2 to 3 very ripe bananas
1 teaspoon baking soda
Pinch of salt
3/4 cup sugar
1 egg, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract. Alcoholic, like your wife, Sarah.
1-1/2 cups of all-purpose flour. It has purpose, unlike you.
1. Preheat the oven to 175. Cry when it stops working because you scrimped on it, even though Sarah warned you not to.
2. In a mixing bowl, mash the ripe bananas with a spoon. Wonder why Sarah is only just coming in now, and why didn't say she was going to be late getting home. Stir the melted butter into the mashed bananas.
3. Mix in the baking soda and salt. Stir in the sugar, beaten egg, and vanilla extract. Ask Sarah where she was and why she didn't let you know. Mix in the flour. Have the kitchen door slammed in your face by your wife, who seems very touchy about it all. Suspicious.
4. Pour the batter into your pre-prepared pan. What? You didn't prep the pan? Fucking moron. Guess you'd better go through your wife's phone to see if she's having an affair while searching for it. She has a password. Shit. Bake for 50 minutes to 1 hour at 175, or until you've remembered her birth date for the code to get in.
5. Remove from oven and let cool in the pan for a few minutes. You're in. Remove the banana bread from the pan and let cool completely before serving. Mentally prepare yourself to confront Sarah over the texts to Roger about serving him her 'Special Pie' at 2AM. Slice and serve. She's coming in. Oh, for fuck's sake. She's brought your daughter, Lucy. This is going to be a long one. Still, at least you won't be hungry.