Banana Bread Brownies

I believe desserts are a public service. Also that brownies are therapy, and if you put bananas in them I will marry them, or at least invite them over for coffee. The internet is screaming about mash-ups again (always), so here I am, in the middle of the night, emotionally compromised and armed with two very ripe bananas, making Banana Bread Brownies because balance is a myth and also because they are delicious.

I’ll say straight away: this is not your dad’s banana bread and it is not your grandma’s fudgiest brownie. It’s their chaotic child—moist, chocolatey, but with that tiny banana whisper that makes you suspiciously proud. If you want the OG recipes, you can compare notes with my other experiments like my banana chocolate chip cookie knockoff, but don’t tell them I said that. Fine. Tell them.

How I Totally Screwed These Up (More Than Once)

First attempt smelled like sadness. Like burnt sugar pretending to be sophisticated. I used a bowl meant for soup (yes, the big one with the chip) and somehow ended up with a thin, almost cake-like sheet that sang when I tapped it. Not the kind of singing you want from baked goods. There was a weird squeak—maybe the pan? Or my dignity. The second try was gloopy; the bananas were chunkier because I was in a hurry and I wanted to be artisan but it tasted like a mushy banana guilt trip. Also someone (not naming names, it was me) forgot the baking soda and we ate something that resembled an unbaked experiment. Texture crimes. Smells of overripe banana, cocoa dust, and passive-aggressive butter. I learned things. Slowly. With tears that may or may not have been from onion chopping earlier. Who knows.

Why This Version Finally Behaves (Mostly)

So what changed? I stopped trying to force it into either category—no insistence on being pure banana bread, no fury at not being fudgy enough. I accepted middle ground, which is maybe the adult decision we all ignore until dessert forces our hand. Practically: I measured (a miracle), I melted the butter properly, and I let the bananas be the quiet supporting actor they were intended to be. Emotionally: I lowered my expectations and raised my oven rack (not metaphorically, literally). The recipe now produces a moist slab with cracked top and pockets of chocolate if you decide to stir them in. I still doubt myself sometimes (always), but these Banana Bread Brownies come out predictable in the best way: reliably comfort-y, with a flirt of banana. If you want to nerd out about texture, sure—gluten development, fat distribution, blah—but also just eat one.

Ingredients

• 2 medium-sized ripe bananas
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1/4 cup brown sugar (packed)
• 1/2 cup unsalted butter (melted)
• 2 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup chocolate chips (optional)

Budget-friendly, soft crumb, and easy swaps if chocolate chips are scarce (yes, frozen berries are a weird but sometimes pleasant detour—use at your own risk and curiosity).

Cooking Unit Converter

If you hate guessing whether your cup looks like mine, convert it—because consistency is literally science.

How to Make Them (But Let Me Interrupt You)

• Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease the 9×9 inch baking pan or line it with parchment paper for easy removal.
• In a mixing bowl, mash the ripe bananas with a fork until smooth.
• Add the granulated sugar, brown sugar, and melted butter to the mashed bananas. Mix well until combined.
• Beat in the eggs and vanilla extract until everything is well incorporated.
• In a separate bowl, whisk together the all-purpose flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt.
• Gradually fold the dry ingredients into the banana mixture using a rubber spatula until just combined.
• If using, gently fold in the chocolate chips.
• Pour the batter into the prepared baking pan and spread it evenly.
• Bake in the preheated oven for 25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out mostly clean (a few moist crumbs are okay).
• Let the brownies cool in the pan for about 10 minutes before transferring them to a wire rack to cool completely.

Also: don’t overmix. I mean it. Sometimes I forget and remind myself via chewy disappointment. Pro tip that I learned after crying over the oven: let them rest so the crumb sets—patience, yes, but also because hot brownies have feelings (and will fall apart if you rush them). TRUST ME. Or don’t. I can’t force you.

Do You Ever Just Use This to Feed Your Feelings?

Do you ever eat half the pan because it’s there? Be honest. I assume yes. Who am I kidding—this is meant to be shared, or hoarded, whichever you do. Have you left the pan on the counter and pretended it was for guests? Guilty. Do your kids/staff/roommate think this is banana bread or something chocolaty? They will argue semantics while I silently judge them for not stealing a piece sooner. Also: if you want a breakfast twist, these work shockingly well with morning coffee. Don’t pretend you won’t try it at 7 AM on a Tuesday when reality is extra.

Also if you liked the texture here but want to go full cinnamon-roll drama at dawn, try pairing techniques from my decadent banana cinnamon rolls experiment—totally different vibe, same emotional cost.

I don’t know why I get so sentimental about mashed bananas. Maybe it’s the childhood thing, maybe it’s that sweet spot between bread and dessert that feels like forgiveness. Or maybe it’s that I am perpetually hungry and this is a neat loophole. Either way, if you make these—tell me what went wrong and what went right. Or don’t. I’ll assume you ate them in the car. Also, if you want another version that’s essentially cookies but also morally ambiguous, I have notes somewhere, probably hidden under a tray of crumbs. Okay I’m off to slice one more piece before anyone notices and then I’ll decide if I should save the rest or—

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