Beef... It's What's for Dinner

If there is one item in America that symbolizes success and wealth it's steak.  Because of the abundance of cattle lands in the midwest, it's the very heart of America's "meat and potatoes" cuisine.  While places like the Big Texan in Amarillo are the workin man's feast, the finer steakhouses like Keens Steakhouse in New York, are the equivalent of America's gentleman's club.   They conjure images of  black and white photos of political powerhouses and old boy networks, gathering to plot the future of government and business in America over a big bloody piece of meat, a glass of hard liquor, and only an unappetizing wedge of ignored iceberg lettuce as the only green in sight.   There is nothing more red blooded, two fisted, American than having a huge dripping slab of of red meat on your plate.

In the islands during my Po Po's time however, having a whole big steak all to yourself was practically unheard of.   It's true that Hawaii had our own cowboys.  People from the mainland are always surprised when I tell them that Parker Ranch on the Big Island is the largest independently owned ranch in the country (including Texas).   They're even more shocked when I tell them that our cowboys, the paniolos, who were originally taught by the gauchos of South America, frequently out-roped the Texas boys in competition back in those days.  However, while we did have access to the cattle, times were tougher then, and plantation workers were often on the poorer side.  My Po Po would tell me how when they were lucky enough to be able to buy a small steak, it would need to be split up amongst the whole family (which for her was like a dozen people).   You were lucky to get maybe a few small pieces.   Both my dad and my father-in-law will tell you, that's why gravy made from the steak was so important, because a little bit of the gravy over the rice meant that you could have some of the flavor even if you weren't privy to much of the actual meat.  But, as farmers from Asian countries weren't used to having so much meat in the first place, it wasn't such a stretch to slice the steak very thinly, so that even though you don't have much, everyone could enjoy a little with their rice and vegetables.    I think that's the concept that is what makes Blazin' Steaks so successful these days, and how they are able to serve a steak, rice, salad, and drink for their famous $6 price tag.  

What about when you finally did come into some money, and wanted to eat at a nice steak place?  My dad likes to tell the joke about the young man who all his life grew up eating only hamburger and never knew what a steak was, so when he was a bit older and finally saved up some money he went to a restaurant and orders a salisbury steak, and is dismayed when he's served another hamburger.  But Hawaii did have some nice places to go when he was just starting to be able to afford a steak.   My favorite place when I was a little kid was called Victoria Station.  I was too young to remember the food exactly (although my dad always considered theirs among the best), but as a little boy I could never forget the thrill of eating dinner inside of an actual railway boxcar parked on Kapiolani Blvd.  Not only has Victoria Station disappeared from our shores, but the enitre chain went bankrupt decades ago, and all that's left are memories even on the mainland.

Teppanyaki Chef at Kobe Steakhouse

Though a fine steakhouse may be the epitome of mainland cuisine, in the islands we of course would add our own island flair to our steakhouses.   Having such a large Japanese population, teppanyaki style steakhouses are of course very popular.    However, while audiences on the mainland thrill to the knife weilding, juggling acrobatics made famous by Benihana,  I always prefer our own local Kobe Steakhouse to the big mainland chain.   Images of Frank De Lima's old "Adventures of Kobe-San" commercials always come to mind, when I sit there and watch the teppanyaki chef work his magic.   Naturally, they've got all the gimmicky tricks, like the flaming onion volcano (a natural must being in Hawaii), but having the chef slice your steak perfectly and grill each individual piece ensures that each piece is perfectly cooked througout.   This is a sharp contrast to western steakhouses, where often the outside can get overcooked and the inside underdone.  Of course as a child of my generation, I can't help but associate teppanyaki steakhouses with that fateful scene from Robotech (or Macross in Japan) when Ben Dixon orders and begins eating his giant steak, just before getting called to scramble and being killed in combat.   The symbolism of the uneaten steak and the fragility of life is something I'll always carry with me. 

