The Best Hawaiian Banana Bread Recipe (That’ll Transport You to Paradise)

Okay, so I need to tell you about this Hawaiian banana bread that completely changed my life. And I know that sounds dramatic, but hear me out—I’ve been chasing the perfect banana bread recipe for literally years, and this is it.

Last summer, my family went to Maui for the first time (saved up for three years, don’t ask me about the credit card bill), and we stopped at this tiny roadside bakery on the way to Hana. The Hawaiian banana bread they sold there was unlike anything I’d ever tasted. Moist, tropical, with chunks of pineapple and coconut that made regular banana bread seem boring and sad.

I begged the lady behind the counter for the recipe. She just smiled and said, “Aloha spirit, honey. You gotta feel it, not just follow instructions.” Thanks, Linda. Super helpful.

My Quest for Hawaiian Banana Bread Perfection

So I came home obsessed. Seriously obsessed. My husband started hiding when he saw me pulling out the mixing bowls because attempt number one through… let’s just say there were many attempts.

The first disaster involved way too much pineapple juice and resulted in what can only be described as tropical soup in bread form. My youngest took one bite and asked if I was trying to poison the family. Kids are brutally honest.

Then I went overboard with the coconut flakes and created something that tasted like eating a loofah. Even the dog wouldn’t touch it, and that dog once ate an entire stick of butter off the counter.

But version seventeen? Pure magic. Finally.

What Makes This Hawaiian Banana Bread Special

Look, regular banana bread is fine. It’s perfectly adequate. But Hawaiian banana bread is like banana bread went on vacation and came back with a tan and a better personality.

The secret is the combination of crushed pineapple, coconut, and just a hint of rum extract (or actual rum if you’re feeling rebellious—I won’t tell). Plus, using really ripe bananas is crucial. I’m talking black-spotted, “maybe I should throw these away” ripe.

My neighbor Carol tried to tell me that canned pineapple was “too processed” and I should use fresh. Carol clearly hasn’t spent two hours trying to core a pineapple at 6 AM while three kids are asking for breakfast. Canned pineapple works perfectly fine, Carol.

The Ingredients (And My Shopping Drama)

For the Best Hawaiian Banana Bread:

• 3 very ripe bananas, mashed (the blacker the better)
• 1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted (or coconut oil if you want to be extra tropical)
• 3/4 cup brown sugar (packed—don’t be shy)
• 2 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/2 teaspoon rum extract (this is KEY—don’t skip it)
• 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup crushed pineapple, drained (save that juice for smoothies)
• 1/2 cup sweetened shredded coconut
• 1/3 cup chopped macadamia nuts (optional but highly recommended)
• 2 tablespoons pineapple juice (from the can)

Now, about those bananas—you want them so ripe that your kids are making gagging faces. If they’re still mostly yellow, wait another day or two. Trust me on this.

The rum extract can be tricky to find. I had to go to three different stores before I found it hiding next to the vanilla in the baking aisle. If you can’t find it, you can substitute with a tablespoon of actual rum, but don’t tell my mother-in-law I said that.

And yes, macadamia nuts are expensive. Like, ridiculously expensive. But they’re what make this taste like you’re sitting on a beach in Hawaii instead of your kitchen in Ohio. Worth every penny.

The Method (That Actually Works)

Step 1: Preheat your oven to 350°F and grease a 9×5 inch loaf pan. I use butter for greasing because I’m fancy like that. Also, flour the pan afterward—learned this after too many loaves stuck to the bottom.

Step 2: In a large bowl, mash those bananas until they’re mostly smooth. Don’t worry about a few lumps—texture is good. This is therapeutic, by the way. Great stress relief.

Step 3: Mix the melted butter into the mashed bananas. Then add the brown sugar, eggs, vanilla extract, and rum extract. Whisk it all together until it looks like something you’d actually want to eat.

Step 4: In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt. This step feels unnecessary, but don’t skip it. Something about even distribution of leavening agents. Science, I guess.

Step 5: Fold the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients until just combined. And I mean JUST combined. Overmixing makes tough bread, and we want tender, fluffy Hawaiian banana bread.

Step 6: Gently fold in the drained crushed pineapple, shredded coconut, and chopped macadamia nuts. The batter will look chunky and beautiful at this point.

