On a tiny road that sometimes allows for two lanes of traffic and sometimes forces cars to back up or wait while a single lane passes, there is a sandwich board announcing Julia’s Banana Bread, the world’s best. On an island that’s famous for its banana bread, that’s a pretty arrogant boast. But the road is long and winding and we just may never get back to it, so we stopped at the acid green hut.
Settled on a small hillside next to a taro paddy, Julia’s is equipped with a few cold drinks and a heater that keeps the banana bread warm. There are expensive dried fruit packages and taro chips. Nothing is less than $5 for a small pack and the bread is $6 a loaf. But it’s
Maui. And I looked at the woman behind the counter – who may or may not be Julia herself – and I decided that nothing would really be awful in Maui, not if it was home made with love by a Hawaiian tita (auntie), and if this is how they make their living – not in a Wal-mart or a McDonald’s or in an office or by making their banana bread in a high-tech factory with preservatives and then shipping it to stores – then why can’t I just take out the middle man and give them the money for such a delicious endeavor?
I bought two loaves, a package of chips, a pack of trail mix and some dried mango thing that Raf wanted. $32 and worth every single penny. The chips didn’t even make it back up the hill.