[Recipe] Whole-Wheat Pumpkin Bread | Because It’s Tradition

“And so, Thanksgiving. It’s the most amazing holiday. Just think about it—it’s a miracle that once a year so many millions of Americans sit down to exactly the same meal as one another, exactly the same meal they grew up eating, and exactly the same meal they ate a year earlier. The turkey. The sweet potatoes. The stuffing. The pumpkin pie. Is there anything else we all can agree so vehemently about? I don’t think so.

This meal, with its glorious standards, is the thing that reassures us that we’re home (even if we’re not), that we’re a family (even if we don’t meet the standard definition), and that we’re Americans (even if we’re despondent over the mid-terms).”

— Nora Ephron

The year was 1998. My husband and I had been married for a year and we had just bought our first home together: a newly constructed duplex townhouse with colonial blue siding, a white picket fence, and a charming front porch, which stood out in great contrast to the other homes on the street, most of which were built in the 1800s. We were living in the quaint, historic town of Salem, Massachusetts, a stone’s throw from the sea and a short walk to the Salem Witch Museum and the House of the Seven Gables. For the first time in my life, I felt like a real, bona fide adult, with a real job and a real mortgage. And so, with that in mind (and perhaps also inspired by the quintessential New England town in which I was living), I decided that I should—I must!—host Thanksgiving dinner this year, just as my own mom had done all the years prior. That’s what adults do, right? I envisioned a big feast with all of my favorite Thanksgiving foods: turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, my mom’s famous sausage and mushroom stuffing, lots of vegetables, and, the most essential part of the menu—pumpkin bread!

For as long as I can remember, my mom hosted Thanksgiving at my childhood home in rural Pennsylvania every year. It was a large, boisterous get-together with my grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins, all gathered around our long dining room table. My mom would get up early on Thanksgiving morning to put the turkey in the oven, and I would eventually be awakened by the smell of roasting poultry, which would summon me to the kitchen. I’d open the refrigerator, and there it would be: an unassuming aluminum-foil-wrapped package, whose simplicity belied its contents. I’d place the package on the kitchen counter and slowly unwrap it. Beneath the aluminum foil was another layer of plastic wrap, and as I removed it, the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg and cloves would hit my nose and my mouth would start to water. I’d grab a knife from the drawer and cut a thick slice of the pumpkin bread, then place it on whatever plate was closest to me. I’d pop the bread in the oversized microwave that took up a sizable chunk of our kitchen counter, and I’d reheat it until it was slightly warmed through, which only intensified the intoxicating scent. And then, I’d gild the lily: I’d spread a good hunk of salted butter on the bread and retreat to the den, where I’d join my two younger sisters and watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade while happily stuffing my face with pumpkin bread.

This Thanksgiving morning tradition continued for many years. When I was younger, my pumpkin-bread breakfast was often followed by another annual ritual of sorts: the three of us girls sitting on the floor, excitedly browsing the 500-plus pages of the J.C. Penney and Sears Christmas catalogs and writing our wish lists to Santa—a fun way to pass the time until everyone arrived for our Thanksgiving feast. As I got older, when I’d come home for Thanksgiving from attending college in Boston, I discovered that my mom’s pumpkin bread paired especially well with coffee. And sometimes, if I begged enough (and no one ate it before I got to it), my mom would send me back to college with my very own loaf of pumpkin bread, and I’d get to enjoy that Thanksgiving feeling just a little bit longer back in my dorm room, and later, in my first apartment. So it should come as no surprise that the first thing I did when I decided to host my first Thanksgiving was email my mom and ask her for her pumpkin bread recipe. (The second thing I did? Ask her how to make everything else.)

