie, and sprinkle the top with the sanding (or granulated) sugar.

Put the pie on a baking sheet (I use an old, stained cookie sheet for juicy pies) to catch any drips. Bake for 25 to 35 minutes, or until the crust is lightly browned. Make a large, loose, foil tent over the top of the entire pie. Continue baking for at least 30 minutes more, or until the top is nicely golden-brown and the filling is bubbly.

Let the pie cool on a wire rack for at least 1 and 1/2 hours, and a few hours longer if at all possible. The cooler the pie is, the neater the slices will be.

* * * * * * *
Wonderful on its own, but also delicious served with a little vanilla ice cream on the side. Hope yours turns out as well as mine did!


Recipe full disclosure! The recipes in this post come from The All-American Dessert Book by Nancy Baggett (2005, Houghton Mifflin). The recipes I used appear on pages 18 - 21, for her "Favorite Deep Dish Apple Pie," and on pages 90 - 91, for "All-Purpose Pie Pastry Dough." As noted above, I adapted the filling recipe. Also, I reworded her instructions slightly, here and there. This is a very good book and I highly recommend it.

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Homemade Pumpkin Ice Cream with Crispy Ginger Cookies . . .

Remember that ice-cream making attachment that I bought for my KitchenAid mixer a few months ago? I first talked about it in June, when I made mango ice cream--does that ring a bell? Well, anyway, since I got it I've tried about five ice cream recipes, only two of which were really very good. One of the good ones was produced this week--that would be pumpkin ice cream.

Now, before this morning, I can assure you I'd never tasted pumpkin flavored ice cream before in my life, nor ever craved it. I know I've never considered ordering anything like it in an ice cream shop, when faced with 31 or more predictable flavors (doubtless I'd pick something chocolatey and very chunky; that seems to be my ice-cream shop M.O.). But, I must say I'm pleased with the way this recipe turned out. It's truly interesting, and seems to have layers of flavor. There's a little grated orange zest in it, and that brightens the taste in a subtle way. It's not like pumpkin pie filling frozen on a stick, in case you were wondering. (Were you wondering?)

There seem to be quite a few variables that affect the success of homemade ice cream, most of which I simply haven't figured out yet. Some recipes contain a cooked custard mixture, others might contain a bit of corn starch, some contain boatloads of heavy cream, while others . . . well, you get the drift. What determines what will help to thicken some ice creams beautifully but not others? Je ne sais pas. (Beats me.) No, I haven't cracked the code yet as to why some recipes work well and others leave much to be desired, but I'm workin' on it. (I think I'd better put David Lebovitz's book The Perfect Scoop on my Christmas list--based on reader reviews, that seems to be the last word lately on great homemade I.C.!)

In keeping with the ubiquitous autumnal theme (there is an autumnal theme that's just raging in food/baking blogs lately . . . raging, I tell you) I figured ginger cookies would complement the pumpkin nicely, so I made a few this morning and they do indeed mesh well. The cookie recipe is one that I adapted from Gourmet magazine, in the December 1998 issue, for "Swedish Ginger Thins." (Poor Gourmet . . . you've probably already heard over and over that the magazine's just closed up shop. What a pity and a shame.) They're really very much like ginger snaps, except not rock hard and super crunchy. In fact, these are nicely crispy on the outside, in a tender sort of way, and a little bit soft and chewy on the inside. They're so thin, I'm not quite sure how they accomplish that feat, but they do.

These are cookies that are designed to be rolled out and cut with a cutter, but that can be a hassle with this type of very sticky, soft dough (even when properly chilled, this type of dough gets soft again at the speed of sound). I made a few of them that way, but then decided to just scoop the rest and press them down with the bottom of a glass dipped in sugar, in the interest of time and sanity. Those would be the round ones you see in the photos.

I altered the recipe just a bit, by racheting up the ground ginger, racheting down the ground cloves, adding a smidgen of salt, and omitting the almonds entirely. I also revised the instructions slightly. They indicate, for eg., that you should use a rolling pin cover and a pastry cloth--I assume because of the stickiness of the dough. I don't know about you, but I don't routinely use those items, and though I own a rolling pin cover I don't even remember where it is!

