Loaf Cake

This recipe could almost be labeled a health bread, except that it tastes too good. It’s packed with a generous quantity of bananas, plus an assortment of mix-and-match dried fruit. Spread the bread with any of our fruit butters (pages 270–272) and serve at a fall or winter brunch.

Banana bread was one of the great rewards for not eating all the bananas Mom bought for our lunch boxes. This hearty loaf is full of crimson berries and pecan chunks. When sliced and served in a napkin-lined basket, it rounds out any brunch. Leftovers are equally good for breakfast the next day. You can also bake the batter in muffin pans.

A long hot summer with just the right amount of rain will create a situation of disastrous consequences—too much zucchini in the garden. Zucchini is prolific. You and your family can eat it every night. You can leave bags of zucchini at the front doors of all your neighbors. You can give it away to strangers. But the plants relentlessly continue to produce more and more. At a certain point in midsummer, you will notice your neighbors crossing to the other side of the street when they see you, and the postman conspicuously looking the other way as he deposits your mail. So, when you have too much zucchini in your garden, make a few loaves of this homestyle quickbread. No one can turn away from freshly baked bread.

We always have bananas in our house, and therefore, we always seem to have a few that are too ripe to eat. What better way to use them up than to turn them into banana bread? Don’t let the color throw you. You can use bananas that are still all yellow, but you’ll need to mash them with a fork first to break them up. I actually prefer to use the ones that have a lot of brown spots or that are even almost totally black because they are very soft and mix in easily.

For some reason, whenever I’m interviewed, the question always arises: “What would be your last meal?” Or, sometimes it’s: “If you were stranded on a deserted island . . .” I find both to be rather morbid questions—who wants to think about their last meal or being stranded on a deserted island?—and I never quite know how to respond. But if I had to list the things that I couldn’t live without, I’d say chocolate and fried chicken. The third food in my holy trinity is passion fruit. If you haven’t tasted passion fruit, this pound cake is the perfect introduction. If I’m ever stranded on a deserted tropical island, I might get lucky and find a few vines of passion fruit and perhaps some cocoa pods, but I won’t hold out much hope for getting any fried chicken.

To boost the reputation of the much-maligned fruitcake, I wanted to create a version quite different from those sticky, oversweet loaves riddled with iridescent fruit and soggy pecans. This recipe was my answer: an exceptionally moist loaf, chockablock with freshly toasted nuts, perky dried cherries, and a double wallop of chocolate flavor, courtesy of cocoa powder and lots of chocolate chips. I was glad that my modern-tasting fruitcake made converts out of those who tried it. But I didn’t expect that so many would want to give it a traditional soaking of spirits to preserve the cake. I set to work and experimented a few times, but I had a hunch that something was amiss when I noticed some movement underneath the gauze wrapping. I unwrapped the cake and . . . well, let’s just say I discovered I was only one of the many creatures who enjoy this fruitcake. That was the end of my experiments. Instead, I just use kirsch-flavored glaze that can be added at the last minute.

This is the best vegan banana bread ever—super moist and deliciously sweet from the dates.

My French friend Christèle was kind enough to share her recipe for gâteau au yaourt. I have adapted it here to be allergen-free, but it doesn’t suffer one bit. The beauty of this recipe is in its simplicity. It is easy, fast, and clean. You use the yogurt container (called “measure” in the recipe) as a measuring tool. Feel free to experiment with adding additional flavors to this cake, such as lemon or orange zest, or more rum, brandy, or cardamom. It’s a great basic template to play with.

This outrageous breakfast bread was introduced to Crystal when she was at her dear friend Amy’s home. It was one of those scenarios where you have room for only one piece, yet end up taking the loaf home! Amy told Crystal that her mom and her mom’s friend Janie made this recipe often when Amy was growing up. When they had passed, Amy inherited her mom’s recipe book, which included several copies of this recipe, in both her mom’s and Janie’s handwritings. Amy has taken to making it every holiday for her family and friends. Baking and sharing this delicious bread with the rest of the family is the ultimate way to honor their memories and their special friendship.

Nothing ever went to waste in my house. If bananas got too brown, we knew banana bread was on its way. In fact, I couldn’t wait for the bananas to go brown! I happily made my family’s recipe for years, until the day I tasted my friend Teri Hatcher’s banana bread on the set of Desperate Housewives. She’s our unofficial on-set baker, and her philosophy on banana bread is “the more booze, the better the bread.” This version is like using bananas Foster to make banana bread. The flavor is fantastic and it’s the moistest I’ve ever made or tasted.

Pork is a natural pairing for anything apple. More like a slightly sweet bread than a dessert, Big Mama’s Apple Nut Cake is perfect with any pork main course, although it can also be served to end the meal. It can be made either in a loaf pan or in a traditional tube pan, depending on how you plan to serve it. The spiced fruit aroma this cake emits made it one of Big Mama’s favorites. With six kids and Big Bob to look after, she was entitled to a little aromatherapy. Because it was not overly sweet, the kids were allowed to snack on it during the day. After viewing this recipe I asked Ruth, the youngest daughter of the Gibson clan, what kind of nuts should be used. She said the nut of choice was either hicka nuts or scaly barks, two varieties you are unlikely to find at your local grocer. “Hicka nuts” is turn-of-the-century Southern country slang for hickory nuts, and “scaly barks” are the nut from the shagbark hickory tree. Hickory nuts are tough to crack, and getting the meat out is very difficult, but they must be superior in flavor because Big Mama would walk past three pecan trees to get to the scaly barks. You can substitute whatever nut you prefer.