Flaming Onion Volcano at Kobe Steakhouse

Of course being in Hawaii, even our most famous mainland steakhouses will have some kind of local touch.  If you've ever walked into Hy's Steakhouse on Kuhio, you'll know that they are famous for their big broiler hidden behind a wall of glass and brass right in the middle of their old library themed dining room, like a big romantic fireplace.   But what is really memorable about the steaks at Hy's is that the fire upon which they smoke and broil their aged steaks is comprised of kiawe wood.   Kiawe as you may or may not know, is our own variety of mesquite.  Just as the volcanic soil and tropical climate make Maui onions and Kona coffee unique to their mainland counterparts, so does kiawe have its own unique smokiness.

My favorite steakhouse in the world however, would have to be Ruth's Chris Steakhouse at Restaurant Row.  They are originally a cajun/creole restaurant from New Orleans, and as such many of their dishes have a distinctly Southern flavor to them.   Their crabcakes, macaroni and cheese, and bread pudding all directly remind me of the style I had while visiting New Orleans.  But again, being in Hawaii, there are hints to our local flavor as well.   Ahi poke as an appetizer for example, is probably not something that you would find on the mainland.   But most significantly, they use Hawaiian salt to season all of their steaks here.   From the days when the old Hawaiians would pour ocean water over the lava rocks to let them dry, Hawaiian salt has given all of our local food it's unique taste  (exactly the same way New York water makes their pastrami unreproducable anywhere else).  So seasoning their steaks with Hawaiian salt, makes them taste completely different and local.

Cowboye Ribeye Steak at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse

The best thing about Ruth's Chris is how they serve your steak on a sizzling 500 degree heated plate.  The one thing that I hate most about eating a steak, is how halfway through it gets cold, and the fats within it congeal making the entire thing totally unappetizing. With the heated plate, your steak stays warm and succulent throughout the meal.  Just walking in to Ruth's Chris, the butter that they brush over the plates (and steak) fills the air with an intoxicating, saliva inducing aroma.

Creamed Spinach at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse

Even their side dishes are extremely rich at Ruth's Chris.   The creamed spinach is perhaps the most decadent vegetable you will ever eat.   Sure it's a leafy green, but with that much butter and cream, it becomes a completely sinful delight.  Their asparagus may be simply par boiled and crisp, but the fantastically creamy hollandaise sauce that accompanies makes it another guilty pleasure.   It may break the bank (and the waistline) to dine there, but I really love the place and can scarcely think of a more genuinely haute and oppulent venue for a celebration.

The sheer hedonism of enjoying such a huge steak often makes me wonder what my Po Po would've said if served one of those giant cowboy ribeyes.  Would she have enjoyed finally having one all to her own?  Or, coming from an era when she would have to share something less than a quarter of that size with a dozen other people, would eating the entire thing have just made her nauseous?  I wonder too if my son will ever really understand and appreciate how hard his family worked to get to the point we can afford to buy the steak he's enjoying.

Meat in Tube Form

So this all starts with my friend Jeff.   One year, I told him that I would take him out for his birthday (as it's customary to do), and asked him where he wanted to go.   I told him that we could go anywhere he wanted.  Nice steak place.  Manly rib place.  Stuff yourself silly buffet.   What did he choose?   He said he wanted to go eat hot dogs.   Naturally, I was of the mindset that, well...  you could certainly go for something better than hot dogs for your birthday, right?   But he said he saw on some travel program this awesome new gourmet hot dog place in town, and that he really wanted to go.    So this piqued my curiosity a little.   Gourmet hot dogs?   What's so gourmet about a hot dog?   So we went over to Hank's Haute Dogs in Kakaako.

Hank's really does offer gourmet hot dogs.   Specifically, they're a restaurant specializing in all different kinds of sausages.   Every day of the week, they've got a different exotic sausage for you to try.   Alligator.  Rabbit & Veal.  Buffalo.  Lobster.  Even Duck and Fois Gras.  Even their regular menu boasts a variety from churizo to bratwurst to andouille, and since we're in Hawaii gotta add Portuguese sausage to that list.  As it was Jeff's birthday, we decided to splurge and try a whole different variety of the hot dogs.   I gotta tell you that each one really tasted different.

