Much Mahalos : Part IV - Lucious Leftovers

I love leftover Thanksgiving turkey.  Yes you're eating turkey for the next week or so, but with my mom's turkey you don't really get tired of it.   Some people may complain about all of the leftovers.   I, on the other hand, see it as a wonderful sign of prosperity.   With these tough economic times, it is a luxury and a sign that we're still doing okay when an excess of food is seen as a dilemma.  Thanksgiving is supposed to remind us to be thankful for what we've got, but to me it is the abundance of leftovers that should make you appreciate having so much food to eat.  

My favorite memory of the day after Thanksgiving was back in high school.   I had invited the guys over to hang out, play some video games, and just chill.   What's important to keep in mind here, is that I said "the guys", not just "my friends".  This being a guy's hang out, we were naturally raiding the kitchen for food, and being the day after Thanksgiving, the leftover turkey was the star attraction.  So we were all sitting there, hanging around the kitchen table, with a huge dead bird in the middle, and a very very large knife.  There's something primordial about hanging out with the guys, feasting on the carcass of a very large dead animal.  Just carving off big pieces of meat and eating with your hands.   All we needed was a little bit of fire, and the caveman like, testosterone filled, male bonding would be complete.   Needless to say, my parents were quite shocked when they came home and found that we had completely devoured the leftover turkey.

It will be a while still before my sons are at that stage of mass consumption.   So meanwhile, there are so many possibilities for that leftover turkey.    A lot of people on the mainland, like to make a nice turkey a la king, with a creamy sauce, and celery and carrots and peas and serve it over pasta or rice.  It's a fairly simple dish.  But the classic American approach is of course the turkey sandwich.

Turkey Sandwich on Japanese Bread from St. Germain's

As I've said before, the key to a good sandwich isn't what's in it but the bread that holds it together.  It's a baker's mantra that good bread will make up for bad filling but good filling will not make up for bad bread.  Since my mom's turkey is so incredibly awesome, even cold the next day, I would only want to pair it with the best bread I could find.   For me, there are 2 candidates.   My favorite sandwich bread is of course the classic Japanese style bread at St. Germains.  Japanese bread just has the ultimate uniformity and density of texture for a sandwich bread.  It can hold together a big sandwich where other breads would get really thin, smashed, or fall apart in your hands.  As a purist, sometimes I don't want a lot of other fixings on my sandwich.   My mom's turkey is so awesome, that I often just want turkey, bread, and a little mayo.  Like with sushi, and all other Japanese food, when you're looking at the starkness of very few ingredients, then each ingredient must be of excellent quality enough to shine alone.   My mom's turkey is like that and really only St. Germain's bread can accompany it like that.   Japanese bread is a little pricier than any other loaf of sliced bread you'll find on the island, so it is always a luxury to me, but for my mom's turkey it's way worth it.

Turkey Sandwich on French Bread from Foodland

Alternatively, if you go to Foodland, you can pick up a loaf of their fresh baked French bread for about $2.  That's really cheap for a 2 foot long loaf of such great bread.  I would cut a slice down the entire length of the loaf and open it up.   Inside goes a layer of provolone cheese, a layer of turkey, and a layer of cheddar (muenster or havarti cheese also goes really well with the turkey but they are more expensive).  Then the entire loaf goes into the oven at 350 degrees for about 10 minutes.   What comes out is a melty, gooey, deliciously hot sandwich which re-invigorates the turkey taste.   But what's best about it, is that the crust on the French bread gets super crunchy, just about the most perfect crunch you can get on a French bread.   It's just awesome.

Turkey Jook with Char Siu at Zippy's

While the leftover Thanksgiving turkey sandwich is an American tradition, in Hawaii, no Thanksgiving would be complete without having some turkey jook.   Even after devouring all of the turkey meat, no Oriental family in Hawaii would feel comfortable wasting those magnificent turkey bones.   Oriental cultures waste no part of anything, and discarding such tasty bones would be paramount to a cardinal sin.  Some people in Hawaii even look forward to the turkey jook at Thanksgiving more than the turkey itself.  Turkey jook tastes so much better than any other jook at any restaurant.   The primary reason is that in order to be economical, most restaurants boil a huge pot of plain white rice jook, and then add ingredients to it at the last minute when you decide what kind of jook you want.    Thanksgiving turkey jook on the other hand, is boiled with the remains of the leftover turkey, so the entire stock imbues that strong turkey flavor.   The difference is like night and day.   Of course it just wouldn't be economically feasible for any restaurant to do all of their different types of jook that way normally, but at Thanksgiving a few restaurants (not necessarily Chinese restaurants, but mainly those local places who cooked a lot of turkey for Thanksgiving in the first place), would feature turkey jook afterwards.   Such was the case when I found it served at Zippy's, with a side dish of char siu.  

