My Mom believes that there is a clear and absolute line between "for company" homemade food, and the more unassuming and humble food that you only make for your family. The latter category definitely includes things that make my California-raised children raise skeptical eyes. This time it was warabi and watercress soup.

Pictured at left is warabi, the Japanese name for an edible fern. The Hawaiian name is pohole. The curly parts are not inchworms. I think of "eats shoots and leaves" now when I see it. I grew up eating and liking it; ferns were no more exotic than spinach. It grows best on the damp Hilo side of the Big Island or Maui. Mom usually gets it from the Peoples' Open Market, which is what the Farmer's Market is called in Hawaii, or from my sister, who lives on the Big Island.

You won't find this at plate lunch places or hotels, and only rarely might you find it in the Hawaii Regional Cuisine restaurants like Alan Wong's or Roy's. 

Warabi is sold in bunches like spinach. Clean, cut and boil it. Mom makes a kind of salad using dried shredded codfish, chopped kamaboko, a little shoyu, sesame oil and shio fuki konbu (dried, salted and shredded konbu). Mom says do not even try using konbu sheets and shredding those  because it is Not The Same Thing. The sheets, she says, are dashi-konbu. There's no recipe to post right now because it's chock-ful of ingredients that are quite difficult to find unless you live in Hawaii. But it's well worth seeking out when you are in Hawaii. 

Watercress Soup
On a 'freezing-cold' day where the temperature slipped to the mid-70s during the day, Mom decided it was watercress soup weather. 

Chicken, beef and vegetable broth, ginger, garlic, sake, bit of dashi powder, pork and watercress. This is a highly requested meal, and can be easily made in non-Hawaii locales. Three phone calls later, I wrangled out a general recipe. Click here for what I did. 

This is cooking, not Cuisine, but it satisfies your soul. If this is served to you, you're part of the family.

Eat Well. Be Well.

The Trans-Pacific o-miyage exchange never fails to bemuse me. 

O-miyage (pronounced "oh-me-ah-gay) is a Japanese word describing little gifts one brings back from travels, or sometimes just a little something you take to someone's house. Whenever we visit in Hawaii, we never go empty-handed and never leave empty-handed. 

Here is how this dynamic plays out across blue Pacific.

I have relatives visiting from Hawaii. This is a good thing because besides in addition to being allowed to turn the heat up to slightly-above-tundra, we are on the receiving end of various gifts and snacks, including a brand-new Hawaii Regional Cuisine cookbook, Big Island snack mix, private reserve Kona coffee, various forms of macadamia nuts, and all things li-hing mui.

Now for the quid-pro-quo, or what my husband sometimes calls the accounting of affection. 

My Hawaii-based ohana asks for Trader Joe's and Archer Farms food. Yep, you read that correctly. Target food. And yes, there are 4 Target stores in Hawaii, but they don't have the same stuff as our neighborhood Target. Like Lemon Raspberry Granola Bites or Paul Frank Kids clothes. Go figure.

But Trader Joe's is my Hawaii-based ohana's version of the Holy Grail. What I not-so-fondly call squirrel food and what serves as my post-Hawaii plate-lunch detox, is what my relatives lust for. 10 bags of trail mix, 6 boxes of Trader Joe's Mac and Cheese and assorted bags of pistachios, almonds, cashews and dried apricots.

The best part is that we all think we got the better end of the deal.

Eat Well. Be Well.

First of all, mahalo to Ground Control to Major Mom. I'd been searching for an old-time huli recipe for awhile, and finally came upon an authentic one. She has graciously allowed me to share her post and recipe.

Huli Huli Chicken by Ground Control to Major Mom
My family was living in Hawaii when I was 4-years-old. My Dad, who was in the Navy, was stationed at this small base northwest of Honolulu (not Pearl Harbor).  My first solid memories were from Hawaii.

And here's one of them: Huli Huli chicken fundraisers. Click here for a history of Huli Huli chicken (from the obituary of the inventor--a Navy man--from 2002).  I vaguely remember driving up to a large dirt/gravel parking lot, perhaps at a church or a high school.  And you'd see row-after-row of rotisserie-like skewers, all covered with chickens, as well as large metal trash cans to hold the marinade (this was in the '70s, well before plastic trash cans, apparently), and folks using cotton mops to slop on the marinade on the skewers.

My Dad mentioned to me once that the chickens would be sold whole for just a few dollars (I think he said $5, but I could be wrong), and they'd be wrapped for you in newspaper!

Click here about a modern-day operation on Oahu.

What I'm going to present always brings back the memories I had, but I'm sure someone will tell you that it's wrong. I've had chicken made with commercially purchased "Huli Huli Chicken Sauce" and that just seemed WRONG WRONG WRONG.  Too syrupy, from what I remember.  If you do a web search for "huli huli chicken recipe" you'll come up with a very wide variety of recipes. Ginger, sugar and garlic are common threads, but from there you'll see varied other ingredients: limes, chiles, honey, ketchup, white wine, etc.

That's my sister's handwriting, circa 1995 or so (she was still in high school).  I didn't photograph the back of the card, but suffice it to say that the back merely says to cook the chicken.

