Mesclun, Tokyo turnips and cardoons at MA‘O

Ben signed up for an earth building class at MA‘O over the weekend because 1) he likes to build and 2) because someday, I want a clay oven in my backyard, and somebody's gotta build it. I came out on Sunday to play around in the mud a bit and to roam MA‘O's fields, ridiculously picturesque against the Waianae range.

Kale, chard, beets and mesclun lettuce flourish in MA‘Os rich soil, along with some other less common veggies, like tiny, round Tokyo turnips, which we had prepared raw, stems still attached, with a Kula lavender mustard dressing at the Friends of the HiSAM benefit the night before. Ed (of town and downtown) likes to call them "little water bombs" and they're crunchy, slightly sweet, slightly peppery. I pulled a few cardoons, grown at the request of the guys at town. Raw, cardoon leaves are probably one of the worst things you could put in your mouth--harsh and bitter don't even describe the extent of it--but the stalks, when braised with a little lemon juice taste like a cross between a celery and an artichoke. There's also fennel, sweet and aromatic with a light anise flavor.


MA’O just acquired 11 acres and among many other projects for their new land, like building a teaching kitchen, cafe, and clay oven, also plans to plant a grove of fig trees. Figs in Hawaii! It's so exciting that farmers and chefs in Hawaii are getting together and breaking down the long-held beliefs that dictate what can and can't be grown in Hawaii.

Ka‘ala Farms

I visited Ka‘ala Farms the other day because a friend's description of the beauty of the ancient lo‘i being restored here was irresistible. To get to Ka‘ala Farms, we were told that when we reached the fork in the road, to take the road that was more forbidding. Truthfully, to this outsider, all the roads in Waianae look a little forbidding. But Ka‘ala Farms, deep in the Waianae Valley and surprisingly lush and green, welcomed us with the sight of terraced lo‘i planted with kalo at various stages of development. Ka‘ala Farms, more of a cultural learning center than a farm, encompasses 97 acres, of which about 9 acres are actively being tended. Various programs are cobbled together here: school groups come to learn about Hawaiian culture via kalo, poi and kapa, and individuals work in the lo‘i as part of a substance abuse treatment program.


I'm under the assumption that growing kalo is a practice handed down generations upon generations. And so I'm surprised to learn that when Eric Enos, director of Ka‘ala Farms, first stumbled upon these abandoned lo‘i, he didn't know what they were. He says that he was so removed from Hawaiian culture he had to ask UH for advice on how to grow kalo. That was a while ago...now, he invites us to a bowl of kava (dipping his fingers in the bowl and sprinkling it on the aina, and then one sprinkle over each shoulder for maternal and paternal ancestors) and shows us the fish he's drying in a simple, screened sun box. The dried ahi is like candy--chewy, sweet and salty. The other fish, simply salted, he gives us to take home, and my friend (and chaffeur for the day) is not so happy about the smell it gives off in her car under the hot Waianae afternoon sun.

Stage restaurant

As much as I love dense, rich content full of food politics and stories, I do whittle away a fair amount of time in shallow depth of field, soft focus food porn on the internet. So I admire those who can take beautiful pictures of their meals in restaurants. For me, unless I'm doing a Metromix gallery, I'm happy to just sit back and eat without fussing around with the camera. But when the above plate arrived in front of us at Stage Restaurant, I couldn't resist.

Above, Stage "Sashimi": Japanese Hamachi Sashimi, Kabayaki Sauce, Wasabi Paint, "Shoyu Gelee", Wasabi & Orange Tobiko, Crispy Radish Salad with Shiso


Seared Japanese Hamachi: Radish Salad, Cucumber, Togarashi, Caramelized Onion Vinaigrette

Ahi Carpaccio: Soy Wasabi and Chili Pepper Pearls, Concasse Tomatoes, Avocado Puree, Bubu Arare



Braised Short Rib
Mountain Meadows Grilled Lamb Chops: Marcona Almond Herb Crusted, Parsnip, Baby Zucchini, Baby Carrots, Yellow Squash, Lamb Jus


"Deconstructed S'mores": Cinnamon Toast Powder, Liquid "Teddy Grahams", Burnt Marshmallow Ice Cream, Swiss Dark Chocolate

There was also Crispy Fried Calamari, Grilled Kurobuta Pork Chop, Grilled Seafood Risotto, and four other desserts that didn't get their beauty shot because we just couldn't wait. Actually, I didn't even have the patience after the appetizers and had to hand off the camera to Ben. Yes, we may have been a little overindulgent in ordering, but this week is their 50% off special to celebrate their third year anniversary...and all five of us are greedy little pigs who know not to wear tight jeans when eating together.

Seinfeld's Soup Nazi in Manoa

I’m at Coffee Line, working, and it's becoming a little too bohemian for me...all the conversations are distractingly lively and empassioned and I can't concentrate. Frustrated, I get up to leave when a woman comes in who hasn’t been here in almost twenty years. "What a beautiful surprise!" she marvels, finding that the coffee shop she used to frequent as an undergraduate is still around.


Now run by a different owner, Dennis, it’s really the kind of place you don’t forget. The outside sitting area is airy, bright, and lush with foliage and filled with mismatched seats and tables that Dennis says he found in the trash. Even more crammed is the kitchen, filled with pans, mugs, plates and bric-a-brac on every surface. Where does he even prepare the food? Dennis is sometimes likened to Seinfeld’s Soup Nazi in his strictness and eccentricity, for which you get a sense on his menu which includes baked potatoes (when have you ever seen baked potatoes at a cafe?) and “Big ‘hippie’ sandwiches” and a coffee menu in which he admonishes people who don’t bring reusable cups for coffee-to-go.


Though intending to leave, I find myself buying a coffee and sitting on the stool in front of Dennis as he brews it. He took over this cafe 16 years ago, in his retirement. He’s here and open everyday because he likes it.“I don’t need a vacation from this,” he says. That’s the best kind of job, right? “It’s not a job,” he responds firmly.


It’s past 3, and it’s time for his run and workout at the gym. He’ll return in about two hours for dinner service, but we’re allowed to stay and hang out. It’s finally quiet, but now, all I want to do is push work aside.