Of course, there are many instances when home cooking far exceeds restaurant fare, such as with my mom's spaghetti or my aunty's pho.   No restaurant in the world could ever come close to making jook as good as my Po Po used to.   When I was very little, one of my favorite memories of the day after Thanksgiving would be running down the hill with my dad to go to Po Po's house for jook.   My mom would have to go to work, and my sister wasn't born yet, but I would have the day off from school and my dad (as a State worker) would have the day off too.  So he and I would go down to Po Po's house in the late morning for a jook brunch.  Inevitably, when we would open the door, the big pot of jook would be bubbling on the stove and you would walk through all of that heavenly turkey scented steam as you walked in the door.   Po Po would be standing in the kitchen washing dishes or cooking something else.   Her brother, my grand uncle, would already be seated at her old 50's still kitchen table starting on his bowl.   My dad would sit down across from him, and I would sit between them.  The warm jook would taste so good on the slightly chilly, crisp November mornings.   They were really happy memories.

My Aunty's Turkey Jook

Since my Po Po's gone, and my mom makes the turkey, it's my aunty who now makes the jook.   She makes hers ever so slightly different from my Po Po.   She adds just a bit of grated carrot that gives it a slight sweetness.   My wife and I have a disagreement going whether she should add peanuts or not, as I really don't care for peanuts messing up my nice smooth jook, but my wife likes the crunchiness.  Of course we all agree that turkey jook must absolutely be garnished with a sprinkling of salty, crunchy, minced chung choi (or salted turnip).   Both her jook and my Po Po's are boiled so well, that you hardly see individual rice grains.   Unlike those places that don't cook it nearly enough, and the jook is more like a rice soup, my aunty's (and my Po Po's) are cooked so that the rice seems to combine into a nice smooth uniform texture.   But the biggest difference from Zippy's jook is the amount of turkey flavor in it.  Even Zippy's needs to have a cost effective turkey to water ratio to turn some kind of profit.   My aunty's on the other hand maintains a much stronger turkey to water ratio and thus a much stronger turkey flavor.   Ultimately though, no restaurant turkey could compare to how good my mom's turkey tastes.   Therefore no restaurant jook would be able to compare to my aunty's jook, which takes on all of the flavor of my mom's turkey. 

Having a nice bowl of turkey jook is the perfect way to cap off the Thanksgiving holiday.  Despite the excess of the feast itself, using all of the remains reminds us to be true to the spirit of being thankful for what we've got.

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.

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.

Perfectionism in a Bun

When it comes to bakeries on the mainland, it's usually the French bakery that reigns supreme.   Here in Hawaii, it is the Japanese bakery that is the place to go for the best stuff.  Japanese bakery, you say?  But, how can that be?  Aren't baked goods a European thing?  What do Asians know about making baked goods?  Well, attribute it back to the Japanese obsession with perfectionism.    The same care, attention to detail, and meticulous precision that goes into making their udon, goes into their baked items.   There are many little Japanese bakeries around the island, but the one that I like most, the one that kind of sets the standard for all the others, is St. Germain / Dee-Lite Bakery.

Sandwich Bread from St. Germain

The Japanese originally learned how to make bread (and all other baked goods for that matter) from the Portuguese.   That is why the Japanese word for bread, "pan", is so similar to the Portuguese word for bread, "pao".   But like cars and electronics, once they get their hands on something they go to excruciating lengths to perfect it.    Look at their basic sandwich bread.   Only the Japanese could make a slice of bread so completely perfectly square.   Every slice the exact same thickness.   It's exactly the same as how they were genetically engineering watermelons to be perfect cubes that could be stacked for storage.  But it isn't the shape that is so wonderful about their bread, it's the texture.   The bread at St. Germain isn't light and poofy like buying a regular piece of white bread.   It is far denser, but at the same time incredibly soft and spongy.  Imagine a single cotton ball in your hand, how light and delicate it is.  But at the same time, it falls apart when exposed to wetness (like the filling of your sandwich).  By contrast, imagine stuffing your hand with 20 cotton balls.  The cotton is still very soft and squeezable, but now it's got some strength to it (to hold together your sandwich).  That is what St. Germain bread is like.   And every single slice is like that.   Their bread has complete uniformity of texture (no air pockets), throughout the entire slice, throughout the entire loaf, throughout every loaf you buy.   It is my second favorite bread in the entire world.   (My favorite still goes to the French bread at Saigon's, because of the flaky, crunchy crust which gives it an edge.)  It's more expensive than buying a loaf of Love's, but it's worth it.

