Debbie Harrys

I am increasingly in appreciation of lavender. We take it for granted perhaps; it is a color more than an ingredient, a scent more than a taste. It is the stuff in the soap in your kitchen, it fills fields in California, France, and the plant is used for borders and fill for parkways, orchards.

But for all that, you can cook with the stuff.

If you grow it in a pot, or see it in a market, or ask to “borrow” some from your neighbor, I’d like you to try a recipe out I call Debbie Harrys.

Really it is just a slight tweak on a good Blondie recipe, which has a profound and delicious change in taste.

There are a lot of recipes out there for Blondies out there, and a lot of them seemed like the real thing, only to find that there is little things wrong with them. Too cakey perhaps, too dry, etc.

So I recommend this recipe up on the Food Network website. But here is where the tweaks start to come in. First, I only put in only white chocolate chips. Second, right before I place the batter in the pan, I slowly add 2 tablespoons of lavender flowers in. I add them in thirds stirring each well in to incorporate. You are using only the purple flowers here, no leaves, no stems.

So what do I get if I bake this you ask? Well it chewy and there is the sweetness of the white chocolate chips, but then there is the amazing mouthfeel experience from the lavender. Coating, dare I say perfuming every bite.

So they are not Blondies, they are a little punk from all that flavor, and those flecks of purple. Debbie Harrys.

 

 

Talking Izakaya with Mark Robinson

It is New Year’s Day, and I am in Little Tokyo in Los Angeles. Actors and ex-pats are lined up for mochi. Or watching taiko. Families are huddled around one another eating okonomiyaki.

Past the statue of the Challenger on Astronaut E Onizuka St, stands the Japanese bookstore Kinokuniya, and on this New Year’s Day, it is packed.

Making my way over to the cooking section I find I linger on one book, Izakaya by Mark Robinson. I have been putting fingers between the pages of recipes I think are great, or writing I want to share, and when I realize I have run out of digits, I know I will be buying the book.

It is a real find folks. A must have in your collection. On its pages are real stories of real restaurants, and Mark’s writing will put you at their tables and counters with thoughtful chefs, surrounded by locals who are enjoying the food you can replicate for yourself with clear and concise recipes. All the while the book is made greater by the accompanying photography by James Beard Award nominee, Masashi Kuma.

With the small plates, communal atmosphere, and great drinks, izakaya is a type of venue we in the west are ready for…but just don’t know it yet.

Mark graciously took time out of his busy schedule to answer some questions about his book and this unique restaurant/bar combination that inspired it.

THS: Izakaya generally gets translated as “Japanese pub food,” but there seems as much emphasis on the food, as the drinking. If you got the chance to do a dictionary entry for izakaya what would it be?

MR: Izakaya: [ee-ZAH-ka-ya] a Japanese tavern; convivial, sometimes raucous restaurant-bar, traditionally owner-operated. Serves a wide menu of small dishes to be shared, including sashimi and deep-fried foods, with an emphasis on fresh and seasonal fare. Typically has counter seating in front of an open kitchen. Offers a full range of alcoholic drinks, especially shochu (qv) and beer. Can become addictive with regular patronage.

THS: Do you think that the west is ready for izakaya? And what aspects to the culture would make it receptive?

MR: Many Western diners may be tired of being lumped with one dish to work through while looking at what everyone else is having, so I would say small-plate, shared dining has definitely arrived (though the Mediterranean seems to have enjoyed it forever). The word “izakaya” is already in most food lovers’ vocabularies. But the true Japanese izakaya, with its cramped seating, smoke, kitchens that may flout overly stringent Western regulations, food orders spontaneously shouted, and no tipping, will never migrate completely, although some places overseas come close. I think the absence of a tipping culture is a big part of the uniqueness of izakaya. Perhaps because the staff are not expecting a gratuity, there is less sense of a patron-servant relationship; you are treated more like a guest and therefore you behave like one, and unlike a conventional restaurant the scene can be like a party.

THS: You touch on the history of these eating/watering holes and it was surprising to learn that they are actually a modern invention, with major developments and stylistic changes coming in boom times. Does this still hold true?

MR: It’s been a while since we enjoyed a boom! However times of disaster, like now, encourage people to pull together, which fits the sharing spirit of izakaya, though apart from developments in the business model I can’t really see the form changing.