Fat Boy at Hank's Haute Dogs

My favorite hot dog there, was the appropriately named Fat Boy.    This polish sausage is wrapped in bacon and deep fried.  Then covered with mayo, lettuce and tomato.   Do I really need to describe for you how this thing tastes?   It's everything that you imagine it to be.   Fatty, salty, crunchy, terribly bad for you delicious.  

French Fries at Hank's Haute Dogs

As an intermission, Hank's had probably one of the tastiest french fries on the island.  You know how when you go to McDonald's or wherever, and you order the fries, the best one is always the very thin, very tiny, super crunchy fry all the way at the bottom of the box?   Well at Hank's, all of the fries taste that way.   None of them are the thick, plump, potatoey fries you get at other places.   At Hank's, each one is a scrawny, kinda thin, somewhat limp, uber salty, uber oily, delicious bad bad for you thing.   If you're feeling really indulgent, then go on Saturday, and you can order the special fries that are fried in pure, unadulterated, unashamed, rendered duck fat.   Seriously.   And to top it all off, you get to dip them in some really awesome garlic aioli or wasabi tobiko dipping sauces.   That's literally icing on the cake, but they're fabulous.

Chicago Dog at Hank's Haute Dogs

The most classic hot dog at Hank's though, has to be their Chicago Dog.   This is done in authentic Chicago style.   It's uses real Vienna Beef.   So it has that extra "snap" when you bite through the casing.  It's also done with the classic Chicago toppings, yellow mustard, neon green relish, a pickle spear, some chopped onions, a slice or 2 of tomato, and the essential celery salt.   In Chicago, they call it being "dragged through the garden".  It's like having a hot dog with a small salad on top.  It's done absolutely authentically.

It's no surprise that the Chicago Dog should be their most classic item.   That's because Hank is originally from Chicago and he borrowed the idea (and menu) from a very famous Chicago institution, Hot Doug's Sausage Superstore.  Hank used to be a star chef in Chicago, helming a famous restaurant called Trio.  But he decided to retire from Chicago, and come to the islands, where his parents were from and owned a hot dog stand in Kapiolani Park in the 40's.   Everything about the place is really gourmet, even the macaroni and cheese has truffles in it.   The question is, are his hot dogs unique enough that people are willing to spend $6 to $12 per hot dog, when they can get one that is twice the size (over a foot long) along with a drink from Costco for only $1.50?   That's a seriously hard question, because Costco's dogs really are premium quality meat too.  We'll just have to wait and see if Chicago's style can take roots here in Honolulu.

Actually, Anthony Bourdain visited (and raved about) Hot Doug's, when he was in Chicago.   Being from New York, the rivalry between New York dogs and Chicago dogs is famous.  It's second only to the rivalry between New York style pizza and Chicago deep dish pizza.   If you've ever watched Bourdain's show, you'll know that he absolutely loves sausages (or meat in tube form as he calls it).  No matter where he goes around the world he seeks out the local unique variation of the hot dog.  He's had Gray's Papaya in New York, Pink's in L.A., a ripper from New Jersey, a tunnebrod rulleor in Sweden, a Bæjarins beztu in Iceland, a currywurst in Berlin, just to name a few.  

So what did Bourdain enjoy when he came to Hawaii?   Well, he went to Puka Dog.  If you haven't heard of it, that's because it's originally from Kauai, and the only location on Oahu is in Waikiki where most locals would never go.   Their gimick, is this truly medieval looking burner that toasts the inside of the cup-like bun, which the dog then slides into and the dressings like mango or guava relish won't drip out from.   I have to admit, the burner is ingenious.  Their bun is a very soft, spongy bun.   But the burner toasts the inside of the bun where the dog is, so the softness is accented with a crunchy toasted layer.   The sweetness of the mango relish goes very well with the saltiness of the hot dog, but then a lot of our various cuisines have discovered how well that combination of flavors works.   My only gripe, is that while their hot dog is tasty, it isn't very iconic of Hawaii. Maybe if they moved out of Waikiki and more locals got to try it, or if they are able to last another 20 or 30 years and establish some legacy, that would change.  But for now, there are so many more representative sausages that he could've sampled while he was here.  While Hank's dogs are awesome, their flavor is that of Chicago, and not our local fare either.  