The classic combination of chocolate cake, cherries, and cream found in the traditional Black Forest cake was our inspiration for this cream’wich. In the summertime, fresh cherries can be used in lieu of dried. As is true of all of our ice cream sandwiches, we advise that you make them at least a short while in advance of when you want to serve them. Otherwise, the ice cream tends to squeeze out the sides.

We used pears in this ice cream’wich, but many other fruits would work well, too, such as apples, figs, or peaches. Because the fruit is poached, it won’t harden in the same way that raw fruit does when it is frozen. And not to worry if you do not like rum: you can simply leave it out of the ice cream recipe, yielding a simple and tasty vanilla ice cream.

Here, the brittle adds the excitement to the ice cream sandwich by providing the crunch. But don’t add the brittle too far in advance, as it will begin to dissolve into the ice cream. If pecans are not your favorite, you can substitute a nut that’s more to your liking.

Those of you who don’t have food sensitivities and are reading this cookbook simply to improve your general health should be applauded. I know how easy it is to be tricked into thinking that the low-fat glazed gingerbread in the display is healthy when you pick up your morning coffee at the local deli. I implore you, do not let your pre-caffeine fog steer you wrong! Make a loaf of this simple gingerbread over the weekend, slice it, and store it in your freezer for the week so you can grab yourself a piece on your way out the door. The pumpkin purée makes the bread so moist and fresh you can snack on it for days. As a reward for your foresight, consider slathering a thick layer of Vanilla Frosting (page 91) on top. I would!

Lemon can be a baker’s best friend or her worst enemy. Often it tastes less like fresh-squeezed lemonade and more like a 15-cent lollipop. Achieving the perfect balance of lemon flavor in this teacake was a long and arduous journey; fresh lemon juice toys with the acidity in the batter, causing it to rise and fall unpredictably, while the rind on its own has a mousy presence at best. I tried everything from the yellow squeeze bottles of sugar-pumped citric acid to preserved lemons to lemon oil—everything short of boiled-down Lemonheads. Eventually I found that if you grate lemon rind into the batter with a generous helping of a high-quality lemon extract (I prefer Frontier’s product), you end up with a uniform, easy-to-manage batter that maximizes the lemon flavor while downplaying its domineering nature. Add the subtle nuttiness and earthy texture of poppy seeds, and you’ve stumbled onto a marriage unequaled since Luke and Laura’s.

Until the bagel made its way across the San Diego County border from the East Coast and nudged its way into our bread box in the early 1980s, my mother’s breakfast staple was a toasted slice of cinnamon-swirl bread, which she nibbled while sipping her morning coffee and skimming Dave Barry’s latest effort. It was the only personal time we allowed her, however begrudgingly, and the scene is indelibly etched in my mind. In tribute to Mom, I came up with the apple-cinnamon toastie, now and forever a must-have on the bakery menu. Because it has a great crumb and is not too sweet, it’s perfect for toasting and slathering with your favorite spread. Martha Stewart (yes, that one) liked it so much she asked me to teach her to make it. On her show!

When my aunt Cathy dropped by our house for a visit and tea, she was always packing a loaf of banana bread baked at her restaurant, Harry’s Coffee Shop, in La Jolla, California. Under her strong encouragement, I’d chow piece after piece until I’d scarfed nearly an entire loaf. “It’s good for her!” she’d say as my mother looked on in slight horror. And I believed her. I mean, banana bread? Come on! Eating that pillowy deliciousness was like getting extra-credit points for free. Of course, in adulthood I discovered that this supposed health bread, like everything else tasty, was virtually a heart attack in loaf form. Butter? Eggs? Bleached flour? Sugar?! Aunt Cathy, take note: Below is how you do it while sparing yourself—and your behind—the grief. If you’d like to take this recipe to the next level, include 1 cup of chocolate chips when you add the banana. You will not be sorry.

So this, my finale, is the ultimate in Everyday Italian cooking. Sure, there’s some cheating involved—I’m not asking you to bake a pound cake. But this distinct combination of Italian flavors will transport you to a piazza-side café, nibbling this great dessert, sipping espressos, and people-watching, instead of struggling in the kitchen for hours upon end. That’s been my goal in this book. I hope I’ve succeeded

A slice of this chocolate-ribboned cake served on a tray with a cup of hot cocoa, a glass of chilled juice, and a boiled egg, accompanied by a newspaper and a little flower in a vase, will please the soul of any chocolate lover lying in bed. Not so sure? Add a chocolate glaze (see Glaze of the Gods, page 118) and you’ll be guaranteed entry into the boudoir of chocolate heaven.