THS: Izakaya is a photography book in its own right. A personal fave is a small yet profound shot of a coat peg, can you talk about that photo and what led to its inclusion?

From Izakaya © 2008 by Mark Robinson, published by Kodansha International.  Photos © 2008 by Masashi Kuma

MR: It’s a trace; the worn wall around the coat hook is a written artifact of the countless patrons who have enjoyed themselves here, hanging their coats as they arrive, pulling them down as they leave, presumably satisfied, possibly laughing, each time unwittingly removing some of the building to take home or onto the street. I like this kind of found history.

THS: Between the sheer volume of customers, and the sheer variety of dishes on offer, what can a home cook learn from an izakaya kitchen to help them on a weekday night?

MR: Keep on hand lots of plastic containers of various sizes! Japanese meals are always made up of a range of small dishes and you wonder how the average home cook can throw together such a great range at short notice. The answer of course is they don’t, it would be impossible on the average daily schedule to make everything from scratch, so foods are kept from one meal to the next, and reused and repurposed. That’s how izakaya work, logistically.

THS: Have a favorite recipe from the book, and why?

From Izakaya © 2008 by Mark Robinson, published by Kodansha International.  Photos © 2008 by Masashi Kuma

MR: That’s a hard one but probably the Deep-fried Sardine Rocks (p.85, and recipe below). They’re meaty and rich, but also light. Deep-frying gives you the delicious contrast between the crisp outer layer and the airy insides. You don’t have to skin the fish as it says in the recipe, and any other oily fish will substitute.

Deep-fried Sardine Rocks

いわしの岩石揚げ

Iwashi no Ganseki-age

Makes 8 cakes

12 large whole fresh sardines, about 1 2/3 1b. (725g) total

small yellow onion, minced

A            

3 scallions, minced

6 shiso leaves, minced

1/4  tsp. minced ginger

1 large egg yolk, beaten

2 tbsp. potato starch

1 tbsp. yellow miso

1/8 tsp. hot mustard

Mild chili peppers, such as Anaheim or shishito, skin pierced

2 tbsp. grated ginger

1.      Cut off the heads of the sardines, remove entrails and wash thoroughly. Fillet and remove skin. With a sharp knife (a deba knife is best), mince the fillets. Alternatively, pulse into small chunks in a food processor. Transfer to a sieve and lightly drain excess water.

2.      Preheat the oil to 320°F (160°C). In a large bowl, combine the chopped sardines and A. Mix well by hand. Shape into 8 small cones and deep fry until the cones rise to the surface of the oil and are well browned, about 7–10 minutes. Transfer to a paper-lined dish to drain excess oil.

3.      Deep fry the mild chili peppers and transfer to a paper-lined dish.

4.      Arrange the fried sardine cones on a serving plate. Serve with the chili peppers and grated ginger on the side.

THS: In Izakaya, you talk about the kind of opening beer order to settle everyone in a party down, but after that is there a general through line for drink ordering?

MR: No, not at all, you drink what you like. But if you and your friends are interested in sake you’ll probably end up sharing a flask, probably taking turns to nominate a preference if there’s a range to choose from (some izakaya only carry a few).

THS:  Is sake on the ropes with the price, mixability, and extended shelf life of shochu?

MR: Sales are not strong in Japan and I don’t get a sense young people are picking up on it, although there are enthusiasts. Right now the big thing among younger drinkers seems to be highballs, usually a mixture of cheap whisky, cheap shochu, flavoring syrup and soda water. Erk! There has been some publicity for the brewers of the northern Tohoku region however, who suffered in the earthquake and tsunami, and hopefully that’s having an impact on their recognition and sales. Good sakes from the region include Nambu Bijin and Denshu.

THS:  Is it a man’s world?

MR: Yes and no. Izakaya still tend to be run by men, though there are many izakaya madames. It’s become completely normal in the past decade or so for women patrons to hit an izakaya on their own, and the presence of women has helped change menus; more healthy food, more drink choices. Generally speaking, women have also made izakaya more civilised than the hardcore men-only sake and spartan food bars of old.

THS: What is next for you?

MR: I’m writing, freelance editing, and food consulting. I have a book proposal on Japanese restaurants, another social/food-culture type thing, but it’s yet to be taken up.