Lup Cheong Manapua from 7-Eleven

If Bourdain had truly wanted a taste of Hawaii's hot dog variations, he should've started with the uniquely Hawaii version of the hot dog.  You know the bright red, salty one that Redondo's makes?   Or he could've tapped into our Portuguese heritage and tasted some of our own linguica or Portuguese sausage.   He could've stopped by an okazu-ya and had some good shoyu hot dogs.  He could've gone Chinese style, and gotten a smokey, sweet, lup cheong manapua.  Heck, he could've even stopped into 7-Eleven to try a hot dog musubi.  You can't get more local than that.    Any one of these would've made a much more, accurate representation of local tastes than what he encountered.  

Hot Dog Musubi from 7-Eleven

For my money though, the one hot dog that was the most iconic of all of Hawaii's hot dogs, was the waffle dog at KC Drive Inn.   For decades, they were the light at the end of Kapahulu.   They were the line, where you knew you were no longer in tourist territory, but firmly back on kama'aina ground.   They were one of the last drive inns that actually featured drive-in car side service. Almost all of us, have childhood memories of the crunchy sweetness of the waffle that surrounded the savory hot dog in the middle.   And of course, you absolute had to wash it down with a thick, creamy, ono-ono peanut butter shake.   The waffle hot dog and the peanut butter shake were the ultimate combination together too.   The sweetness vs. the saltiness, the crunchiness vs. the creaminess, they just worked so well together.    Sadly, like so many other Hawaii institutions, KC Drive Inn closed a few years ago.   But thankfully, the Asato family still makes their fantastic waffle dogs for fundraisers and special events.    The last time I had one was on the beach, from their little event booth, watching the Dragon Boat Races.   From the very first bite, I was flooded with memories of childhood. If Bourdain REALLY wanted to taste what local hot dogs are like, he should've found a KC waffle dog.

KC Waffle Dog from Panini Grill

20 to 30 years from now, we may look back and think about Hank's or Puka Dog the same way as KC Drive Inn.  Who knows how our culture and tastes will evolve.   If a simple street food can be transformed to something gourmet, or something so embedded into history, anything can happen.

When the Moon Hits Your Eye

In my mind, there is one and only one truly good pizza.    It is the one true pizza.   The pizza tha defines pizza.    The one pizza to rule them all, and in the darkness bind them.   It has to be Lombardi's Pizza in New York's Little Italy.  Nothing we have in Hawaii can even compare.   For that matter, no other pizza in the world can compare.   Period.   End of story. 

So what makes that particular pizza so good?    I could sound like a pizza delivery commercial and talk about how fresh and real their ingredients are.  But while their mozzarella and other toppings are really great, that's not what makes this pizza so spectacular.    Just like how it is really the bread, that makes or breaks a sandwich, it is the crust that defines the pizza.  Well Lombardi's has something no one else has.  They've got a bloody 900 degree oven!   900 degrees!!  Think about that for a moment.   Go run to your own oven and see how high it goes.   So what does a 900 degree pizza do to crust?   Well, it practically scorches the outside.  The thing is done in like 4 minutes.   But what comes out is incomparable.   The outside of the crust has charred, smokiness to it, and it is supremely crunchy.   Meanwhile the inside is still chewy and has some doughiness to it (like eating cookie dough).  The texture is unmatched.    No one can compare. 

If you believe them, Lombardi's also invented pizza.   As we all know pizza is Italian American, not Italian.  The predecessor to pizza in Italy is almost unrecognizable to us as pizza.   The same is true of chop suey and fortune cookines not existing in China.  Given New York's Italian American population, it's entirely conceivable that pizza was invented there, and Lombardi's has the first business license in history for a pizza restaurant.   So they very well may have invented pizza as we know it.  Most everyone in the country loves pizza, except for my sister.  Even my little boy, who is only 4 and has a somewhat undeveloped palate, loves pizza.   But I think my sister overdosed on it a bit in high school, and now the very thought of it repulses her.   But even she will go to Lombardi's.   That's how good it is.