The ice cream recipe came from the book Ice Cream and Frozen Yogurt, by Gar and Mable Hoffman, and it couldn't possibly be simpler. The only thing I'd do differently, if I were to make this recipe again, would be to strain the liquid ice cream mixture before it goes into the fridge to chill.

Pumpkin Ice Cream

(For a printable version of this recipe, and the ginger cookie recipe below, click here!)

16 oz. of canned pumpkin
1 cup brown sugar, packed (I used light brown)
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp. ground nutmeg (I used fresh grated nutmeg)
1/4 tsp. ground ginger
1 cup half & half
1/2 tsp. grated orange zest
2 cups heavy cream

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl. Chill or freeze according to your specific ice cream maker's instructions. (For the KitchenAid attachment, I chilled the liquid for at least a full day in a glass bowl before churning it in the ice cream attachment; then I poured that into a glass container, covered it, and froze that for a full day before serving it. It gets very firm.)

Crispy Ginger Cookies

3 cups All Purpose flour
1 and 1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 and 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 tsp. ground ginger
1/2 tsp. ground cloves
1/2 cup well-chilled heavy cream
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup dark corn syrup

In a medium bowl combine the flour, baking soda, spices, and salt. Set aside.

In a small/medium bowl with an electric mixer, beat the heavy cream until it just forms firm peaks. Set aside.

In a large mixer bowl, with the paddle attachment, beat the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy. On low speed, add in the corn syrup and the whipped cream, beating just until combined.

Add the flour mixture and beat until well combined.

Form the dough into a disk, and chill it in the fridge overnight, or in the freezer for an hour or so. Preheat your oven to 400 degrees and line your cookie sheets with parchment paper.

Cut the dough into quarters and work with one section at a time, keeping the others in the fridge while you work. If you want to use cookie cutters, roll out the dough to about 1/4" thickness, space the cookies at least 2" inches apart, and bake for about 7 minutes.

If you'd prefer not to use cutters, use a small scoop to portion your cookie dough. Dip the dampened bottom of a glass in sugar and press that into the top of the cookies to flatten them a bit. They'll spread out quite a bit on the pan. Bake them for about 7 minutes.

Let your cookies cool on the pan until they seem stiff enough to move to cooling racks.

Yummy with milk, or how about with pumpkin ice cream?


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Fresh Cranberry Kuchen . . . a Coffeecake that's Worth the Wait!

They're unimposing little berries, firm and shiny. We find them fresh on market shelves only in the fall, for a couple of months. Kind of easy to forget about them the rest of the year. Oh, they pop up now and then in dried form, in salads or maybe in something like biscotti, but that's not quite the same. I think absence probably makes the heart grow fonder with an elusive fruit like this one. They play hard to get, not through any fault of their own, but just by their very nature, quite literally.

Why do we seem to suddenly care for them so much in autumn? Is it just a superficial attachment? Or is it that their mere presence reminds us of those elaborate and boisterous Thanksgiving dinners that were such an integral part of the holiday mosaic when we were kids? Perhaps. I don't recall my mother ever cooking with them, though. Oddly, we always had the jellied cranberry sauce from a can, the kind that would wobble out onto a plate like a toddler losing his footing on a patch of ice. I say "oddly," because just about every other item on the table would have been prepared from scratch, without a doubt. Why not homemade cranberry sauce too? Hmmm . . . another one of life's great mysteries that must go unsolved.

Well, getting to the point of this post, I've been on the hunt lately for a really good cranberry coffeecake recipe. As you may know, I made one last weekend that didn't work out well at all, so I tried a new one yesterday. This kuchen is a German coffeecake that I found on AllRecipes.com. I like this particular site a lot because of its format (easy on the eyes, not too crowded with extraneous junk, simple to navigate so there's no frustration factor) and the fact that there are usually several really constructive readers' comments associated with each promising recipe (they're not all promising, but many are). This recipe is credited within AllRecipes to a contributor named Linda Bright and she notes, "This German coffee cake has been served at family breakfasts for more than five generations. There is no recipe requested more by our large family." So, I figured if five generations craved it, that's a strong enough recommendation for me.