A special thanks to Mark and all at Kodansha for making this piece possible. For more information on Mark or to purchase the book, click through to his site.

A Firm Middle Finger: Thoughts on the Beard Foundation Awards and Why We Are Not on Their Radar

Well it would appear that the otherwise great James Beard Foundation (you don’t write, you don’t call), have announced their awards for the year Monday night.

And, like all other years since 2004, the City of the Ciudad got shafted at their awards ceremony. Fine. Good.

That’s fine. For what we do here, isn’t on your radar. The high end chef has a hard time here. We are not a town of monocultures, of big white men cooking big white food for big white people. We are, instead the tropics. A rainforest of diversity with elaborate waggle dances going on.

Take for an example the truck culture we have here in Southern California. We kind of take it for granted now, but the thought of gourmet catering trucks specializing in a food is still a revolutionary idea. No insular high end restaurant (or storefront even) could have originally supported say, Korean BBQ tacos, or dosas, or empanadas, but here in the City of the Ciudad, they are here, in fact, just a Twitter feed away.

Oh and if you live in the United States, we still make a good chunk of the food that you eat, and the beverages you drink.

Related to that we have been the foot soldiers for year round CSAs and even the dreaded farmers markets.

And related to all that, can I mention the recent Artisanal LA festival that went on? There were a lot of great folk there. Jolokia Ghost Pepper in a Grinder from All Spice Café. Hooch from the Greenbar Collective. Creme Caramel LA. Good. Eagle Rock Brewery. Mystic Pizza L.A. Winnetka Farms. On and on. Each stall filled with people who are carefully and independently thinking about food, and not looking for someone on high to say what is good, and what is important.

So yeah. Fine. Here’s a firm middle finger. We’ll just keep making the food and drink that you will be eating in a few years time.

The Groundskeeper

I am looking at weather.com right now, and I can officially say we are in spring.

Not the everything is in bloom kind of period, but its toughest part, where it just hasn’t made up its mind what time of the year it is. And truly neither winter nor summer.

So for an example, the current temperature as I write this in the City of the Ciudad is 57. Temp in Wichita, Kansas? 91. And the reverse could just as easily happen in a few days time.

So I thought that a drink I have been making as of late would actually work well this time of year. One that would work well both in cooler and warmer climes, one that also shows off a common bit of produce this time of year.

I call it…

The Groundskeeper

Freshly squeezed juice of 2 small oranges

1 shot of gin

½ Shot of limoncello straight from the freezer

Splash of tonic water

Stir gently, and then pour over three cubes of ice in an old fashioned glass.

I have been told by neighbors that the house in which I live has an orange tree from the original orchard that stood in the area. I say that it makes this drink easier this time of year, just popping in the backyard to grab a couple. But regardless of where you are this is a good time of the year for them.

It is light and refreshing enough to drink on a hot day, yet its herbaceous nature stands out if in chilly weather.

About the name. People who have tasted the thing with all of its orange, lemon, botanicaliness say it is like drinking the garden department of a home improvement store, or it is like drinking “citrus and shrubbery.”

This may not be selling it.

But you have to trust me.

St. Patrick’s Day Toast 2011

Someone I met from Cork once told me that St. Patrick’s Day is a different thing in America than it is in Ireland. To him, America’s version was a product of diaspora (my word, not his), about the longing for land and people left, even if it is generations past. To him, it was also about the celebration of surviving and thriving.

Famine, conflict, you name it, drove people away, but never stopped a heart of people who survived and thrived…the Yeats, the Joyces, the Morrisons, or the creation of charities that made the world better.

The last few weeks friends and coworkers have given me a hard time for being a human news channel ticker in the face of the tragedies in New Zealand and Japan.  I would bleat the latest statistics out of being massively overwhelmed by each situation.

But I know these are people who have faced much in their histories and at the end of the day have also made the world better for them being in it.

So on this St. Patrick’s Day, I ask you to raise a glass.

To Ireland.

To New Zealand.

To Japan.

And to all those who survive and thrive.

The One About Newfound Family or Two Ginger Related Recipes

Family is a funny thing.

If, like yours truly, you don’t have a big one by blood, it can come in some unexpected places.

Neighbors for an example.