So if we've got nothing like Lombardi's in Hawaii, what do we have?   Well, there's always the fast food pizza.   There's the ubiquitous red roofed Pizza Hut.  I do love getting a pan pizza from them as much as the next guy, but seriously, they are just fast food.  Being super oily and fatty is what makes them taste so good, it isn't about being truly authentic pizza.   We've also got Boston's Pizza.  They come the closest to being like a traditional New York style pizza, with big floppy slices that you're supposed to fold in half while eating.   Ironically, while it's the uber fatty meat lover's pizza that I like best at Pizza Hut, it's the veggie pizza that I like best at Boston's.   They've got some really big beautiful pieces of tomato, broccoli, olive and spinach on their pizza.    But again, they're baked down til they're like vegetable crisps rather than fresh plump vegetables.  The big drawback to Boston's is that if you don't eat the pizza right there and then, the crust gets all soggy and droopy, even after just a 10 minute ride home.  

Veggie Pizza from Boston's Pizza

So we've got fast food pizza, but what about a really nice sit down pizza restaurant?   In New York they have classy Italian restaurants that specialize in pizza.   What about us?   Well, if you're on Kauai, there's Brick Oven Pizza.   They're not bad, but their ovens don't get nearly as hot as Lombardi's does.   Also, their toppings just aren't as good.   If you're a UH student, then going down to Magoo's Pizza at Puck's Alley is practically a college requirement.  But, if you are willing to forego the supreme crust that Lombardi's has, there is one place where the toppings are almost as good.  My favorite pizza place here would have to be Rosarina Pizza in Chinatown or La Pizza Rina on Keeaumoku and King.  

I'm not exactly sure of the relationship between Rosarina and La Pizza Rina.   It think one's the mother's and the other is the daughter's, or they're sisters, or something like that.   In any case, they're pretty similar, but I think that La Pizza Rina (the daughter's?) is slightly better.   La Pizza Rina is a small little place, so you're lucky if you can get a table.  But it perfectly fits the bill of a sit down, date worthy, pizza restaurant (ie. not fast food).

Antipasto Salad at La Pizza Rina

To start off, I absolutely love their antipasto salad.   For one thing, they may have the greatest oil and vinegar I have ever tasted.   The oil is true olive oil and the taste comes through.  It is nothing like the oil and vinegar you buy in bottles at the store.   Secondly, they have these beautiful thick slices of salami and pepperoni on their salad that really taste like the real thing.   We're not talking about the cheap round red circles that hardly taste like anything you find on most pizza.   We're talking about true pepperoni, sliced thickly from a real pepperoni stick.  With a beautifully salty cured, slightly peppery, meaty taste.    The thick fresh pieces of cucumber, carrot, celery, and cherry tomatoes, and you've got a truly mighty salad.

Spaghetti with Meatballs at La Pizza Rina

If you're looking for another side dish, their spaghetti is pretty good as well.   They've got a kinda sweet spaghetti sauce, which also has a kind of peppery, herby kick to it.  

Combo Pizza at La Pizza Rina

 However, this is a pizza place, so really the only thing that matters is how good the pizza is.   You must be willing to gloss over the lack of Lombardi's crust (which is like saying you're looking at the Mona Lisa but ignoring her face), but here is one place which really has the best, freshest, ingredients.   Really!   Look at the peperoni.  We're not talking about skimpy thin little red dots the size of a quarter.  We're talking about a thick, beautiful slice of real pepperoni that is the size of an olympic medal.  The cheese on this thing isn't some lame shreeded chesse flavored product (ever notice how the more words they add the farther from the real thing it gets?).  This is real deli quality mozzarella, that has all the flavor and the thick gooeyness of real mozzarella.  The same goes for everything else on the pizza, from thick whole rounds of olives, to inch long pieces of Italian sausage (not little crumbled bits), to thick lines (not slivers) of still crunchy, still plump, still sweet, and still green and fresh green peppers.   We're not talking about a "chunky" pizza, we're talking about pizza with real whole slices of genuine ingredients.    The one surprising thing though is that their pizza sauce, like their spaghetti sauce, again has a sweetness to it.   I think this is one of their (and Rosarina's) signatures.   It may be the slight Asian influence of the family that created the place.   Some people may not like that sweetness, but I do.  It's unique.  It reminds you that though this is an Italian American dish, it's been touched by the local hands that made it.  

