The Tao of Poi

You don’t have to attend a luau or learn the hula to revel in Hawaiian food and culture, writes PAUL GALLANT, after eating his way across O‘ahu and Kaua‘i

Coastal view of Kaua‘i.

Standing in a deep green and drizzle-damp grove on the east coast of O‘ahu, Taylor Kellerman picks a yellow gourd-like cacao pod and opens it up to reveal a pulpy white stack of cacao beans. We nibble. Not quite the full chocolate experience, but not bad. In his green flowered shirt, jeans and black baseball cap, Kellerman exudes Richie Cunningham all-American enthusiasm for every bit of flora and fauna we come across. He grew up 10 miles down the road and as director of diversified agriculture and land stewardship at Kualoa Ranch Private Nature Reserve, this is, he says, his dream job.

Though the reserve is probably best known for its movie-themed tours— most recently the King Kong, Jumanji and Jurassic World sequels have been shot against its dramatic prehistoric-meets-fairy-tale landscape—at the moment I’m less interested in raptors and giant apes than in the foodie adventures to be found on the 1,600-hectare property. We visit shrimp and oyster ponds, and survey fields of bananas, breadfruit, papaya and taro, before sitting down to a lunch where the seafood, beef and salad are all produced within walking distance—or at least within horse-riding or zip-lining distance. As I pluck a fresh oyster from its iced bowl, I can reasonably wonder if Kui’ipo McCarty, the ranch’s self-described “Oyster Maiden” who I met earlier in the day, might have handled it herself.

Of course, it’s not like anything’s far away on any of Hawaii’s islands. Yes, the eight main islands themselves are far flung, sprawling more than 2,400 kilometres across the South Pacific; when the Kilauea volcano went off on the Big Island this summer, it was business as usual everywhere else. But the islands themselves are compact and, outside Honolulu, still quite rural. There’s a small-town vibe even in the most cosmopolitan of moments, though it can’t be entirely attributed to the pastoral landscapes and Hawaii’s isolated location on the globe. The aloha spirit, that “joyfully sharing life” ethic of Polynesian culture that shows up in every hello and goodbye, is also what makes the Rainbow State such an easy and intimate destination. It’s also an astonishingly delicious one.

Though its climate and soil make the islands conducive to growing a wide variety of food—pineapples and chickens are seemingly everywhere—Hawaii imports an estimated 90 per cent of what it eats. Kualoa Ranch’s clever blend of farming, tourism and entertainment has been one strategy to increase the state’s food security in an era when land is, for better or worse, more valuable when it’s developed for tourism. “We’re hoping to revitalize the industry through agritourism,” Kellerman tells me.

It’s a worthy mission. With a truly multicultural society—people of various Asian backgrounds make up about 37 per cent of the population, native Hawaii/Polynesian making up six per cent, along with people who identify as white and black—you could argue that food, along with aloha, is what makes a Hawaiian Hawaiian.

It’s wrong-headed to be purist about it. Each wave of arrivals has brought their preferred flavours with them. Poi, a yoghurt-textured dish that goes with pretty much anything, is made from taro, which was brought to Hawaii around 450 A.D. Pineapples weren’t planted here till 1813. Poke, a dish of seasoned chunks of raw fish that’s a cross between sushi and ceviche, didn’t take off in its current form until the 1970s. The hot-weather treat of shave ice is found all over the Americas, but rarely with the ubiquity and variety of flavours found here. It was food, along with a little hula, that gave Hawaii its current modern form and it’ll be food that carries the state into its future. Having some of the most beautiful landscapes in the world is certainly a virtue, but stomach satisfaction can’t be ignored.

Coastal view of Kaua‘i.

A feast of poi, kalua pig, sweet potato and lomi salmon.

In the La Hiki Kitchen at Four Seasons Ko Olina, on O‘ahu’s west coast, Simeon Hall, Jr. is whipping up a batch of icefiltered chicken soup. “I cook with local ingredients using global techniques that my grandmother would still recognize,” he says, pouring the clear broth over the braised vegetables, crispy chicken and—why not?—pink flowers in my bowl. Hall arrived at the Four Seasons in November 2017 from his native Bahamas and brought a Bahamian eclecticism to kitchen, including more pickles and preserves on the menu. His dishes are beautiful and flavourful, but never fussy; the sandals-and-shorts sensibility translates easily from the Caribbean to the Pacific. “I have been training staff to better know the story behind the food. We’ve visited farms, producers,” he says.

In his own way, Hall is adding another layer to the very elastic concept of Hawaiian cuisine. When the first settlers arrived—possibly from the Marquesas Islands around 300 A.D., though there is much debate about this—they brought an estimated 30 species of plants with them, including taro. Breadfruit, bananas, coconut and sweet potatoes followed, as did chicken, pigs and dogs. But it was the introduction of sugarcane that most fundamentally reshaped the economy and the population of the islands. The sugar plantations that sprung up in the 1800s required lots of labour, with workers being imported from China, Japan, Korea, the Philippines and Portugal (the latter group brought with them a penchant for malasadas, yeastleavened doughnuts usually rolled in sugar, with them). Many of the labourers stayed, some marrying Native Hawaiians, helping establish Hawaii’s unique population mix. By 1950, sugar was the foundation of the economy.

Hawaii’s last sugar operation shut down in 2016. Modern agriculture has had to become more boutique-y. Mostly. Kauai Coffee, established in 1987 on land that was once the McBryde Sugar Company, is Hawaii’s largest coffee grower and, because Hawaii is the only coffee-growing state, the largest coffee grower in the U.S. You can see the fields of coffee plants along the road to the mosaic of national reserves and parks established to protect the unworldly cliffs and canyons of the north of Kaua‘i. The estate is one of the few flat parts of the island.

Kaua‘i, even more than O‘ahu, brings Hawaii’s small-town heart to the foreground. Towns and resort areas hug the coast and are mostly in the southeast, while the centre and the northwest of the island are dominated by green and red sharp-edged geological marvels, kept pristine by public and private efforts.

Tossing a net for shrimp.

At the National Tropical Botanical Garden, not far from the Kauai Coffee estate, the carefully tended fauna is meant for the eye, not the tongue—though lots of it looks good enough to eat. Its founder, Robert Allerton, was born into a rich Chicago family, but fancied himself an impressionist artist, then a philanthropist and art collector and, if local legend is true, a party host to contend with. In 1928, with partner John Gregg, Allerton purchased the gorgeous property that eventually became the notfor-profit institution, and started building a series of dreamy outdoor “rooms” furnished with exotic plants, sculptures and water features.

Even the drive in is impressive, with over-the-cliff views of a cozy beach where Allerton’s former residence is located. The hike around is not too taxing, but I’m glad when we arrive in the cool bamboo grove, where the thick stems provide shade.

The view of Lawai Stream is serene, though I’m told that locals do fish the stream in season. When everything is in balance, paradise is a feast for the eyes, the soul and the stomach.