A few years ago, there was a joke in passing in the neighborhood that because I have the same name as a neighbor’s son, I actually was the neighbor’s son, leading me henceforth to jokingly start calling a couple “Mom” and “Dad.” And while my new found Mom is a year younger than me, the term stuck.

Yet they lived up to their names, and saw me through good times and bad. They celebrated victories, and cursed losses. They laughed at corny jokes, they invited me over for a beer after work, or a Sunday dinner.

Like family.

Last year, Mom became pregnant, and I coordinated meals for a few weeks amongst their friends. I debated about what to make for them, and decided that they didn’t need was something in a casserole dish. They also didn’t have the time to be dealing with component parts to assemble a meal. They also needed something that was light, nutritious and comforting.  What I made them I dubbed “Future Teri Chicken Bowls.”

It is a two step process, whereby you make a marinate chicken overnight, then cook and assemble bowls the next day and place in microwaveable reusable plastic storage containers.

I guarantee you it will save you time in the long run, as you  cook once en masse, then reheat from frozen at work, or in the case of Mom and Dad, after putting my brother to bed for a nap.

Recipe follows…

Future Chicken Teri Bowls

Marinade

________

I cup Soy Sauce (I go with Aloha Shoyu)

½ Cup Water

¼ Cup Mirin

1/3 Cup Brown Sugar

½ cup granulated sugar

Pinch Black Pepper

1 TBS Pressed Garlic

1.25 TBS Grated Fresh Ginger

Wait. What? Fresh ginger? I can’t use the powdered stuff that has been sitting on my shelf for lo the millennia? No my friend. Don’t be scared of fresh ginger. Buy a hand in the market, and take a carrot peeler to it to remove the woody skin from it. Use what you need for the recipe then pop in a sealable plastic freezer bag. You can then slice or grate straight from the freezer.

Meanwhile, back to the marinade.

Combine all ingredients into a bowl and stir until sugars dissolve. If they don’t, you can pop the concoction into a saucepan and stir over a low heat until it does. Make sure you have the marinade cooled before adding anything to it.

For the bowls I used:

________________

5-6 Chicken breasts (smacked a bit with the not sharp side of a tenderizer then cut into 1” cubes and marinated overnight)

2 Sweet yellow onions (Diced)

3 Sweet Red peppers (Diced)

3 Large Carrots (Cut in Chunks)

A Good handful of Green Beans (Cleaned and cut into 1”chunks)

A batch of Calrose rice from your National/Panasonic Cooker

 

Start steaming the carrots, and then add the green beans until both are cooked through. Don’t desiccate them. Keep them still fresh with a bit of give. Add to a large bowl.

Sauté peppers first, followed by onions until they are golden. Add to same bowl as carrots and beans.

With the same sauté pan, add drained and patted dry marinated chicken. Cook until chicken is done, and outside caramelizes, add to the bowl with the veg, and stir well to mix all ingredients.

Assemble a layer of rice, then the chicken and veg mix into reusable individual portion sized microwavable containers, and freeze. Reheat when hungry.

 

With more ginger to be used, I decided to do something else for my neighbors.

Ginger Limeade

1 c squeezed lime juice (about 10-12 limes worth)

3 tbs thinly sliced fresh ginger

4 cups water

3/4 cup sugar

Add liquids and sugar until dissolved. Toss in your ginger and leave to steep in your fridge for at least 5-6 hours, then pluck those slivers out with a strainer, squeezing the liquid from them back into the limeade. Less sugar? More sugar? Add more lime? More heat from more ginger? Sure. Do what you like. Regardless, store in fridge and serve over ice.

Both recipes are really satisfying stuff, and were apparently a lifesaver to my new found family.

It was the least I could do as they have been a lifesaver to me.

The One About What to Drink for New Year’s

I’m going to be honest with you; New Year’s Eve is one of the great “Amateur Hour” Holidays in the English speaking world. 

Mind you, it’s a distant third to its worst offenders, Valentine’s Day and St, Patrick’s Day. 

Look at the worst one first: ladies and gents, if you need one day for your significant other to tell you that that they love you and give a shit about you, we’ve got a problem.  What about the other 364? Where’s the love then, brothers and sisters?   And then there is the other offender.  If you need a day to have the excuse to get drunk…. Again… we got a problem.  Go get drunk, any other day of the year.  I’ll be at home reading Kavanagh and Heaney poems. 