The one thing I really hate about pizza on the mainland is the so-called "Hawaiian" pizza.   As if adding a bit of ham and pineapple has anything to do with our real local cuisine.  You want a real Hawaiian pizza, add a little portuguese sausage or kalua pig to it.   Or better yet, find a real local family, and taste their interpretation of the classic dish.  

To Everything... Turn! Turn! Turn!

When I went to visit my sister on the mainland, I really got to like Greek food, particularly the gyro (by the way it's pronounced "yee-ro" not "jai-ro").  There's just something about that beef and lamb meat which is so succulent.  It's not as finely ground as a hamburger or meatloaf, yet it's much softer and more uniform in texture than a piece of steak.  I think it's all that time it spends spinning on a spit.  The constant turning and cutting means that every slice is perfectly browned and crispy, while the unexposed side remains so soft and yummy.   But you offset that meatiness with the cold, creamy (but not fatty tasting), slightly tart, brilliantly herby tsatsiki yogurt sauce and your mouth just wakes up with the flavor.   While, gyros are as common as a hamburger or hot dog on the streets of New York, Hawaii is pretty far removed from the Middle East and so we don't really get good Greek food right?   Or do we?

It's true, we don't have nearly the Middle Eastern influence that New York has being on the Atlantic.  However, we do have a number of good Greek restaurants.    Did you know, we even have an annual Greek Festival held at McCoy Pavilion in Ala Moana Park.    We do have a small Greek population, and even have a Greek Orthodox Cathedral here..   We've got quite a number of little Greek restaurants too.   If you're working downtown, you're probably familiar with Leo's Taverna.  If you attend UH, you're probably familiar with the Greek Corner at Puck's Alley, who make this totally addictive garlic mayo for dipping your fries in.  If you're in Kahala, you're probably friends with Sabas over at Olive Tree Cafe.  Ironically though, if I'm hungry for a gyro, it's not a Greek restaurant that I seek out, but an Egyptian one, The Pyramids on Kapahulu.

Maybe it's not so ironic.  In Hawaii we're all the way on the other side of the world, so we're not so accutely aware of it, but Greece and Egypt are just separated by a small strip of water called the Mediterranean.  They've got much shared history.   In fact, all of the cultures in that area that border the Mediterranean do.   When visiting my sister in New York, it wasn't a Greek place she took me to, but a Turkish one.   She has a good friend from Turkey (who by the way has this super suave Turkish accent that imbues his singing voice with romance.  You can imagine all the little girls swooning when he sings U2).   She took me to eat some savory halal meat off a cart on the street as well as a Turkish restaurant for "doner kebob" (pronounced "doh-nair").   Her friend explained that "doner means to turn and kebob... eh, kebob is a kebob"  (okay that bit of circular definition sounds a lot funnier with the Turkish accent).   Fittingly, the word "gyro" itself also means to turn in Greek.  So it shouldn't really be such a surprise that an Egyptian restaurant would have some really good gyros.

Buffet at the Pyramids

Just walking in, the Pyramids are appropriately themed with heiroglyphic wallpaper.  If you visit the Pyramids in the evening, the you will be treated to real belly dancing, and some tasty Egyptian fare, like clay pots of rice and spiced beef.    But to me, the time to go to the Pyramids is for lunch.  Pyramid's lunch menu is mainly their lunch buffet.  Unlike other buffets around town, the Pyramids buffet is pretty affordable.   But this is especially nice, because Greek food in Hawaii is actually kind of expensive.  While you can pick up a gyro in New York for the same as what you'd pay for a hot dog or hamburger, getting a small gyro here is always pricier than buying a plate lunch, so it's nice to be able to have as much as you want for just a little more.  They also don't fall into the trap of all buffets, which is letting the food sit, dry out, and overcook.  They only shave off a little at a time, but have a good turn around for guests.