Mix all ingredients together, sans chicken. Stir stir stir, dissolving as much of the sugar as you can.

Since the chicken is taking up so much space in the bag, a little marinade will go a long way in the zip-top baggie. 

I will allow this to sit in my fridge for TWO DAYS, flipping the bag about every 12 hours.

The cooking is the tough part. Because of the sugar content of the marinade, you have to be VERY careful how to cook up the parts. Low low low, for 25 minutes on each side, then you can turn up the heat at the end to give a nice crispness to the skin. I guess I could invest in one of those rotisserie cooker thingies, but we're lazy and just want to throw it on the gas grill.

Another option is to slow bake the chicken, then throw it on the grill. I don't have a rigid cooking time, or even a rigid cooking temperature. Let's call it 350F for 1 hour. Then give it about 5 minutes on each side on a NASA-hot grill (to coin an awesome Alton Brown term).  Baste it with more marinade, if you wish.

Looks WONDERUL, doesn't it?  DO NOT be alarmed if you cut into your Huli Huli chicken and you see pink nearest the surface...this is the marinade penetrating the meat!  Trust me, it's a good thing.  So long as it isn't pink next to the bones, you're golden!

Thanks again to Major Mom. The Internet can make us all ohana. Or at least it has the ability to bring kindred huli chicken fanciers together. Click here for recipe.

Eat Well. Be Well.

Thursday was ‘holy-smokes-can-you-believe it!’ lucky ogo day.

What’s ogo?? Ogo is the Japanese word for a grassy seaweed that quite literally grew like weeds in the shallow reefs in Hawaii. The closest approximation I can think of is pickle weed, and it’s really not that close. And it’s definitely not the Astroturf-green seaweed salad in the Asian deli aisle or at Costco.

My Dad made ogo into a sublime side dish. After searching online for a Bay Area source, emailing a few San Francisco-based fish distributors and even calling a couple, I had given up. 

Then last week, an ex-pat Hawaii friend, a good ole’ local Kaimuki boy, Facebook'd that there was fresh ogo to be found in the Bay Area! This is a very serious and wholly justified cause for celebration.

Imahara Produce on Thursdays is the place for fresh ogo and poi, flown in from Hawaii that day. If you can’t get there in the morning, call ahead because they usually sell out of both. The two bags of ogo I bought were amazing--fresh, super-clean, and just smelled good.

I have to admit, I more often go to Marukai, a big Japanese grocery chain store directly across the street. However, Imahara’s is a family-run business that definitely merits regular visits. The place is always really clean, their staff just rocks, and the selection produce is really beautiful and fresh—they bring new stock in every day. This makes it a tad more expensive than Marukai, but definitely less than Whole Foods. And lots of Hawaii food, like frozen lau-lau, Ani’s sweet bread, Zippy’s chili, various flavors of Hawaiian Sun drinks, and fresh San Jose tofu and Japanese food to boot. 

Just don’t buy all the ogo on Thursdays. Click here for Dad's recipe.

Eat well. Be well.

There were certain fruits I never, ever thought I'd pay money to obtain. In Hawaii, these fruits, well, they just are. When you have a chance to eat these in Hawaii, or where-ever you are, go for it!

Hello Starfruit, I've missed you from my 'small-kid' time. I'm embarrassed to say what I paid for just one. Its hoity-toity name is 'carambola' usually cut cross-sectioned (see photo) to show off  its shape. As kids, we called 'em "five fingers," ate them like apples,
and everyone knew someone with a tree. 

Starfruit has a firm texture, like a very crunchy grape. They are not too sweet, a little citrus-ey, very juicy, a cross between an orange and maybe a peach. Eat them when they light yellow and the skin is not wrinkly.

Mango. Haden, Pirie, and the humongous Shibata. Everyone had a backyard mango tree, and you couldn't give the stuff away during mango season.' This is the fruit I most routinely buy--typically Hadens from Mexico. Pirie (pronounce "peery") is an acquired taste--squishier than Hadens, eaten by slurping or spooning it off the pit.

Pineapple. In the name of 'local' (and nostalgia) I buy fresh Maui Gold pineapple from Hawaii instead of generic from Costa Rica. Lower acidity and good sweetness. Sadly, with the end of pineapple farming in Hawaii, the ability to buy canned Hawaiian pineapple has also gone. Canned pineapple is now from Costa Rica or Thailand.

Lychee. My grandma had a tree and a childhood friend had lychee trees. We picked, ate and spit out the pits while sitting up in the tree. Canned lychee is convenient because they are pitted, but the texture isn't even close. Asian markets and even Safeway will sometimes stock fresh lychee. Peel, eat and spit da pit.

Papaya. Not my favorite, but my husband and son love them. Slice them in half, scoop out the slimy seeds that look like very, very big caviar, and spoon out the fruit like a melon. If you are searching for papaya, I recommend the smaller variety it just a bit bigger than your hand. One that is going from green to yellow-orange and eat it right away. Mushy papaya is just plain gross.

I've left out apple bananas (my dad's fave), mountain apples, coconut, breadfruit, guava and lilikoi (passion fruit). I'll have to leave those for another installment. 'Til then,

Eat Well. Be Well.