Restoring tradition and eating the benefits at He‘eia Fishpond

I'm always amazed by how small O‘ahu is, but there are pockets that I've never trekked to...pockets that remind me that I don't have to travel far to experience something new and be inspired. Hidden from view behind a residential cul-de-sac in Kaneohe, a group of young people are restoring the He‘eia Fishpond, which we visited last week with Slow Food O‘ahu.

He‘eia Fishpond was constructed some 600 years ago as stocking ponds to raise fish...a small, small scale version of modern-day fish farming. These days, they raise moi, barracuda, Samoan crabs, Australian mullet, and sardines, all of which we prepare for lunch (except for moi, as they are not in season. As much as we are proponents of eating seasonally, we cry when we are deprived of moi).

Above, we scale sardines and Australian mullet (an invasive species) with an opihi shell, which works so well I consider retiring my fish scaler. These are fried and eaten whole.

Here, Hi‘ilei, executive director of Paepae o He‘eia, scales barracuda, which she wraps in leaves and steams with salt. We also steam sweet, meaty Samoan crabs. There are two limu salads, again, made with invasive species. Some people think we might be able to solve the invasive species problem by eating them. I say it's an appetizing way of approaching the problem.

Taro farmers, themselves preserving Hawaiian traditions, join the potluck, pounding taro to produce fresh, thick pa'i 'ai.

As usual at Slow Food potlucks, there's delicious food, and there's a ton of it. We're still eating and talking, getting our hands sticky with poi, grabbing fish with our fingers, cracking crabs until our fingers bleed, spending extra time around the desserts, when everyone else starts packing up to leave. Are we the last to leave because we're eating so much or because we're too busy talking? I can't tell...

Taro Festival at State Capitol

As we approached, we could hear the knocking of stone pounders on wooden boards. When we turned the corner, though, we didn't expect to see as many as we did...40 some wooden boards lay in the middle of the State Capitol, some only large enough for one person to pound, others big enough for four or more to sit around, and others long and narrow and raised, like seesaws. Families, young and old convened for the largest unified gathering of Ku'i Kalo (pounding taro) to celebrate Hawai'i's living taro traditions. Every family, every board, every stone pounder could tell a story, about the power of tradition, about preservation, about kalo. And knowing how much Hawaiians love to talk story, what stories were being exchanged at that moment, over the methodical pounding?

Kona Brewfest!

Beer and ribs. What a combination. Unless it's Lent and you've given up meat for 40 days. Then it's pure agony...at least as much agony as one could be in around so much beer. So instead, we drown our sorrows in beers, smoky, gingery, extra hopped-up, chocolatey, coffee-y. By the time of this picture, I've had enough beer that I'm waiting for my grapes to turn into wine.

Strawberry Mochi from Two Ladies Kitchen in Hilo

Eating these mochi is more like eating a hamburger or manapua...they're so big you almost need two hands to eat them. To make them, they take a handful of mochi, slather it with adzuki paste, roll it around a giant strawberry, and pinch the ends together to make a smooth seal. They're wonderful.

Peeking into Two Ladies Kitchen was like entering a kitchen full of moms, or church ladies making dinner for fellowship. They asked how old I was, and when I told them my age, they said, shocked, "Oh, that's OK. We know boys who like to date older women." I didn't have time to tell them that I was already married before they were listing some kids they knew who might accept me, even though I'm apparently waaay over the hill. I think I'm going to start lying about how old I am.

Hilo Farmers' Market

Chicken pecking and papaya tree growing in front of the Hilo Farmers Market sign. Hilo's market is like a cross between KCC's and Honolulu's Chinatown, with vendors speaking Tagalog, selling both locally-grown produce as well as repackaged mainland produce and Filipino desserts, and more hippie types selling organic lettuces, goat cheese and jams. The abundance of tropical fruits like mangoes, rambutan, pineapples and avocadoes is my favorite part of the market. The presence of mainland produce would have been a disappointment to me if it were the first time I had seen it at a market, but having lived in Hawaii for a few years now, I've somewhat accepted it as a fact of market life here, at least until we can get our agriculture to start meeting demand. Since this market appears to be Hilo's Chinatown equivalent, it seems that offering mainland produce isn't to trick tourists, but to provide a service to people who live there, who can come and talk story in their native languages while picking up groceries.