I’ve been making that pumpkin bread every Thanksgiving for the past 18 (!) years, but because it’s not in my nature to leave a recipe alone, I’ve made little tweaks over the years, making it, in my humble opinion, even better (and slightly more healthful) than the original: I’ve replaced the white flour with whole-wheat flour, the buttermilk with yogurt, and the vegetable oil with olive oil; I’ve also decreased the amount of sugar—still delicious! And once I had kids and discovered that my boys love this pumpkin bread just as much as I do, I experimented some more and found that this recipe easily adapts into muffins, and the muffins freeze beautifully, providing another option for kid-friendly snacks. (I’ve also been known to add some dark chocolate chips to the muffins every so often, by special request.) So now I make this recipe not just at Thanksgiving but throughout the fall as well.

Even with the minor revisions, there’s still something about baking—and eating—that loaf of pumpkin bread at Thanksgiving that instantly transports me back to my childhood. In a few days, on Thanksgiving morning, I will unwrap the aluminum-foil-and-plastic-wrapped package, cut a thick slice for myself, heat it in the microwave, and slather the warm bread with butter. I will pour myself a cup of coffee and slowly savor that pumpkin bread while watching some of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on TV with my boys. This will be the last moment of calm before I start preparing Thanksgiving dinner. I will take a deep breath and inhale the smells of autumnal spices that remind me of those simple yet festive Thanksgivings with my parents, sisters, and relatives. That’s the thing with traditions, isn’t it? They give you something special to hold on to, even amidst constant change, even amidst growing up and getting older; they remind you of your heritage, your family, your roots.

So on Thanksgiving morning, when I polish off the last crumbs of pumpkin bread from my plate and gulp down one more cup of coffee to help energize me for the busy day ahead, I will be thinking of all of those Thanksgivings I spent in my childhood home so many years ago. I’ll be thinking of watching my mom prepare Thanksgiving dinner for our family, and how surreal it is to be doing it now for my own family. Soon enough, it will be time to get to work in the kitchen, and I will wrap up the rest of the loaf of pumpkin bread to share with our Thanksgiving dinner guests who will be arriving in a few hours. They’ll be expecting it too, because it’s tradition.

Whole-Wheat Pumpkin Bread

 

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I suppose this is where I’m supposed to tell you that roasting your own pumpkins and making your own pumpkin purée is so easy and that homemade purée tastes so much better than canned pumpkin. Well, I have made my own pumpkin purée only once, and honestly, I didn’t notice enough of a difference for it to be worth the extra effort. Although I am a champion of whole foods, I am not opposed to using canned foods for the sake of convenience if they are minimally processed and contain only a few recognizable ingredients. Canned pumpkin is one of those such foods: It contains just one ingredient—pumpkin!—and you always know what you’re going to get. Homemade pumpkin purée can sometimes be too watery and other times too thick, and this inconsistency can affect the results of your baked goods. So when I make pumpkin bread, I use canned pumpkin. That being said, you can certainly use your own homemade pumpkin purée in this recipe if you prefer. My only caution would be to make sure that its consistency is as close as possible to the canned stuff, so that you yield similar results.

This recipe makes 2 loaves of pumpkin bread, or about 30 muffins, but if you want to make only one loaf, you can certainly halve the ingredient amounts. Keep in mind, however, that the bread and muffins freeze very well.

One more note: I recently discovered that adding espresso powder to the batter makes this pumpkin bread extra delicious. However, I am the only coffee drinker in my house, so it’s a variation I make only when I’m serving the bread and/or muffins to other fellow coffee-lovers (especially those who are fans of pumpkin spice lattes). If you want to give it a try, add 2 tablespoons of instant espresso powder to the dry ingredients. (I’ve also had success with just dividing the prepared batter in half, whisking in 1 tablespoon of espresso powder into half of the batter, then making that batter into muffins just for me!)

Yield: Makes 2 loaves, or 1 loaf + 16 muffins, or about 30 muffins.