But that’s not what we’re here to talk about today. Let’s talk about that distant third that is New Years Eve.  My wish for you brothers and sisters is the following.  That as this year comes to a close; you spend the time on New Year’s Eve reflecting more on the year that just took place, rather than the resolutions you’re going to end up breaking in a few days anyway.

 If you are reading this, you are up on the deal.  You’ve survived a frantic year of tumult, economic decline, and some really dodgy music and movies.  So you’re absolutely right to celebrate.  Which leads to the question that I usually get asked this time of year.  Which is… “What the hell am I going to drink New Years Eve?” 

I’ve had some of the best Champagnes in the world… and I’ve sucked back sparkling wines from New Mexico, to Italy, to Canada.  And the recommendations I have is to actually bypass the stuff that would be featured in a rap video when they cut to the shot of the girl dancing at table service.  No, you need to leave the big ticket champagnes and sparkling wines alone.  And with all due respect to Domaine LA and its great owner, Jill, who has been beating the drum for grower/producer sparkling wines, I would like to recommend to you the mighty, yet affordable, Cava Barcino.

Cavas are the sparkling wine of Spain. It’s done in the style of it fellow French brethren, with a secondary fermentation taking place in the bottle to make the magic happen.  Cava Barcino is a mix of 55% Xarello, 25% Macabeo, and 20% Parellada, and it comes packaged in a gorgeous bottle and label. 

On the tongue it has citrus notes, a hint of yeastiness, light nuttiness, and tiny effervescent bubbles that have real staying power in the glass and in the bottle.  Clocks in at $12-$15, and it out performs stuff four to five times its price.

So I know what you’re saying.  “I need to show off to my lady friend.”  I would suggest you need a different lady, and then mention that New Year’s Eve is about intimacy and scale. Intimate in the sense that if your significant other is over for your New Year’s “Party”.  You fundamentally want something that is affordable and delicious that can go with whatever food you’re presenting with it.  And, to put the emphasis on the person you are with and the activities you are doing instead.  New Year’s Eve can also be about scale, as in “Holy shit!  My significant other has just invited over twenty of her friends to ‘pop over’ for New Year’s!”  Cava Barcino is up for the task even then, allowing you to get a couple cases of the stuff without breaking the bank. 

I might add, it’s the sparkling wine that I keep on hand, all the time.  Ready to go, in the wine cellar.  All I need to do is push the model out of the way, and step over her to grab a bottle. 

I should mention as well that Cava Barcino comes from an interesting little pedigree.  It is from Luis Moya’s Vinos Unicos who was arguably the man and company of the year for 2010.  While others are sleeping, while others are corporatizing, Senior Moya is quite literally bringing it to the table finding unique wines from the old world that stand up to the scrutiny of the new and even venturing as far as producing his own wines for the consumer himself.  He’s the man to watch in 2011 to see what he comes up with next. 

In the meantime, find yourself a bottle of Cava Barcino.  And I wish you the Happiest of New Year’s.

Isle of Jura 10 Year

When the “S” hit the fan in my life recently, I was given a lot of advice.

Some highlights:

1. Hate women.

2. Give up on women.

3. Bed as many women as possible.

4. A combination of 1 & 2, or 1 & 3.

Or…

5. Open up a bottle, and drink what is inside.

Early. And often.

The problem I thought was if ever there was a time for me to do so, I would open a bottle and never crawl out.

So I purposefully decided to stay away from anything, and anyone I could get hung up on.

This meant I did not touch a drop of booze for a good four months.  But with friends, I had a glass of wine here, a beer there.

So it was a surprisingly big deal to have a glass of something myself alone again.

So I bought a bottle of Isle of Jura.

The distillery there was born in the 1800’s, and had been producing until the long stretch from WW I, and WW II kept the stills still. The rebirth of production came back to the island in the 1950’s and 60’s, and is now owned by Whyte & Mackay/United Breweries.

But what is the 10 year like?

It’s got an oily yellow honeyness on the eye. On the nose there is grassiness, hay, caramel, faint bergamoty citrus, anise, and a late alcohol hit. On the tongue it has a light peatyness with some stone fruit, and finishes with a bit of salt, peat, and sweet.

Would I get again? Um, I have had better from other distillers, but it is a good affordable allrounder, and particularly good for summer.

