Hawaiian Food

The kalua pig and huli-huli chicken combo was so ono. We landed in Kona less than an hour before, and my twelve-hour journey was about to be all worth it. I come to Hawaii to see old friends, fish, dive, hike, and enjoy the sun and the beach; however, my prime motive is to eat.

There is no great option for authentic Hawaiian food in Texas. Yes, I am a frequent diner at Hawaiian Bros Island Grill, and I appreciate the valiant attempts by the plethora of poke places, but those things are methadone for an addict. There is no substitute for the real thing. I have had the laulau and kalua pig combo plate from Young’s Fish Market in Honolulu sent to Austin via FedEx more than once when the urge became overwhelming.

While I can get laulau shipped to me at some expense and can often find a good Spam musubi, I have yet to find a way to get my lomi lomi salmon and poi fix anywhere but in the islands. It’s even better with a mai tai. So until there is a better way, I will carve out the time each summer to make the long trip. Pele is my Calypso, tempting me to stay with the local version of ambrosia and red nectar.  

Last night we went to a luau on the Big Island. I’ve been to dozens of them. The scripts are predictable and they are purposefully hokey, but the best ones have a passable Hawaiian food buffet described by four glorious words – “All You Can Eat.” I skipped lunch to make extra room and advised the grandkids not to put the salad and sides on their plates. Go straight for the good stuff and don’t forget to stop at the dessert table for the lilikoi haupia squares. Take a couple of deep breaths and then go back for seconds.

I was so stuffed that it was hard to sleep, but as I tossed and turned, I dreamed of a world with an endless buffet of my favorite Hawaiian foods. This morning, we ate hot malasadas.

Aloha!