I have to admit, right off the bat, that I was excited for this recipe. Maybe “excited” isn’t strong enough of a word. I was hysterical for it. I was insane over it. I woke up in the morning, pushed back the covers and I thought, “Today, I am finally going to make Peanut Butter Bread!” It was a great moment. I felt like the world was in complete balance. The birds outside my window were even singing. In harmony.

With my cats.


Okay, so maybe I might of got myself a teensy worked up over this one. Maybe raised my hopes to a ridiculous degree. Inflated expectations a little too much. It’s understandable, after all. Out of Alaskas Kitchens001

This recipe is from a special book.

Out of Alaskas Kitchens002

It’s from a special book called Out of Alaska’s Kitchens. It’s from a special book called Out of Alaska’s Kitchens that my 99-year-old great aunt recently presented me with when we visited her on our trip to Las Vegas.


A book she got when she lived in Alaska in 1958.

If you are a collector (*cough* hoarder!) of vintage recipes, the recipes with the family connections are by far the best ones. I am pretty sure it doesn’t get much more special than that.


So, yeah, you can’t really blame me.

And then this happened, which made me even more excited:


Yeah, that’s right! The dough looked like peanut butter cookie dough!

I mean, I couldn’t taste it to find out if it tasted like peanut butter cookies because, well,  everyone knows that Tom tastes the food for the first time.  If I tasted it first and made a face, it would give Tom an unfair advantage. Right?

So, in my mind, I pretended  that I had tasted it. And that it tasted like peanut butter cookie dough.


Now, anyone who is an experienced baker, or really, any kind of baker, can already see that this recipe has problems. There is only 1/3 cup a sugar in this whole thing. There is no butter. There are no eggs. And it was supposed to make two loaves, I think, since the recipe mentioned loaf tins, plural. That is not very much of anything in terms of ingredients, especially sugar. Certainly not enough for one loaf, let alone two.

But, humming to myself and thinking of birds and cats and delicious Peanut Butter Bread, I went ahead  with my baking and crammed all the batter into one pan.

“Do you think this batter will go over the side of the pan?”

Tom shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea.”

“Maybe I should split it up?”

“Why? If it overflows, then hilarity will ensue. I am sure the blog readers will love it.”

“I suppose, but I would hate to look like an idiot.”

“Then why do you keep humming that stupid song?”



Well, hilarity didn’t ensue in the form of overflowing bread. The bread baked up quite nicely. I didn’t even need my emergency drip pan.


I even liked the texture. Can you see how moist it turned out? I was extra pleased with that.

However, I should have been more worried about the sugar.


“This is HORRIBLE!”

“No!” I was still in denial. The birds in my head were still singing. It could still be perfect. I grabbed up a piece of bread and took a big bite.

It was horrible. At least, as any type of peanut butter cookie.  I should have known by just the ingredients that this was not a decadent dessert type of bread. Or dessert at all. Reading the recipe without the sparkles in my eyes, I can tell this was a utilitarian sandwich bread. Probably from the Depression. It required the minimum amount of ingredients and it churned out something that was recognizable as bread.

The Verdict: Pretty gross on it’s own. It really didn’t even have good enough taste to be a savory bread. If I was making this again, which I probably won’t, I would either add more salt and season it and give in to savory, OR I would add a half stick of butter, up the sugar to a cup, add vanilla, sprinkle sugar on the top and call it cookie bread.