It’s a Sunday afternoon, the remains of breakfast plates scattered on the table and Marr rumbling in the background on the television. Eggs were scrambled with far too much butter and salty smoked bacon grilled to a crisp. My avocado was a little disappointing, a murky pond water green but I drowned it in lime juice anyway. We lean back, eyes towards the television making vague plans for the day. I remembered the bananas on the counter I’d purchased earlier in the week, urging their skins to blacken for baking and announce I would make a banana loaf. When I bought the bananas, we both agreed that we had a distinct dislike for the texture and taste, yet could tolerate them in doorstop slices of a sweet loaf. The kitchen became mine and I baked in silence, tweaking and adding and scribbling down notes. The rain was coming down fast on Sunday, but the flat felt like it was warm with that loaf tin in the oven – the scent of sugar and banana and lemon filling the room.

It’s a happy place I’m in, a place where baking no longer feels like work after a busy couple of months spent on other projects, meaning my oven only met the same creations time and time again. To make time for a banana loaf felt indulgent. I sliced into it while it was still warm, each piece collapsing a little thanks to my impatience but I didn’t care. I ate hungrily, wrote the recipe from my baking shorthand and decided to share it on the blog. It’s a simple bake, the kind most of us enjoy, where one bowl is used and little washing up is required. I made this loaf a little more wholesome and with some bite thanks to wholemeal self raising flour and a good helping of poppy seeds. A little lift from the lemon brings a little sunshine, but the happiest thing is that it looks so good for you that it could be easily eaten for breakfast. I’d add this loaf gets better with age but I wouldn’t really know – it seems to have disappeared so quickly from the kitchen counter after just a couple of days.