If You Show Up With This Bread, You Basically Win at Life

So, funny story—last summer I craved blueberry lemon bread but realized I had zero eggs and my milk had, let’s say, crossed over to the “past its prime” stage. (That weird, slightly tragic moment when grocery shopping feels light-years away? Yeah, that.) But I was determined. After three tries and a disaster involving a pan that wasn’t truly non-stick (backing up my grandma’s theory that pans secretly have favourites), I landed on this fluffy, bright, blueberry bombshell. Now, I get requests from neighbours. Which, honestly, is a double-edged sword when you want to eat the whole loaf yourself.

Blueberry Lemon Bread (No Eggs, No Dairy)

Why You’ll Love This Bread (Even If You’re Not Vegan)

I make this when I want something that’s not too sweet, but secretly feels like cake. (Also, when I have exactly two lemons left and a half bag of sad blueberries).
My family hoovers this up in a shockingly short time—one time my cousin inhaled three slices and then claimed the rest for “later.” (Later was apparently 7 minutes.)
Honestly, I appreciate how forgiving it is. Forgot to sift the flour? Still turned out. Got distracted and left it in the oven 10 minutes extra? Still somehow delicious, just with a crispier edge—actually, kind of loved that mistake.
If you hate washing up (I do), you’ll like how everything can basically go into two bowls. Or one, if you live on the edge.

What You’ll Need (Plus, My Lazy Swaps)

2 cups all-purpose flour (sometimes I swap out 1/2 cup for oat flour if I’m feeling fancy, but regular flour works just fine)
1 cup granulated sugar (my friend uses coconut sugar and it’s ok, but a little earthier—up to you!)
1 tablespoon baking powder (not baking soda, unless you like weird-tasting surprises—don’t ask)
1/2 teaspoon salt (I’ve accidentally doubled this and it was still edible…just, uh, interesting)
1 cup non-dairy milk (I reach for almond or oat, though in a pinch, water plus a blob of coconut yogurt got me by)
1/3 cup neutral oil (canola, vegetable, or even light olive oil; I tried coconut oil once but, honestly, the flavour took over)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract (I measure with my heart sometimes, and nobody’s complained yet)
Zest from 2 lemons (if you only have one, go for it, just give it an extra scrape or so)
1/4 cup lemon juice (from those same lemons, or bottled in a pinch—not the end of the world)
1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries (I don’t even bother thawing if they’re frozen—it works!)
1 tablespoon flour (for tossing the blueberries, helps keep them suspended instead of all sinking south—at least in theory)

Let’s Get This Loaf in the Oven

Preheat your oven to 350°F (that’s 175°C, if you’re on my cousin’s metric bandwagon). Line a 9×5-inch loaf pan with parchment, or just grease the heck out of it. (That’s where I usually regret my laziness and remind myself next time, parchment.)
Mix your dry stuff: In a big bowl, toss together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. No need to be precious—just give it a quick whisk or even a fork’ll do. (Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I even own a sifter.)
Wet stuff goes in next: In a separate bowl, combine your non-dairy milk, oil, vanilla, lemon zest, and lemon juice. Give it a good stir so it all gets friendly.
Okay, now pour the wet team into the dry team. Gently fold together—don’t go wild, just mix until it’s mostly combined. If you see some little flour streaks, that’s good enough. Over-mixing gets you dense bread, and only bricks should be dense, right?
Gently toss your blueberries with that spoonful of flour (unless you forget, which happens, just expect a purple bottom). Fold berries into the batter. This is where I sneak a blueberry or two—baker’s rights and all that.
Scrape batter into the pan. Smooth the top a bit; it’ll look kind of thick and lumpy—that’s totally right. Sometimes I sprinkle on a few extra berries or a handful of sugar, just to be extra.
Bake for 50-60 minutes. Mine usually takes about 55, but ovens are fickle beasts. If a toothpick comes out mostly clean (a sticky berry doesn’t count), you’re good. Don’t worry if the top gets super golden; it tastes even better. Let it hang out in the pan for 10 minutes before turning onto a rack (or plate, let’s be honest). Try to wait until it’s mostly cool, but frankly, a warm slice with melting vegan butter is peak joy.

Notes from My Messy Kitchen

I’ve tried this using only one lemon before. Still very tasty, just a bit less zingy. If you forgot to buy lemons, go wild with orange zest—works surprisingly well.
Sometimes, for no clear reason, all the berries crowd at the bottom anyway. It’s still delicious, just makes for a purple surprise (like tie-dye bread, kind of?)
If the bread looks a bit pale at 50 min, I just jack up the oven and give it 5 more. Never hurt it yet.

Things I’ve Tried (Some Hits, Some Misses)

I swapped blueberries for raspberries once—wow, tart! Good if you’re into pucker power. Strawberries made it a touch soggy, fyi.
Threw in poppyseeds once (about a tablespoon)—tasted a bit like a blueberry lemon muffin, which did not suck at all.
I figured adding a crumb topping would be brilliant. Spoiler: it mostly sunk. Maybe you’ll have better luck?

About That Equipment

I use a sturdy metal loaf pan because my glass one was sacrificed to the kitchen gods, but honestly, any loaf pan you have is fine. In a tight spot, I once did this with a cake tin and checked it earlier—came out flatter but still got wolfed down. No stand mixer needed—a whisk or even a wooden spoon is your pal here.

Storing (Assuming You Have Leftovers)

This keeps on the counter wrapped in foil for about two days, but honestly, in my house it’s never lasted more than a day! If you want to make it last, fridge for up to four days. Or freeze slices between wax paper (if you remember—they’re great toasted straight from frozen).

Serving It Up My Way

I love this with a mug of milky tea for breakfast. My eccentric uncle dunks his slices in oat milk, which is odd but apparently part of his Sunday ritual. Makes a cracking after-dinner treat with a splash of vegan custard too.

Things I’ve Learned the Hard Way

Don’t slice until it’s cooled—seriously, unless you want a smooshed, crumbly mess. (I have zero patience and learn this every time…)
Don’t skip the lemon zest; the juice alone doesn’t cut it. I once cheaped out and regretted it—zest is where the magic hides.
Trying to turn the loaf out too early is a rookie move. Learned that the messy way.

FAQ – Ask Me Anything (Well, Within Reason)

Can I use whole wheat flour? Yeah, you can swap up to half for whole wheat. It’s a bit denser, but still good! Full swap makes it, uh, hearty. (My brother calls it “health bread”)
Do I have to use fresh lemons? Actually, bottled lemon juice works if you’re in a jam, but fresh zest makes a world of difference.
Will this work with frozen blueberries? Yes! Don’t thaw, or they go mushy and streak everywhere. Learned that the purple-fingered way.
Can I make this gluten-free? I tried once with an all-purpose GF blend—surprisingly decent, though a bit crumblier (maybe add a spoonful of ground flax for more hold?)
How do I know if it’s done? Poke a toothpick in—if it’s just crumbs or purple berry goo, you’re good. A ton of raw batter, just stick it back for 5-10 min; it won’t notice.
Any way to make it fancier? My pal drizzles a simple lemon glaze (powdered sugar and lemon juice). Super shiny, super extra.