Plain Jane
was supposed to be
the last one.
The name was a joke. A way to keep track of how many banana bread recipes a home baker had tried and failed to perfect. The plan was to stop at one. Then twelve. Then thirty-one. Then fifty.
The Baker
Renee
Adamson.
Renee has been baking since she was nine years old, when her grandmother handed her a bunch of overripe bananas and said “do something with those.” Two decades later, she's still doing something with them.
Fifty recipes' worth, to be exact.
She bakes every loaf herself, in her Franklin, KY kitchen, with the same oven she's had for twelve years. She will not tell you the brand.
The oven brand stays a secret. The process doesn't.
The Process
How it's made.
The banana test
Only bananas past the point of eating make the cut. Spotted, soft, nearly black. Renee can tell by smell alone.
The batter
Each shade has its own ratio. Some call for melted butter. Some call for browned butter. A few call for something she won't put in writing.
The bake
One oven. One temperature. One rack position. She's been baking long enough to know when a loaf is done before the timer.
Your pickup
Baked when you order. Never before. You come to Franklin, KY. You leave with something warm.
Franklin, Kentucky
Two centuries of standing still.
Founded on a primed well, divided by a war, visited by Johnny Cash, and briefly made famous by a UFO. Franklin has always been more interesting than it lets on.
Two centuries, one swipe.
Franklin, Kentucky
Home isn't a backdrop.
It's the ingredient.
Every loaf is made in Franklin. Picked up in Franklin. Eaten somewhere nearby, usually in the car, before you make it home.
Pick your shade






