A stiff tailwind brought us into Honolulu an hour early (that’s a first!), but the absence of an open gate forced us to sit on the tarmac for 40 minutes. It was raining, too, but that didn’t dampen my enthusiasm for what promises to be a swell three weeks.
United gave us no food on the plane, either (there was food for sale, but I wanted to work up an appetite), so I subsisted on pretzels and Diet Coke (plus one overpriced airport latte) from 4 a.m. yesterday until 4:30 p.m. Hawaiian time (8:30 Chicago time). It turned out to be another fasting day—until dinner.
It’s forbidden to bring fruit and produce into Hawaii (as well as any animals, which require a four-month quarantine, even if you’re moving a pet), and you must fill out a declaration before you land if you’re carrying contraband.
If you forget, you can dispose of illegal goods in this Amnesty Bin, located right before the exit into baggage claim:
The goal for dinner was originally Helena’s Hawaiian Food, famous for its indigenous cuisine (kalua pork, poi, butterfish collar, pipikaula short ribs, and so on, but it’s closed for the holidays until January 4. (Poi, pounded and fermented taro, is one of my favorite foods, but it’s impossible to get on the U.S. mainland.)
The next best restaurant choice, and a good one, was the almost-as-reputed Highway Inn in Honolulu, serving indigenous food. It’s accompanied, starting at 5 pm, by a music group featuring four guys playing slack-key guitar and singing Hawaiian songs. That was a great accompaniment to this plate:
kalua pork (pulled pork from a pig cooked underground), poi (the purple stuff), lomi-lomi salmon, steamed ‘uala (purple sweet potato), “chicken long rice” (not rice but chicken and broth served with “glass noodles” made from mung-bean paste), and haupia (the white block of dessert, a coconut-milk gelatin which was delicious.
It was great. The pig looked like Carolina-style shredded bbq, but was completely different in flavor. It had no sauce and needed none: just complete porky goodness infused with smoke. And I loved the purple poi. It’s starchy, goopy, and a bit sour because it’s fermented, and the perfect accompaniment to a bit of kalua pork.
Many people don’t like poi, saying it’s an “acquired taste”, but I loved it the first time I tried it, and am going to stuff as much down my craw during this trip as I can. It was worth starving myself all day to get this meal.
After a driving tour of crowded downtown Honolulu, replete with fancy stores like Tiffany’s, Fendi, Jimmy Choo and the like, we headed for real dessert: shave ice—the Hawaiian version of a snow cone. It’s made with very fine machine-shaved ice covered with fruit syrups, with additions like ice cream, condensed milk, and Japanese mochi (discs made with glutinous rice paste). It was a big favorite of Barack Obama when he lived here, and he still eats it when he comes back.
Judicious research by my host turned up the place to go: Uncle Clay’s House of Pure Aloha, famous for using only natural fruit flavors in its syrups as well as premium ice cream. (see the menu here, and do look at it). There was only one thing I wanted to get, something I’ve been craving for days (description from the menu):
Omygod was it good! The green tea syrup was heavy with matcha flavor, and there was a generous scoop of sweetened azuki beans on top. It all blended perfectly with the ice cream and chewy discs of mochi. I want to come here every day!
Here’s a video showing the store, the wares, and the much-beloved Uncle Clay.
And so to bed. Off to new sights and culinary adventures (and more poi) today.
