Think about a banana. You're probably picturing that bright yellow, slightly curved fruit from the grocery store. It’s consistent. It’s predictable. It’s the Cavendish. But here is the thing: focusing only on the Cavendish is like saying the only bird in the sky is a pigeon. The world of types of banana plants is actually chaotic, colorful, and surprisingly weird once you dig into the soil.
Most people don’t realize that bananas aren't even trees. They’re herbs. Giant, towering perennial herbs with "trunks" made of tightly wrapped leaf sheaths called pseudostems. If you sliced one open, you wouldn't find wood rings; you’d find a succulent, watery core.
Growing them is a lesson in patience and humidity. From the tiny, ornamental varieties that fit in a living room corner to the massive Highland types that feed entire villages in Uganda, the diversity is staggering. There are blue ones. There are striped ones. Some taste like vanilla custard, while others are so starchy you’d break a tooth trying to eat them raw.
The Cavendish and Why We Are Stuck With It
Let’s address the elephant in the room. The Cavendish. It accounts for the vast majority of the global export market. Why? Because it’s hardy enough to survive being shoved into shipping containers and traveled halfway across the planet without turning into mush. It replaced the Gros Michel—the "Big Mike"—which was the king of bananas until the 1950s.
Panama disease, a soil-borne fungus, basically wiped the Gros Michel off the commercial map. People say the Gros Michel tasted better, creamier, more like "banana" candy. If you’ve ever wondered why banana-flavored taffy doesn't taste like the fruit in your kitchen, it’s because those artificial flavors were modeled after the Gros Michel.
Today, the Cavendish is facing its own existential crisis with Tropical Race 4 (TR4). It’s a bit of a genetic bottleneck. Since commercial bananas are clones, they don't have the genetic diversity to fight off evolving pathogens. This is why understanding the different types of banana plants isn't just a hobby for gardeners; it’s actually a matter of food security.
Sweet vs. Starchy: The Great Divide
Botanically, there isn't a hard line between a "banana" and a "plantain." It’s mostly a culinary distinction we’ve made up.
Dessert bananas are high in sugar when ripe. You peel them, you eat them, you're done. Plantains, or cooking bananas, are the workhorses. They stay starchy. In many parts of the world, specifically throughout Africa and the Caribbean, these are treated like potatoes. You fry them, boil them, or mash them into fufu.
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- Musa acuminata: This species is the ancestor of most sweet dessert bananas.
- Musa balbisiana: This one is hardier and provides the genetic backbone for many cooking varieties.
- The hybrids (AAB, ABB, or AAA groups) determine whether you're getting something sweet or something meant for a hot pan of oil.
Blue Java: The "Ice Cream" Banana
If you want to impress your neighbors, get a Blue Java. When the fruit is unripe, it has this eerie, silvery-blue hue that looks almost fake. People call it the Ice Cream banana for a reason.
The texture is incredibly soft. Once it's fully ripe, the skin turns a pale yellow, and the flesh inside is snowy white. If you freeze it and blend it, you’re basically eating soft-serve vanilla custard. It’s one of the few types of banana plants that can handle slightly cooler temperatures, though "cool" for a banana still means you shouldn't let it see a frost. It’s a favorite among permaculture enthusiasts because it grows fast and produces heavy bunches.
Red Bananas and Their Hidden Benefits
You might see these in specialty markets. They have a deep maroon or purple skin. They’re smaller and heartier than your standard yellow fruit.
The flavor is different too. It’s got a hint of raspberry. Because of the pigments in the skin, they actually contain more beta-carotene and vitamin C than the Cavendish. They also have a shorter shelf life, which is why they haven't taken over the world yet. They get soft fast.
Ornamental Varieties for the "Brown Thumb"
Maybe you don't care about the fruit. Maybe you just want your backyard to look like a scene from Jurassic Park.
The Musa basjoo, also known as the Japanese Fiber Banana, is the king of cold-hardy bananas. It can survive in zones as low as 5 if you mulch the heck out of it. You won't get edible fruit—they’re small, seedy, and frankly kind of gross—but the foliage is spectacular.
Then there’s the Ensete ventricosum 'Maurelii', or the Red Abyssinian. It isn't a true Musa, but it’s a close cousin. It has massive, leathery leaves with a blood-red underside. It doesn't produce "pups" (suckers) like other bananas, so you have to grow it from seed or buy a new one, but it grows with an aggressive speed that is genuinely terrifying to watch in the summer heat.
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The Weird Ones: Thousand Fingers and Praying Hands
Nature gets bored sometimes.
The 'Thousand Fingers' variety produces a bunch that can literally grow to be five or six feet long. The fruits are tiny, barely the size of your thumb, but there are hundreds of them. It’s a spectacle.
'Praying Hands' is even stranger. The individual bananas are fused together in "paws," looking like hands held together in prayer. You have to pull them apart to eat them. They aren't the sweetest, but they have a starchy, slightly vanilla-citrus flavor that works well in desserts or fried.
How to Actually Grow These Things
Bananas are hungry. They are thirsty.
If you decide to plant one of these types of banana plants, you need to understand the concept of "heavy feeders." They want nitrogen. They want potassium. They want a pile of compost that would make a regular houseplant faint.
- Sun: At least six to eight hours. More is better. If they are in the shade, they will stretch and become "leggy," and the pseudostem won't be strong enough to hold a heavy bunch of fruit.
- Water: They are roughly 90% water. If the soil dries out, the growth stops. In a heatwave, you might be watering them every single day.
- Wind Protection: Their leaves are designed to rip. It’s an evolutionary trait to keep the plant from blowing over in a storm. If you want those pristine, wide leaves, you have to put them in a spot shielded from the wind.
- Feeding: Use a fertilizer with a high third number (Potassium). This is what fuels fruit production.
Why the Diversity Matters for the Future
We are currently living in a monoculture nightmare. Relying on one single type of banana for the entire global trade is dangerous. By supporting small growers who cultivate "heritage" or "landrace" varieties like the Lady Finger or the Apple Banana (Manzano), we help keep the gene pool alive.
The Manzano is a personal favorite. It’s tiny and must be eaten when it looks like it’s starting to rot. If the skin isn't covered in black spots, it’s astringent and will make your mouth feel fuzzy. But when it’s ripe? It tastes exactly like a Granny Smith apple.
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Actionable Steps for Your Banana Journey
If you're ready to move beyond the grocery store aisle, here is how you start.
First, check your USDA hardiness zone. If you are in Zone 8 or higher, you can likely grow many of these outdoors year-round. If you're in the North, look into dwarf varieties like 'Dwarf Cavendish' or 'Little Prince' that can live in a pot and come inside for the winter.
Second, source from reputable nurseries. Don't just buy a "banana tree" from a big-box store; they rarely label the specific cultivar. Look for specialized growers who can tell you if it's an AAA, AAB, or ABB hybrid. This tells you exactly what the fruit will be like.
Third, prepare your soil before the plant arrives. Dig a hole twice as big as the pot and fill it with aged manure and compost. Bananas don't like "wet feet" (root rot), so make sure the drainage is perfect. If you have heavy clay, plant them in a raised mound.
Finally, be prepared for the "mat." A banana plant isn't a single entity; it’s a colony. The main plant (the mother) will flower, fruit, and then die. But before she goes, she’ll send up "pups" from the underground rhizome (the corm). You’ll need to manage these, leaving only one or two strong followers to take her place, otherwise, the clump gets too crowded and nobody produces good fruit.
The effort is worth it. There is nothing quite like walking into your backyard and hacking down a bunch of bananas that actually have flavor, character, and a story behind them.