Author: Wholesome Family Kitchen

Ingredients

• -- Olive oil or nonstick cooking spray, for coating the pans
  
  
• -- 1 cup light-tasting olive oil *
• -- 1¾ cups natural cane sugar
• -- 4 eggs
• -- 1 (15-oz.) can unsweetened pumpkin purée
• -- 1⅓ cups plain yogurt (but not thick Greek yogurt)
• -- 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
  
  
• -- 3½ cups white whole-wheat flour **
• -- 2 teaspoons baking soda
• -- 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• -- ½ teaspoon ground cloves
• -- ½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
• -- ½ teaspoon salt
  
  
• -- 1 cup chopped walnuts (or 1½ cups dark chocolate chips, or some combination of the two)

Instructions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly coat two 9-by-5-inch loaf pans (and/or 2 or 3 standard-size 12-cup muffin pans ***) with olive oil or nonstick cooking spray.
2. In a large bowl, whisk together the olive oil and sugar until well combined. Add the eggs one at a time, whisking well after each addition. Add the pumpkin purée, yogurt, and vanilla extract; whisk together until smooth and well blended.
3. In another large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and salt.
4. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir until just combined. (Do not overmix!) Gently stir in the walnuts and/or chocolate chips.
5. Divide the batter evenly between the 2 prepared loaf pans, or among the prepared muffin pans. (I like to use a ¼-cup ice-cream scoop for scooping the batter into the muffin pans.)
6. Bake the loaves at 350 degrees for 45 to 60 minutes, or until a wooden skewer inserted into the center comes out clean. If the tops of the loaves are browning too quickly before they are baked through, lay a piece of aluminum foil over them. (For muffins, bake at 350 degrees for 15 to 20 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of one of the muffins in the middle of the pan comes out clean.) Cool in pans for 10 minutes, then turn the loaves (or muffins) out onto wire racks to cool completely before serving or storing.

Notes

To store: Wrap each loaf in plastic wrap and then in aluminum foil, and store in the refrigerator. (I’ve kept mine in the refrigerator for as many as 4 days, but they usually don’t last that long.) Bring to room temperature before serving, or slice and reheat individual slices in a warm oven or in the microwave. The pumpkin bread also freezes well, for up to 3 months: Wrap tightly in plastic wrap and then in aluminum foil, and then, for extra insurance, put inside a plastic resealable freezer bag. The muffins also freeze well stored in plastic resealable freezer bags (no multiple layers of plastic wrap and aluminum foil required).


* I recently discovered California Olive Ranch Mild and Buttery Extra-Virgin Olive Oil, and I have been using it with great success in many of my baking recipes that call for a light-tasting or neutral-flavored oil. It works especially well in this pumpkin bread, lending a buttery flavor without any actual butter. You can certainly use canola oil or another neutral-flavored oil in its place, but if you would like to use olive oil, be sure to use one that doesn’t have strong floral or grassy notes, unless you wouldn’t mind those flavors in your bread.


** White whole-wheat flour is my favorite flour to use when baking more-nutritious quick breads and other baked goods without sacrificing flavor or texture. Don’t be misled by its name; white whole-wheat flour is not the same as white flour. White whole wheat has all the fiber and nutrition of traditional “red” whole wheat, but it is lighter in color and milder in flavor. King Arthur Flour makes a white whole-wheat flour that is pretty widely available these days. (If you’re curious, you can learn more about white whole wheat here. ) If you don’t have white whole-wheat flour on hand, you can certainly substitute all-purpose flour and still turn out a delicious bread! (When I first started tinkering with this recipe, I used 2 cups all-purpose flour and 1½ cups white whole-wheat flour, a combination that works particularly well if you’re trying to slowly introduce more whole grains into your baking—and to your family.


*** If you’re baking the batter only into muffins, the full recipe yields about 30 muffins, so you will need 3 standard-size 12-cup muffin pans. You can start by baking 24 muffins in 2 pans for the first batch, then when those are done, bake the last 6 muffins in a third pan (or in a cooled, cleaned, and dried pan from the first batch of muffins).

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