Besides their bread though, it is all of the little Japanese style pastries that I really love at St. Germain.   They are also not what you would expect out of a pastry either.   While they have their assortment of sweets, it is the savory pastries that I like the best.   Getting one of those for example, makes for a far more satisfying breakfast than something sugary.

Corned Beef Doughnut from St. Germain

Forget jelly filled doughnuts.   Take one bite and the jelly squirts all over you anyway.   I would much rather have one of the ones from St. Germain, that are filled with curry, or in this case, corned beef hash.   They almost taste like a variation of the croquettes you get at the okazuya.

Pizza Roll from St. Germain

Can't have a bakery without baking some form of mini-pizza right?  The pizza rolls from St. Germain are really superb.

Tuna Roll from St. Germain

My favorite thing from St. Germain though, used to be their awesome tuna rolls.   The tuna roll used to be in more of a danish form (like their pizza roll), but they've since switched it so it's more of a round bun with a bit of tuna in the center.   The bun is a little "breadier" so I'm not as fond of it, but it still tastes good.

Ham Roll from St. Germain

In the absense of the original tuna danish, my favorite thing at St. Germain is the ham roll.   Forget apple or any fruit danish, getting one with ham and a little dollip of mayo is the way to go.   I used to like the tuna roll more because of the anticipation of hitting that little pocket of tuna and mayo (kind of like biting around the cake part of a Hostess Cupcake and saving the pocket of cream filling for last).   The ham roll on the other hand has ham, mayo, and onion throughout, which makes for a more even bite, but none of the "Bam!" of hitting that pocket in the center.   Still the ham roll is delicious, just the thing for an early breakfast or afternoon snack.

An Pan from St. Germain

However, if there were one quintessential item in the repetoire of Japanese bakers, it would have to be an pan.   The little roll stuffed with azuki beans is not unlike a black sugar manapua, or a black sugar mooncake.   I remember watching a magazine style TV show from Japan once, that featured a young man who gave up a lucrative white collar career to pursue his dream of being a great baker.  The man got a job working at a bakery, apprenticing under the master baker.   From the get go, the baker wouldn't let him do anything because he felt he didn't have enough spirit.  So all he would allow him to do was greet customers with traditional call of "IRASSHAIMASE!!!".  But even then, he felt that he was not up to par, so the man had to practice in the basement, yelling at the top of his lungs til his voice was hoarse, for months, until he was deemed worthy.  After more months of greeting customers, the master began to teach him how to make his first item, an pan.  But whatever he baked, the master did not deem good enough and would not sell it.   Again, he had to practice for months and months before the master would even taste his product.   When he finally did taste it, he said it was garbage and made him go many more months before testing it again.  All the while, the man worked such long hours at doing this every day, that he hardly ever saw his family.  Only once a week, on Sunday, did he see his children, and when he did he was naturally exhausted.   Finally, after months, the man was able to make an an pan that the master considered acceptable.   That was only the first of the several hundred items that the man needed to learn how to make.   The story was awe inspiring, and daunting to say the least.   In America, if you were to go through that much verbal abuse and belittlement, you would quit in a heartbeat.   In Japan, it is the norm.   That's discipline man!  That's dedication!  That show has stuck with me all my life, as an example of the work ethic they have.   I ask myself all the time, could I handle that?   Could I withstand that much abuse to perfect my craft?   Could you?

An Pan from St. Germain

I don't think that the bakers at St. Germain go through that kind of years long boot camp to learn how to make an pan.  But in Hawaii, their an pan is second to none.  Maybe here, we do things a little less hardcore, but we enjoy life more.   It is Japanese perfectionism, tempered with the spirit of Aloha...to me, the right balance.

Marie! The Baguettes! Hurry Up!

There is nothing better than sitting a little cafe by the street watching the people walk by, and enjoying perfect French bread and French coffee.   I mean truly perfect French bread that you can smell baking in the back, served to you still steaming hot and fresh.  You break the bread and can hear that satisfying crunch as the crust crumbles a little onto your plate. The steam from the pillowy, cotton dough in the middle mixes with the robust earthiness of the French coffee.   Where else can you get this but right on the streets of Saigon.   Wait... did I say Saigon?   I suppose you could get it in Paris too, but I think Saigon is closer to us than Paris. 

Vietnam is, among other things, extremely French.  With the French, having occupied thier country for such a long time, it is no wonder that they've very heavily influenced the Vietnamese culture.   But it isn't one of those instances where a culture influences another and they've blended so much that it's difficult to see where one begins and the other ends.   It's more like a chocolate/vanilla swirl.   The French aspects remain distinctly French, and the native Vietnamese aspects distinctly Vietnamese.  They co-exist side by side in everything from the languge to the food.   They are mixed together yes, but you can still distinctly discern the chocolate from the vanilla.

