The first time we went back to visit my sweetie’s family on O`ahu (I had already met them on one of their visits to Seattle), we flew into Honolulu, picked up a rental car, and drove across the Ko`olau range to their home on the Windward Side. I was immediately invited to sit with her dad out on the lanai, where pupus would be served.
He handed me a set of disposable chopsticks (with a courteous question as to whether or not I was okay with chopsticks – which I was), and in front of us was a dish of ahi poke.… continued…
Two guys are opening their surf shack. One of them is digging perfectly spaced holes in the sand, the other is dropping bright yellow umbrellas into the holes and popping them open. A man sits on the stone wall facing the surf, barefoot, a cell phone glued to his head, a deep frown marking his face. How can he be so unhappy, I wonder, we are in Waikiki, it is a balmy 78 degrees and there’s a light breeze coming off the ocean.… continued…
The Ohana Beachcomber: I have to be honest and tell you that I was so absurdly busy while I stayed here that my room left little impression. It was fine, I was comfortable, the room was quiet and the folks that worked here were very friendly — I especially appreciated the valet parking guys, they were total sweethearts. While I can’t say much about the room, I can tell you that the hotel does a couple of things that I did remember and appreciate.… continued…
There’s a whole complicated process around making mochi that I can’t explain properly. I remember something about a mallet and a lot of pounding, and how it’s some unfortunate person’s role to flip the mochi between swings of the mallet. There’s a lot of pounding and the end result is something that’s a lot like playdough only much more edible. That stuff, the result of the pounding and flipping, is the actual mochi (rice paste?), the wrapper, the last layer of this traditional Japanese treat.… continued…
In order to meet Brooks Takenaka at 5am, I fall out of bed at 430, groggy, dizzy, and luckily, jet lagged enough so that it’s not too much of a shock. I’m happy not to be driving, it’s hard enough to navigate Honolulu by day, all those street names made up of Ks and Ls and Is all run together. Luckily, I’ve overlapped in Hawaii with photographer and travel buddy Peter Carey and he’s psyched to tag along, even at 5am.… continued…
