In Maine we are in deep winter. There is a heavy layer of snow, and our little house in the big woods looks as though it has been tucked in a big white blanket. Snow is on the trees, snow is on the hedges, and a thin coating of snow covers the driveway. All is cold and quiet, and I find it very restful, despite the shoveling that must be done.

On Wednesday night it snowed, but the clouds parted enough so that January’s full moon, the wolf moon, shone bright and clear. How beautiful it was.

A couple of days ago, I glanced at the fruit bowl and took stock of two small bananas that were beginning to go past the pleasantly ripe stage and were fast approaching the mushy stage. One thought immediately came to mind—banana muffins, which for some reason I like even better than banana bread. I think it must be the higher ratio of crunchy surface to soft interior.

For Mainers, there is no way bananas can even be considered remotely local. They need a very warm climate to grow. According to Mike Peed’s “We Have No Bananas,” a recent piece in the New Yorker, “[t]o bear fruit, banana plants need at least fourteen consecutive months of frost-free weather, which is why they are not grown commercially in the continental United States.” Even sunny Florida can’t promise “fourteen consecutive months of frost-free weather.” Visions of frost-imperiled orange trees dance through our heads nearly every year.

Yet conscientious foodies who live in the North East can eat bananas and only have a moderate sense of guilt. Once, on the radio, I heard the food writer Micheal Pollan state that of all the fruit that is shipped to the East Coast, bananas were the least environmentally damaging. Generally, they come by boat up from Central America. Now, if only companies could bring back the clipper ships or come up with solar-powered ships. A “green” foodie must dream.

In “We Have No Bananas,” Peed informs us that in the late 1800s, bananas were shipped in bunches that could be thrown “directly into the hold of [a] ship.” The variety eaten back then was Gros Michels, and they apparently not only tasted sweet and good but also had tough skins that didn’t bruise easily. Then, “when the bunches arrived in the stores, shopkeepers hung them up and, at a customer’s request, cut off the desired number of bananas.” Americans developed quite a taste for bananas, and by 1910, they were eating forty million bunches a year.

Today we eat a variety called Cavendish, supposedly inferior in taste and skin resiliency to Gros Michels. But they are able to resist a fungus called Race One, which decimated Gros Michels. Unfortunately, Cavendishes are being attacked by another fungus called Tropical Race Four, and as commercial growers pretty much only plant, ship, and sell Cavendishes—yes, that’s an example of monocrops—our banana-eating days will be numbered if they don’t come up with a variety that resists Tropical Race Four.

But let us turn our thoughts to happier topics. Let us turn our thoughts back to banana muffins. I made them the day I noticed the bananas were turning, and I served them for our dinner that night along with scrambled eggs combined with bits of leftover sausage and topped with grated dill cheddar cheese.

Simple but good on a cold January night.

Banana Muffins

1 egg
¼ cup of butter, melted
½ cup of mashed bananas, about two small ones
½ cup of milk
1½ cups flour, half white and half whole wheat is a good combination
½ cup sugar
2 teaspoons of baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon of cinnamon

Heat oven to 400°. Grease muffin tin. In a large bowl whisk together the egg, butter, bananas, and milk. Add the dry ingredients and stir only until the mixture is combined. Too much beating makes for a tough muffin. There should be lumps in the batter.

Divide batter among muffin cups. I like large muffins with a big, crispy top, so I make about seven muffins with this recipe. However, you might like smaller muffins, and this recipe will make as many as a dozen. Remember, you are the cook, and it is your decision.

Bake for about 20 minutes, until the muffins are nicely brown.

I always let the muffins sit in the tin for five minutes before taking them out. It seems to me they pop out easier this way.