The price list was written in purple gel pen on the back of a manila folder, and it said, in its entirety: Banana Bread, $1 a slice. Homemade. Thank you! Nora taped it to the front of a card table at 6:45 last Saturday morning, set out three plates of wrapped slices and the gray cash box she'd borrowed from my classroom closet, and sat down in a folding chair like she'd been doing this for thirty years.
It was our church's yard sale, the one where half the congregation hauls out their garages onto the parking lot and the other half buys it. Nora asked back in July if she could have a table. She's eleven, she had started sixth grade that Wednesday, and she wanted her own money for a set of cake-decorating tips. I said yes on one condition: she runs it like a business. I teach a budgeting unit to middle schoolers every spring, and my own child was not getting a pass.
The deal
She paid for her ingredients. She bought the bananas herself, the brown-speckled ones off the markdown rack at Kroger, which was the smartest thing she did all week. Very ripe bananas make better banana bread for a real reason: as a banana ripens, the starch in it turns to sugar, so a spotted, nearly black banana is sweeter and softer and mashes almost to syrup. A yellow banana makes a bland, dry loaf. The rest she paid me back for at what I'd paid: flour, brown sugar, butter and a box of sandwich bags. Deb next door gave her a dozen eggs and took her payment in banana bread. Her costs came to $13.
The test loaf
She baked a test loaf on Tuesday night, and it sank. The top looked done, the toothpick came out mostly clean, and twenty minutes later the middle caved into a gummy stripe. Banana bread is heavy and wet, and the center runs well behind the edges. We fixed it two ways. She tented foil over the pan at 40 minutes so the top wouldn't brown before the middle caught up, and she used my instant-read thermometer: the center should read 200 to 205°F. She'd been looking for an excuse to use that thermometer all summer.
Ingredients
- 3 very ripe bananas, heavily spotted (about 1 1/2 cups mashed)
- 1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, melted
- 3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
- 2 large eggs
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
- 1 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
- 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
That's one 9x5 loaf. Nora made three separate batches rather than one big bowl, which is easier on the arm and keeps the mixing gentle.
How she makes it
- Heat the oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x5 loaf pan and lay a strip of parchment across it with the ends hanging over, so the loaf lifts right out.
- Mash the bananas in a big bowl with a fork until mostly smooth. Stir in the melted butter, brown sugar, eggs and vanilla.
- Sprinkle the baking soda, salt and cinnamon over the top and stir them in, then add the flour and fold just until you can't see any dry flour.
- Scrape into the pan and bake 55 to 65 minutes, tenting with foil at 40 minutes. It's done when a toothpick in the center comes out with a few moist crumbs, not wet batter, and the center reads 200 to 205°F.
- Cool in the pan 15 minutes, then lift it out and cool completely on a rack before wrapping.
Make-ahead: she baked Thursday and sliced Friday night. A cold loaf cuts much cleaner than a warm one. Wrapped well, it keeps three days on the counter or three months in the freezer. Half a cup of chopped pecans or chocolate chips folds in fine, but she kept it plain so she'd only have to answer one question.
The sale
Each loaf became eighteen half-inch slices, measured with a ruler, because she is my daughter. Every slice went into its own sandwich bag. She thought about charging $1.50 and settled on a dollar because, in her words, "yard sale people don't want to make change." She was right. By 9:30 the first two plates were gone. Jack bought a slice with quarters he'd dug out of the couch, and she charged him full price.
The last slice sold just before 11. Fifty-four slices at a dollar is $54, minus her $13 in costs, for a clear $41. She counted it twice at the kitchen table, put $10 in an envelope marked NEXT TIME without being asked, and I had to leave the room for a minute so she wouldn't see my face.
She's already talking about the next table. I told her to start with the price list.