A nice way to raise a glass again.

Betty Shimabukuro

Betty Shimabukuro, courtesy Honolulu Star-Bulletin

I have a folder on my desktop named “Pending.”

It is a catch all for everything in progress in my life.

Sometimes it gets bigger than I like, cause sometimes, things hang around.

Something in that folder that was in there longer than I wanted was this interview with Betty Shimabukuro.

Not because of the interview itself mind you, because that was frankly done a awhile back.

It was because of this introduction.

Because I really want to do justice to Betty.

She is one of the reasons why this site exists. I had read her column By Request in the Honolulu Star-Bulletin for years, and picked up her books What Hawaii Likes to Eat and By Request: The Search for Hawaii’s Greatest Recipes, and they continue to inspire me to think about what I eat, and to delve into the history and regional qualities of food.

You see, her column is where Hawaiians go to try and taste again the food of their childhood, their time on a neighboring island, or something from a long gone restaurant. And she tracks the recipes down for these foods steeped in history.

As such, her work is unique and her books are a must have to expand your horizons in the kitchen.

If I can empower people to cook, to play with history and memory, to beat space and time while never leaving their kitchen even slightly to the amount Betty has, I would be a fortunate man. I hope you get a kick out of this interview and check out her work.

THS: Your column and your book are an intersection between food, memory, and history and is unique in print. Of all places for such a thing to exist, why Hawaii?

BS: Is it really so unique? Similar intersections must exist in every community — surely someone is writing about them. The uniqueness that feeds my work lies in the number of immigrant groups that came together in a single place — Hawaii — bringing their food traditions and initiating a singular brand of fusion. I would imagine, though, that all but the most homogenous communities have similar stories to tell.

THS: What defines Hawaiian cooking for you?

BS: Poi and Spam. Poi is an ultimate natural food, made of just taro and water, so pure that it is often the first solid food given to babies.

Taro arrived with the first Hawaiians, via canoe, and represents a deep cultural connection. And then you have Spam, the ultimate processed food, artificially flavored, artificially colored, artificially shaped. It came to Hawaii with Westernization and represents commercialization, convenience eating and gut-busting indulgence.

In Hawaii these two foods are equally revered, although not necessarily in the same camps. (Personally, I love both poi and Spam, but I am in the minority.) Did you know we eat more Spam per capita than just about any other community? Probably, I think everybody knows that. For me the poi-Spam dichotomy represents Hawaii’s inclination to embrace all foods, the natural, the unnatural and everything in between.

THS: What was the toughest recipe to track down?

BS: Hands down: Chicken Alice. Alice Yang sold Korean-style spicy chicken wings from an immensely popular little shop called Chicken Alice in the 1980s and ’90s. For years after she shut down, her fans pined away for those wings. Every month or so someone would write to me for the recipe. The reporter who wrote “By Request” before me had a number of Chicken Alice queries in her files. The food writer for our competing newspaper had been receiving requests for years as well. I tried to find her for quite a while, but in the end, Alice was presented to me as a gift. One of my friends called to say, “I heard you’re looking for Chicken Alice — she’s working at a bar called Club Star Palace.” It all was too easy to be true. He recognized her, asked her if she was Chicken Alice, she said yes, and he got her cell phone number. All I had to do was dial. Alice she said sure she’d give up the recipe. (Turns out the secret is to use a volatile Korean sauce made with chili peppers and garlic sold to make kim chee.)  I can’t believe no one got to her before me.

http://archives.starbulletin.com/2005/02/16/features/story1.html

THS: Any long standing unsolved recipes?

BS: I have a whole file full of these. Surprisingly many involve school cafeteria foods dating to the ’50s and ’60s. People seem unnaturally attached to these foods (on the other hand, I can’t think of a single thing from my school days I’d want to eat today). These recipes are nearly impossible to find.

One other top request is for Orange Chicken from Panda Express. The chain won’t give it up (I asked) and anyway the chicken comes into the local restaurants as pre-frozen, pre-flavored nuggets. I’d love to find a good copy cat.

THS: What is cooking at home like for you? Or do you end up going out more to get away from the stuff in the column?

