001. Fresh starts and new beginnings

I’m writing this from the dining table of our house, on a quiet street in the north-west of St-Leonard’s-on-Sea. In front of me, the sun is shining down into the garden, although there’s — finally — a chill in the air, as there should be in mid-October.

The garden, like me, is undergoing a transformation. When we bought this house earlier this year, the steeply-sloping garden was barren: five tiers of concrete and paving. Now, my trust olive tree sits in a new, larger pot, happily sprouting, and I can see small green shoots of bulbs appearing in the motley collection of containers. Unless the foxes eat them, I should have a pot-garden of peonies, ranunculus, anemones and more in the spring.

The biggest job so far as been slowly clearing two entire tiers of their paving crusts to create some actual garden — you know, where you plant things in the ground and they grow? Later today, topsoil and compost will be delivered and I can finally prepare a second tier to be sown with a mix of grass seed and native meadow wildflowers. My garden is not going to be beautifully manicured like the amazing rockery of Joan-Next-Door, full of dahlias and fuschia, but I hope it will be beautiful.

It’s been a year of changes for me. In January, I started a new job after seven years at Vintage Books and we made the move out of London to live by the sea. I dearly miss the wonderful friends I used to see every day, my brilliant authors and clever colleagues, and it means I’m having to make a change in myself to consciously keep those friendships alive, something I’m usually terrible at.

I’m also having to pace myself: when I get stuck into something, it’s the only thing I want to do. I’m loving my new garden project but I find it deeply frustrating to have to leave it behind and do something else, and to wait to see progress. Similarly to the route I’ve taken in many aspects of my life, I have to remind myself that growth takes time and the efforts I make now will be clear to see in the future.

Something I’ve not done for a while is baking. I finally have a reliable oven that will hold a temperature so, now the weather’s getting colder again, I’m going to break out my old favourite: banana bread. The recipe I use is one I found online years ago, on an American recipe blog. I find it gives the perfect combination of an almost-caramelised sweet crust and a squidgey, brownie-like centre. Because I like you very much, I’m going to share it with you. Honestly, this is the perfect treat for an autumn evening.

Kate’s Borrowed Banana Bread

Equipment

• Two mixing bowls
• Weighing scales
• A measuring jug
• A wooden spoon for mixing — or a mixer!
• A medium-sized loaf tin (20x12.5cm is about right)
• A fine seive for sifting

Ingredients

• 285g plain flour
• 1 tsp bicarbinate of soda
• 1/2 tsp of salt
• 100g butter/non-dairy baking spread
• 225g caster sugar
• 2 eggs
• 4 ripe bananas, mashed
• 85ml buttermilk, or, if you don’t have that, 85ml of semi-skimmed/full-fat milk with 1 1/2 tsp of lemon juice added
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• Optional: I like to add a tsp of ground cinnamon plus a little nutmeg and cardamom, and of course you can chuck in chocolate chips, nuts or whatever else you fancy!

Method

• Preheat the oven to 180C / 350F / gas mark 4
• Sift the flour, bicarb and salt into a large bowl
• In the other bowl, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy
• To the butter and sugar, add the milk, mashed bananas, eggs and vanilla extract. Mix well until combined — this will look much too wet but don’t panic! — then gradually fold in the flour mixture to create a batter

At this point, a note from the editor: I actually put all the ingredients straight into my mixer, in this order: butter, sugar, eggs, milk, vanilla extract, mashed bananas, flour (a coffee scoop/spoonful at a time), bicarb, salt, and finally any extra spices.

• Grease your loaf tin and pour in the batter
• Pop the tin into your preheated oven, in the centre, and bake for around an hour or until well-risen and golden brown. It will smell amazing, I guarantee
• Remove from the oven and cool in the tin for a few minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack to cool before serving (although I always have the first slice while it’s still warm)

You’re welcome!

I love you, byee xx