We missed the avocado festival a few weeks before, but made up for it by bringing back a bag full of Sharwil, butter, Linda, and Haas avocadoes (gathered from the market and the side of the road). We hear Ken Love is making an avocado poster, depicting more than 40 avocado varieties (not even including the experimental varieties)...can't wait to get our hands on it!

Relax, don't worry, and have a homebrew!

I'm not much of a beer drinker. But Justin's enthusiasm for beer and homebrew is so catching I buy a ticket to the Kona Brewfest, whose homebrew contest he entered, just to see beer through his eyes (or goggles). Spending $50 (plus a plane ticket) just to go drink beer? That's how infectious his energy (maybe mania) over homebrew and beer is; it's enough for me to push my lava flow aside and get over beer-associated memories of frat parties and sticky floors.

So I find myself at Justin's, learning about homebrew and watching Justin's latest creations come together: a tripelbock and a bourbon chocolate lager.

Above are malts, which are surprisingly tasty as is, for the tripelbock. I still don't really understand all the steps and ingredients, so here's how Justin tells it:

[The tripelbock] is really a doppelbock that's got some extra malt (hopefully with a final ABV of about 10%) that I spiced with orange zest and coriander (like a belgian tripel, in honor of my third anniversary of brewing and my first beer, which was a tripel). Triple refers to the amount of malt you add (three times more than the regular amount). We used a "base malt", "specialty malts" (crystal, aromatic, roasted), and "malt extract."

My favorite part of learning from Justin is translating all the beer flavor descriptors into what I like and don't like. Don't like: strong hoppy taste. Like: malt (which has a mellow, sweet taste). So I expect to love his tripelbock...unfortunately, it won't be ready for months.

His other creation is a bourbon chocolate lager. He soaked french oak chips in bourbon (an amazingly aromatic combination) and added them to a chocolate lager he brewed a few weeks earlier. There's no actual chocolate in the chocolate lager, just chocolate malt substituted for roasted barley.

Babysitting a waffle cone maker

This is what I've got sitting on my kitchen counter now. It's a dream come true.

I was doing a gelato roundup (from A Latta Gelata, La Gelateria, and Mondo Gelato) and ended up with a freezer full of gelato. And now, I've got the perfect vehicle for all that gelato...or at least, hopefully I will. I offered to help Chris Murai, "Head Gelato Scooper" of A Latta Gelata perfect a waffle cone recipe. I love tinkering, and I love waffle cones even more. Will I still after a week of waffle-cone testing? We'll see...

Punahou Carnival

I know Punahou Carnival happened a month ago, but I was just reminded of it... My parents came to visit recently and I sent my dad home with some of Punahou Carnival's mango chutney. He called to tell me that he had forgotten to pack it into his check-in luggage, and when airport security told him he couldn't carry it on, he thought about just leaving it behind (after I had waited in line for an hour for it!). But one of the security officials stopped him and lectured my dad on the rarity and fame of The Punahou Carnival Mango Chutney. In short, he told him that the chutney was no less precious than gold--he didn't know how my dad got his hands on a jar, but now that he had it, he was responsible for it. He ushered my dad out of line to retrieve his already checked-in bags and to carefully stow away the precious cargo.


These stories are why I love Hawaii--the combination of aloha and deep appreciation for food. I once brought a salad on the plane, forgetting about the little container of dressing. I offered to throw it away, but security was shocked at the idea of eating a salad without dressing. If only you had a Ziploc baggie, they lamented. But I didn't, and so they proceeded to ask all the passengers in line behind me for an extra baggie. They found one, and on my flight, I enjoyed a well-dressed Caesar salad instead of just plain lettuce. I do think the TSA rules are silly, but if we have to abide by them, Hawaii's TSA does so with great compassion.

In the end, is Punahou Carnival's mango chutney really worth all the hassle? I say yes. Not necessarily for the taste alone, but because of the traditions, the legends, the lore, the stories it evokes for so many people.