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larly has a line out the door, which includes tourists and locals alike. But his proudest professional accomplishment might just be “Cook Real Hawai’i,” his first cookbook. “When I first saw the title, I thought, ‘Whoa, that’s a little strong,’” he tells me, leaving behind the clatter of the kitchen to find a quiet seat outside. “But then I realized that the ‘real’ comes from the heart and the effort. It’s about being as honest as possible,” he says. “You know, there are a lot of ideas of what Hawai’i is out there: There’s the fantasy of Elvis, girls in Waikiki, Mai-Tais on the beach—all that tropical lifestyle,” he continues. “In all realness, the story of Hawai’i involves a lot of turmoil and tragedy; I wanted to tell that story as well, of the people who came before us; the story of my grandparents and others who’ve made this place what it is today.” Simeon’s grandparents came to Hawai’i in the 1930s as sakadas, migrant workers from the Philippines. They were part of a stream of labor that began in the mid-1800s, when European and American businesses raced to reap as much profit as possible from sugarcane plantations. The Chinese were the first recruits, followed by workers from Japan, Korea, Portugal, Puerto Rico, Spain and even Norway, all brought under the promise of lucrative work. The reality was, by all accounts, far different. The work was brutal and poorly paid, even well after Hawai’i became a U.S. territory in 1900. What’s more, in the process, the native Hawaiian population was decimated by European-introduced diseases—from an estimated 700,000 before Captain Cook landed in Kaua’i in 1778, there were less than 100,000 by the 1850s. Today, native Hawaiians make up less than 11 percent of the state’s population. Because of this history, Simeon is careful to make a distinction between Hawaiian cuisine and what he cooks, which he calls “Hawai’i cuisine.” “For me, Hawaiians are royalty,” Simeon says. “I will never be Hawaiian—that’s blood passed down from ancestors and generations who traveled across the Pacific by moon, stars, waves and wind.” He’s referring to the original settlers— the ones who brought the sugarcane and
Hawai’i Sheldon Simeon dishes on what it truly means to embrace the cuisine of his home islands BY TARA Q. THOMAS
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t’s 7 a.m. in Hawai’i and Sheldon Simeon has already battered and fried a few hundred chicken thighs. “We started at 4,” he says, sounding surprisingly cheery. “That’s how it goes around here.” “Here” is Tin Roof, the Maui restaurant that’s been a destination since the moment he and his wife, Janice, opened it in 2016. Simeon’s star has been rising since he appeared on the Bravo network’s “Top Chef ” in 2012, wowing judges Tom Colicchio and Emeril Lagasse with his Filipino-inflected, Hawai’i-born dishes. While he didn’t win the series—nor in his next appearance on the show in 2015—his sense of modesty, warmth and humor earned him the “Fan
52 real food fall 2021
Favorite” title both times. That personality, combined with clear cooking talent, has earned him star power unusual for a chef based 3,600 miles off the U.S. mainland. Even if you haven’t been to Hawai’i, you have likely seen Simeon on his YouTube show, “Cooking in America,” or doing cooking demos on “IG Live.” You might have caught him making Spam musubi on “Good Morning America,” or showing Anthony Bourdain how to roast a pig Hawai’i-style on “Parts Unknown.” Along the way, he’s collected accolades for all the kitchens he’s led in the last decade, including Star Noodle, Migrant and Lineage, a James Beard Award semifinalist for Best New Restaurant in 2019. Meanwhile, Tin Roof—now his one and only—regu-