It's made with a yeast dough, but one that's not in the least intimidating. You don't have to knead it, you don't have to roll it out, you don't even have to pray or curse or throw anything. Isn't that great? Yeah, I know. Basically, no panicking involved whatsoever. My kind of yeast recipe.

It's not all that attractive in the assembly stage, and when it came out of the oven my first thought was, "Gosh, that looks like the top of a cheese pizza . . . is that how it's supposed to look?" I wondered this because the top doesn't brown especially evenly, like a regular cake would. It was fine though, and tastes very good.

I plan to continue the quest for interesting cranberry recipes this fall. They're incredibly good for you, you know, and I love their sweet-tartness. Those babies are stuffed with antioxidants, and it's no wives' tale that they help prevent UTI's (that would be the dreaded urinary tract infection, ladies). Plus, there are only 46 calories in a cup of raw, fresh berries (not that you'd want to eat them raw--way too tart!). Researchers even believe there's a component in cranberries that can help prevent cavities! Who knew? Crazy, isn't it? But in a good way.

The only thing I didn't like about this recipe was that it made a truckload of dirty bowls and utensils. (It's the kind of recipe that makes you want to write a love poem to your high-capacity dishwasher.) The only thing of any real substance that I've changed about the recipe is to cut it in half. The version on AllRecipes makes two 9" x 13" pans, and unless you've got about 14 kids, I don't recommend having two pans of this stuff at your disposable--too dangerous, because it's too good.


Cranberry Kuchen

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9" x 13" x 2" pan.

1 package active dry yeast (2 and 1/4 tsp.)
1/8 cup warm water (105 degrees to 115 degrees)
1/2 cup warm milk (110 to 115 degrees F)
1/8 cup unsalted butter, softened
1/8 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 of one large beaten egg
1 and 3/4 cups All-Purpose flour

CRANBERRY SAUCE:
1 cup water
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries (I used fresh)

EGG MIXTURE:
4 eggs, large
6 Tbsp. evaporated milk
6 Tbsp. granulated sugar

TOPPING:
1 cup All-Purpose flour
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup cold unsalted butter

In a large mixing bowl, dissolve the yeast in warm water. Add the warm milk, butter, sugar, salt, egg and 1 cup of flour. Beat until smooth. Stir in enough remaining flour to form a soft dough. Do not knead. Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.


For the cranberry sauce, in a saucepan, bring water and sugar to a boil. Add cranberries. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from the heat; set aside. (I put mine in the fridge for a while, in a clean bowl, to help it cool a bit.)


For the egg mixture, in a medium bowl combine the eggs, evaporated milk, and sugar; beat well.


Pour half of the egg mixture into your greased 13-in. x 9-in. x 2-in. baking pan. Set the remaining egg mixture aside.


Punch the dough down, and dump it into your pan, right on top of the egg mixture. Pat the dough out over the whole length and width of the pan. It will look kind of messy and gross (see the photo below).


Spoon the cranberry sauce evenly over the dough. Drizzle with the remaining egg mixture.


For the topping, combine the flour and sugar in a bowl. Cut in the cold butter until crumbly. (You can always do this step when the dough is rising, to get it out of the way, if you'd rather not do it at the end). Sprinkle mixture evenly over the top.



Bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes or until lightly browned. (See, it kinda looks like a pizza, doesn't it?)

Cool on a wire rack. Serve warm or cold.


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If you liked this, you might also like . . .
-- Cherry Streusel Coffeecake
-- Cinnamon Streusel Cake

When All Else Fails, Bake Your Favorite Banana Bread . . .

My baking objective this past Saturday was to make a simple, tasty, and relatively wholesome cranberry coffee-cake. I found what looked to be a promising recipe on the King Arthur website (a site which, as you may know, I just love). I usually have great luck with any recipes I find there, but I'm afraid the coffee-cake gods were not smiling on me last Saturday.

I don't know if it was me (did I screw something up?) or the recipe itself, but what I imagined and anticipated didn't materialize in the oven. In fact, on a scale of 1 to 10, I'd give that recipe maybe a 4 . . . or perhaps a 5 if I were feeling disturbingly generous. It's called "Yogurt Cranberry Coffee-Cake," and it sounded good, in any event. The recipe contains plain yogurt, whole-cranberry sauce, and all the other typical sorts of ingredients one would expect. Nothing unusual. I had no reason to expect it would bomb, but bomb it did.