BS: I cook most weekends — a couple of meals for eating during the week. I try to prep one meal that my son can finish for the family – my attempt to make him self-sufficient. Thursday is leftover day and on Fridays we eat out. A lot of times I fix recipes that I need to test for my column, so my husband and son are the guinea pigs. Mostly they don’t seem to mind, but the great oatcake experiment did get a bit tiring for them.

THS: Do you have a personal favorite recipe/story from your archives?

BS: My standard for the very best in feature writing is this: Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry, make ‘em say, “I never knew that!” and/or make them take action (in my case, that would mean make them go out and cook something). Except for the crying part I think a piece I wrote in 2002 about black chickens hit all those buttons.

Black chickens, also called silkies, are fairly well known in Asian circles, believed to have medicinal properties, but to Americans they are a great unknown. For this article I talked to chefs, people who sell the chickens, people who grow the chickens and an avian expert who could explain why they’re different from regular chickens. I was pleased with the amount of ground it covered. I think a lot of people said “I never knew that!”

http://archives.starbulletin.com/2002/08/28/features/story1.html

THS:  Did anything in your background lead you to this type of column?

BS: Short answer: No. I got this gig because the previous food writer moved to Maui and no one else wanted the job. I took it because my third child was very young and I figured it would allow me to work from home at least some of the time.

My background is in news reporting and editing. I approach recipe hunting and food writing the same way I’d approach any reporting job: Find people who know stuff you don’t know and get them to talk to you. Plus, as I wrote in my first column, “I have a stove and I’m not afraid to use it.” So far it’s worked out OK.

THS: This place has readers of all cooking skill levels and from lots of different areas around the world. Is there a recipe from your archives you could recommend for people to try and give a taste of aloha?

BS: This was a hard one, but I guess I’d say fried rice. You can make it with almost anything and you can make a lot at once, so you’ll be able to share, and that’s aloha. To represent our melting pot: Start with Japanese-style medium-grain rice (day old, preferably). Use Portuguese sausage, Korean kim chee, Hawaiian kalua pork, Chinese oyster sauce, a squirt of Filipino fish sauce. Maybe American Spam. Plus as many fresh veggies as you can chop up from your lower refrigerator bin. You could add pineapple for the tropical concept, but personally I don’t think that tastes good. As a matter of fact, to really get to know Hawaii’s food, forget about pineapple and coconut. We have so much more to offer.

Guri-Guri

It is the middle of March, and you find yourself in Hawaii.

You are on the island of Maui, and you are blessed by friends who said, “Just get out here, and we will take care of the rest.”

And they do, they put you up in the spare bedroom, they have you drop them off at their places of work, and give you their cars to explore the island, and you do, picking them up later that day.

You end up going places, seeing things, talking to people, and every day you end up at some point on a beach somewhere.

Unlike other places around the world, most of the beaches are quiet, and sure there are other tourists there, but there is also the woman who rolls in before going to work that day, or the family, or the friends who meet on their lunch break for some sun and share food.

And you are among them, in the warm water, falling asleep in the sun. At some point the heat and the sun will add up, even in March, and you want to get something to cool off.

Of course you can get some Shave Ice, but you are told by your friends about something that is uniquely Maui that you should try called Tasaka Guri-Guri.

So you head out from the beach you found yourself at to the Maui Mall in Kahului. There in this shopping center you head to the small store that sells a frozen treat unlike any other in the world. Guri-Guri is a hybrid, a hapa, like some of the most beautiful things on the islands, and in this case it is a something in between an ice cream and a sherbet, but with the flavor and vibrant color of shave ice.

It is smooth, and cooling, and delicious. You order it in a couple scoops and it gets served to you by awesome staff, who talk story with you, who mention to you how for decades this family run business has been here, how people coming home from neighboring islands bring ice chests to bring the stuff back with them. And you wish you could too.

The great Betty Shimabukuro (more from her next week) gave a recipe for the stuff in her column for the Honolulu Star-Bulletin, but it is best eaten on site.

So you eat your Guri-Guri in the parking lot, and a warm rain comes over the car for a few minutes and just as quick is gone. You will remember these moments the rest of your days, and can’t wait to get back to get more of this frozen treat so special to Maui.

But you have another beach to explore, and friends to pick up at work first.

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Tasaka Guri-Guri is at:

Maui Mall

70 East Ka’ahumanu Ave

Kahului, HI 96732-2115

(808) 871 4513