So what's good there?    Well, the hummus is particularly good.   I don't even like chickpeas, because I don't like the powdery starchy texture.  But their hummus is wonderfully smooth and thick.   It's got a very mild taste, with very sublte hints of the oils and herbs against the smooth backdrop.   Shmear that onto some warm, thick, chewy pita bread and it's immensely satisfying.  On top of that, do you know how expensive it is to buy a small container of hummus in the grocery store these days?  Again, being able to have as much as you want here is fantastic.

My own gyro at Pyramid's buffet

Of course I love their beef and lamb kebob.    I love building my own little shawarma, with a stack of pita bread, Greek salad (lettuce, cucumber, feta cheese), beef and lamb kebob, and some tsatsiki to top it all off.  All of these bright flavors bouncing off each other.  Warm and chewy against cold and crisp.  Browned and meaty against tangy and herby.  They all add up to a perfect bite.    But again, being able to get as much or as little as you want is a big plus.  The first time I took my wife to eat a gyro at a Greek restaurant, I thought she would really like it, because she loves the gaminess of lamb.  But she was really turned off because the herbs in the tsatsiki were just too strong for her.  She doesn't like strong herbs or strong spices, and particularly doesn't like a lot of sauce (a remnant of the those old School House Rock cartoons where they warn you not to "drown your food").   So it took me a while to be able to convince her to try it again.   But she really likes Pyramids, because she can control exactly what she's adding to her plate in just the right proportions.  

Besides the beef and lamb kebob, Pyramids has one of the best barbecue chickens in town.   But it's not barbecue as in marinated in sticky sweet barbecue sauce.  It's not even glazed in kal bi or teriyaki sauce like we're used to.   It's simply got a few herbs to it, but the smoky charcoal flavor is what is so aluringly intense, and it brings out the savory chicken flavor.   It seems like a simple chicken, but the smokiness gives it so much depth.  My parents are also crazy about the tomato stewed okra at Pyramids.  Between my mom's diet, my dad's pickiness, my wife's aversion to spiciness, and my son's young palate, it's usually kind of hard to agree on a place to eat.   But somehow we all agree that we like Pyramids.   That really says something.

We really are on the otherside of the world from the Mediterranean.   As such, I can never really comment on the authenticity of Mediterranean flavors that we have here.  But the world we live in always amazes me, that we even are able to enjoy tastes from the other side of the planet.

If I Can Make It There

Right around the time you're a college kid, you just can't wait to get away from the islands.   It's partially because you want to see what the rest of the world looks like, partially because you're anxious to stretch your wings and live away from your parents.  This is pretty much exactly what happened to my sister after high school.   In addition to that, whereas I am a local boy through and through, and felt as incapacitated as Aquaman out of the water being away from the islands, my sister is sort of a chameleon.   She really truly takes on the personality of the place where she's living.   When she was home, she danced hula, played ukulele, and was as Hawaiian as can be.  When she went to Seattle for college, she was totally like a coffehouse, rain drenched, Pacific Northwest girl.  When she went to New York for grad school, she became the total walk fast, hyper active, East Coast, big city girl.    It's almost amazing looking at her at different stages in her life, because you just couldn't believe how different she was depending on the friends she had and the place she was at.   She becomes totally entrenched in the culture there.  Luckily for me, when I went to visit her for Christmas in New York, I got to see the big city through her eyes.  

I will always be an island boy.   To me standing in New York is simply overwhelming.   The buildings there make those on Bishop Street look like they're built out of Legos.   The sheer number of people there, hurrying all around you makes you claustraphobic even if you aren't.   For New Yorkers, walking 40 blocks to pick up lunch is an everyday occurrence, I kid you not.  I felt lost.  I felt insignificant.  I felt like grain of sand looking up to see an entire pail being poured on me.  But my sister helped me filter through noise and mayhem.  She showed me her New York.   She showed me the little pockets of culture and humanity that cumulatively comprise the sea of confusion.   And of course, one of the simplest ways to show this to me was to feed me.