Hawaii gets its European influence from the British and the Portuguese.   Unlike places further south, like Tahiti, the French didn't really have much of a foothold in our history.   But as the Vietnamese came over, they brought with them their delicate balance of European and Southeast Asian flavors, and got us totally hooked.    This is perhaps most evident in our favorite Vietnamese sandwiches, known as Banh Mi.

When it comes to Vietnamese sandwiches in Hawaii, Ba-Le pretty much has the monopoly.  They're all over town, and probably the first place that comes to mind when people think of Banh Mi.  However, as great as Ba-Le (which BTW means Paris in Vietnamese) can be, the problem with a chain that large is one of consistency.    I have walked into Ba-Le shops where the bread is so stale, I have to use my back molars to crush through the crust.   Then I couldn't bite off a mouthful, but would have to tear it off.  Even after much difficult chewing, it's difficult to swallow because it's so dry.   This is not to say that all Ba-Le are like that, I have had some really good sandwiches at Ba-Le, but unfortunately you have to know which ones are the good ones and which aren't.   Alternatively, you can find a small mom and pop shop that you know is consistently good.   My favorite place for Banh Mi, would have to be Saigon's on Waialae (right next door to Toys-n-Joys).

Ham & Steamed Pork Sandwich at Saigon's

Ever heard the saying that a sandwich is all about the bread?   Good bread makes or breaks a sandwich.  It's more important than the filling.   Good bread will make up for mediocre filling, but good filling will not make up for mediocre bread.   It's sort of a baker's mantra.   Well, to me the best bread, is found at Saigon's.   Ask them to double toast it, and invariably, the crust is flaky and crunchy, but not too hard.   The inside is soft and has a nice chewiness, a sponginess to it.   The bread itself is completely French.   The addition of a nice, rich shmear of pate or mayo, even more French.   But the other ingredients, pickled carrot, daikon, and cucumber with a little Chinese parsley, is completely Vietnamese.   My favorite sandwich includes another dichotomy of ham (totally French), and Vietnamese sausage or gio (totally Vietnamese).  The gio is something like fish cake or possibly bologna in texture.   But it's flavor is a wonderful pork and fish sauce mixture, that is sublimely savory.  Just like chocolate/vanilla swirl, the Eastern flavors and Western flavors are still very distinct, but taste perfectly in harmony with one another.

Lemongrass Chicken Sandwich at Saigon's

Want to go with a spicier, herbier alternative?   The lemongrass chicken sandwich has the same heady lemongrass flavor as Bun Bo Hue.  The spiciness is just enough to give it a kick.  But it is that wonderful aroma that the lemongrass gives it, which is so distinctly Southeast Asian.   The sauce from the chicken also makes this sandwich moister, kind of like dipping in au jus.

Beef Stew at Saigon's

When it comes to dinner time though, there is a better way to enjoy Saigon's fantastic bread.   That is having the bread accompany their wonderful beef stew.   Now this beef stew is not like our local beef stew.   For one thing, it is a very thin stew, almost a soup.  For another, the ingredients are classically French, some carrot and onions.   But the beef is unbelievably tender, and combined with the melt-in-your-mouth beef tendon, this is almost the equivalent of the ngau lam mein over at Mini Garden.  Finally the stew has all of those incredibly aromatic herbs that the Vietnamese use.   But what makes this so different, is that unlike how we eat our thick, tomatoey beef stew over rice, this beef stew is meant to have the bread dipped in it, the French way.   So in one mouthful, you have the fantastic texture of crispy, crunchy crust and soft cushiony bread, mixed with that incredibly complex symphony of herbs and beefiness so characteristic of Vietnamese cuisine.   The combination of flavors and textures is just mind numbing.   It's almost a sensory overload.

So now that we've got the best, flaky, crispy, crumbly bread, we need that heady French coffee to accompany it.   The funny part is that most Vietnamese restaurants in town these days, get their French coffee by way of yet another French town, New Orleans.   Specifically, most Vietnamese restaurants here serve coffee from the famed Cafe du Monde, in the French Quarter.  But the way they serve it is distinctly Vietnamese.   With that personal coffee press, where you get to watch the slow thick drops of coffee fall one by one into the waiting pool of condensed milk below.   It's not a morning cup of joe you gulp down.  This coffee is meant to be anticipated, as you watch it brew drip by drip, smelling the aroma the whole time.  And when it's finally done, and you swirl the dark brew with the creamy condensed milk together and pour it over ice, there is nothing better to accompany the great French bread.

Just like the little cafes you'll find in Paris, Saigon, or New Orleans, Saigon's in Kaimuki is just that wonderful quaint little streetside family owned shop.  It is where East and West swirl in perfect harmony, one drop and one bite at a time.