Besides being unattractive, the finished product somehow managed to completely overwhelm any cranberry flavor. A slice of this coffee-cake was just a hunk of undifferentiated sweetness with no character whatsoever. All in all, a disappointment. There weren't even any redeeming factors in the texture, nor in the color for that matter. See how it looks in the picture below . . . it's not a pretty cake, is it? No, not pretty.

Is there a chink in King Arthur's armor? Is it even possible? I don't know. I doubt it. I can't bear the thought. But in the photo on their site, the cake looks wonderful . . . light colored, finely textured . . . what gives? Was it me who botched it, or was it them? I guess we'll never know. And, heck, I'm not sure I want to know the answer to that anyway. Some days it just seems better not to know. (Sticking my ostrich-like head in the sand now . . . please excuse me.)

Moving on . . .

In situations like this, sometimes the only thing you can do to restore your shaken confidence is to bake something that's never let you down, a recipe as reliable and predictable as Old Faithful itself. One such recipe, for me, is from that venerable red and white Betty Crocker Picture Cookbook, published about a zillion years ago. You know the one? That friendly, three-ring bindered legend was a mainstay in my house as a kid. How it survived the decades, given its heavy use, I haven't a clue.

Here's a very representative quote from the book, typed just as it appears (emphasis is theirs): "Measure as Exactly as a Druggist measures a doctor's prescription! Two minutes spent measuring carefully can save you hours of grief." Isn't that just the cutest (albeit predictably patronizing) admonition to not-screw-up that anyone could concoct? The book is crammed full of that stuff. It's priceless, as are the poignantly archaic food photos. I sincerely love it.

I still make a recipe or two from it now and then, but the one I return to quite regularly is for banana bread. In the book, it's listed on page 81 as a variation on their "key recipe" (there's even a picture of a little key) for "Fruit Loaf." I sometimes tweak it slightly here and there, but not enough to corrupt the sanctity of the original formula. Anyway, here it is for you below, with mini-chocolate chips thrown in for extra oomph, along with a pinch of cinnamon and a teaspoon of vanilla extract tossed in for good measure. I don't typically add any nuts, but you can certainly do that if you like. I've reworded the very simple directions, so as not to put off 21st century bakers who've yet had no exposure to ancient tomes like this one.

It's a nice, moist, flavorful bread and my three resident men-folk (well, two of them are still boy-folk, technically) like it also.

Banana Bread, with Mini-Chocolate Chips (or not)

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9" x 5" x 3" loaf pan.

2/3 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup soft shortening (ie., Crisco)
2 eggs, large
3 Tbsp. sour milk or buttermilk
1 cup mashed banana (the recipe can handle more than one cup, so don't worry if you've got a bit of extra mashed banana . . . just throw it in)
2 cups All Purpose flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup mini-chocolate chips (and/or chopped nuts, etc.)

In a medium bowl, combine the flour, baking powder and soda, and salt.

In a large bowl, mix together thoroughly (by hand--you don't need to use a mixer), the sugar, shortening, and eggs. Stir into that the mashed banana and the sour milk/buttermilk.

Add the dry ingredients into the wet mixture and stir just to combine. Pour in the chocolate chips and stir just to combine. Don't over-mix the batter.

Pour the batter into your prepared pan, and sprinkle the top with sanding sugar or granulated sugar if you like. Bake for about 45 minutes or even up to an hour (seems to me it depends upon the amount and texture of your bananas . . . the riper and softer they are, and the more you put in, the longer the bread takes to bake), until golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out relatively clean. If the bread is browning in the oven too quickly, be sure to cover it loosely with foil at any point.

Remove from the oven and place on a rack. Remove the bread from the pan after a few minutes and let it cool completely on a rack. Slices best when it's cold, but it is good served warm or cold, and tastes even better the second day.


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If you like this recipe, you might also like:

Whole Wheat Peach Bread
Coconut Bread, and Coconut-Lime Bread with Sweet Lime Glaze
Sour Cream Zucchini Bread
Pear Bread with Dried Cherries & Ginger