Perhaps my favorite taste in New York is the one that it is so synonymous with, the New York deli.   As a tourist, you can't help but visit places like Katz Deli, made famous by Meg Ryan's orgasmic performance in When Harry Met Sally.   Where I simply can't begin to describe the thick, juicy, tender cuts of pastrami and salami, piled super high on your bread.   If you've never tasted Katz's pastrami, you may think you know what pastrami tastes like, but you're sadly mistaken.   As a musician, she of course also had to perform at Carnegie Hall, and take me to the  nearby Carnegie Deli.   Their pastrami is not quite as flavorful.  But the sheer size of the stack of thinner sliced meat is enough to turn your head.   It is a solid 6" think pile of pastrami between your slices of bread, and that is not an exaggeration.   Their sandwiches are also a bit more dressed than Katz's.   Both places are an experience as unique to New York as plate lunches are to Hawaii.   It would be near impossible to recreate the experience outside of the big city, but for a while, we had such a place.

The first New York style deli that we had was on the edge of Ward Center, called Bernards New York Deli.   They were the first place I had ever tasted one of those black & white cookies that Jerry Seinfeld made famous as a metaphor for harmonious racial relations.   But while they had the right menu, they didn't make the same impression on me that the real New York delis did.   By the time I had come back from visiting my sister, they had long closed, but another place had opened up in Kaimuki called, A Taste of New York Deli.    Having recently come back from the big city, I was astounded by how much they got it right (although native New Yorkers would probably disagree). 

Taste of New York Deli was opened up by a couple from New York, who missed having access to their favorite deli foods here in the islands.   So seeing a vaccuum and an opportunity in our culinary landscape, they opened one of their own.   The first thing you noticed when eating at Taste of New York was the big tub of pickles sitting at your table.   Unlike a jar of Vlassic or Claussen, these pickles were huge, almost the size of a regular cucumber, about 8" and thick as an old silver dollar.   In New York, all of the delis served 2 varieties, half-pickled and fully-pickled, whereas Taste of New York only served the former.   But seeing the pickles alone was good sign, for I had never seen them anywhere outside of the big apple.   The second thing that they got just right?   The menu was filled with triple decker sandwiches named after famous New York celebrites, like Sarah Jessica Parker and Al Rokker.  Yes they were pricier than what you would normally find here (almost 3 times the price of a plate lunch), but actually the prices in New York aren't that cheap either.   But what really impressed me was how good they actually tasted.   Their pastrami wasn't sliced thick like Katz's.  It was thin as a CD, but it was stacked almost as high as Carnegie Deli's, about 4" high.   But it was always really smokey and salty and flavorful.   It was incredibly juicy, juicier even than Carnegie's.   Their reuben actually had sauerkraut, deli quality provolone and real Russian dressing.   You see French and Italian all over the place, but Russian dressing isn't so common.   It was absolutely delicious.  Along side their pastrami, corned beef, cow tongue, and chopped liver, they also had enormous slabs of New York Cheesecake which were incredibly rich and creamy.

While they were a good "taste" of New York, they really didn't have everything a true Jewish deli would have offered.   They didn't have good blintzes.   They didn't have matzo balls.   They didn't have gefilte fish.   They did have good salmon lox and bagels, but the popularity of lox and bagels has extended well beyond the esoteric confines of a little Jewish deli.   They did have Dr. Brown's sodas.   But the thing that I really missed the most from New York and wished that they did have, were egg creams.   What the heck is an egg cream?   Well, no it doesn't have any real egg in it.   It's not egg nog.  It also doesn't actually have any cream in it.   The closest analogy would be that it tastes like a melted soda float.   Imagine a root beer float.  Now imagine it with chocolate ice cream instead of vanilla, and with seltzer instead of root beer.  Now imagine the ice cream melted and mixed in, and you've kind of got the taste of a good egg cream.   Egg creams are a Brooklyn institution, but they were sorely lacking from Taste of New York's menu.

Both Bernard's and Taste of New York Delis have closed, and now it's just about impossible to find the same authentic pastrami in Hawaii.   We are after all, all the way on the other side of the country, even moreso than the West Coast.   The closest thing we have to good salami is Hickory Farms', and even their permanent store closed here, only offering seasonal samplings at Sears.   As diverse as our culinary landscape is, losing representation from the big city is still a significant loss.  

Sometimes, I am glad for my sister' wanderlust, as it broadens our exposure to other opportunities, but still we can't wait for her to come home again.