Step 7: Add those 2 tablespoons of pineapple juice and give it one final, gentle stir. This adds just enough tropical flavor without making the batter too wet.

Step 8: Pour the batter into your prepared loaf pan and smooth the top. Sprinkle a little extra coconut on top if you’re feeling extra.

Step 9: Bake for 60-70 minutes until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs. Start checking at 55 minutes because ovens are liars.

Step 10: Let it cool in the pan for 10 minutes (longest 10 minutes of your life), then turn it out onto a wire rack to cool completely. If you can wait that long.

The Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me

First, don’t drain the pineapple completely. You want it mostly drained but still a little juicy. Bone-dry pineapple pieces are sad and chewy.

Second, this bread is even better the next day. I know, I know—who has that kind of self-control? But the flavors really develop overnight, and it becomes even more moist and tropical.

Third, it freezes beautifully. I always make two loaves now and freeze one for those days when I need a little taste of paradise but don’t have the energy to bake.

Also, if your bananas aren’t quite ripe enough, you can speed up the process by putting them in a paper bag with an apple overnight. The apple releases ethylene gas that ripens the bananas faster. Science is cool sometimes.

Variations That Don’t Ruin Everything

Extra Tropical: Add some mini chocolate chips along with the nuts. My teenager loves this version and actually helps me bake when I make it this way.

Coconut Lover’s Dream: Use coconut oil instead of butter and add an extra 1/4 cup of shredded coconut. Also, sprinkle toasted coconut flakes on top before baking.

Nutty Paradise: Mix in some chopped pecans or walnuts if you can’t find macadamia nuts. Not quite the same, but still delicious.

Boozy Version: Replace the rum extract with 2 tablespoons of actual dark rum. This is my “adults only” version for when the kids are at sleepovers.

The Real Talk About Timing

This whole process takes about 15 minutes of actual work, then an hour of baking time where your house smells like a tropical vacation. The hardest part is waiting for it to cool because the smell is absolutely intoxicating.

I usually start this in the afternoon so it’s ready for an after-dinner treat. Or weekend mornings when I want to feel like I’m accomplishing something without actually doing real work.

Storage and Serving

This Hawaiian banana bread keeps on the counter for about 4 days wrapped in plastic wrap. In the fridge, it’ll last about a week, but honestly, it never lasts that long in my house.

For serving, I like it slightly warm with a pat of butter. My husband prefers it toasted with cream cheese. My kids eat it plain while standing in the kitchen and getting crumbs everywhere.

If you want to get fancy, serve it with whipped cream and fresh pineapple chunks. Very Instagram-worthy.

Why This Recipe Works When Others Don’t

Most Hawaiian banana bread recipes either go overboard with the pineapple (hello, soggy mess) or skimp on the tropical flavors so much that you might as well just make regular banana bread.

This recipe hits that sweet spot where you get distinct pineapple and coconut flavors without overwhelming the banana base. The rum extract ties everything together and gives it that authentic island taste.

Also, the combination of brown sugar and just a touch of pineapple juice keeps it incredibly moist without being dense or gummy.

The Honest Truth About This Recipe

Is it exactly like that roadside bakery in Maui? No. Nothing will ever compare to eating warm banana bread while looking at the Pacific Ocean with trade winds in your hair.

But does it transport me back to that feeling every time I make it? Absolutely. And that’s worth something, especially when it’s snowing in February and I need a little tropical escape.

This Hawaiian banana bread has become my go-to comfort food, my “I need to bring something to the potluck” recipe, and my “the kids are driving me crazy” baking therapy all rolled into one.

The Final Word

Everyone who tries this asks for the recipe. I’ve texted it to my sister-in-law, emailed it to three different neighbors, and written it on an index card for my mom at least twice.

My kids’ friends now request it for birthday breakfasts instead of regular cake. That’s when you know you’ve got something special.

If you make this, you’ll understand why I spent months perfecting it. And when you’re sitting in your kitchen, closing your eyes and pretending you’re in paradise while eating a warm slice, you’ll probably forgive me for being so dramatic about banana bread.

Seriously, make this. Your kitchen will smell amazing, your family will think you’re a baking genius, and you’ll have your own little taste of Hawaii whenever you need it.

Aloha! 🌺

Have you tried making Hawaiian banana bread before? Let me know in the comments if you have any tropical baking tips—I’m always looking for ways to make it even better!