April 2013

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An afternoon in Dole Park

Big day in Lanai City. In front of Café 55, several women have set up tables selling slippahs, quilts, baskets, and leis made of shells. Meanwhile, across the street in Dole Park, locals are barbecuing linguica, chicken and pork satays, whole fish. Macduff buys a plate of curried chicken and Asian noodles. I go for some chicken katsu (sort of a Japanese-style fried chicken) and some samosas stuffed with shrimp. Next to the barbecue, a large woman oozing out of a folding aluminum chair has a little Styrofoam cooler at her side that is full of Spam California rolls. Two bucks each.

photo by Macduff Everton

photo by Macduff Everton

This little food scene pretty much sums up the mix of cultures on Lanai. There are about 2,500 full-time residents on the island but you’d be hard-pressed to find more than a couple dozen  who are pure Hawaiian. In fact, the largest ethnic group here is Filipino, followed by Japanese, Koreans, and Caucasians. Those who are part-Hawaiian, like Derwin Kwon, whose family—half Korean, half Hawaiian—has lived here for generations, make up less than 10% of the population.

Yet you go over to Dole Park and walk around and see families eating satays and samosas, curried chicken and Spam rolls, and it looks like everyone gets along just fine. American assimilation, Hawaiian-style. Just like our new incoming president.

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Hot melons

There aren’t a lot of dining choices in Lanai City. The best of the lot is probably the Lanai City Grille in the Hotel Lanai which, until 1990, was the only hotel on the island. James D. Dole himself built the inn in 1923, mainly as a place to house Dole executives from the mainland. The rustic furnishings—worn hardwood floors, old ceiling fans, chintz curtains—give it a certain historical charm, if you like that sort of thing.

The hotel restaurant used to be called Henry Clay’s Rottisserie and was run by a guy from New Orleans named Henry Clay Richardson. I ate there a couple of times and the food was good, but it always felt a bit odd to me to be dining on cajun shrimp, eggplant creole, and pecan pie on the Pineapple Island.

photo by David Lansing

photo by David Lansing

In some ways it seems like nothing ever changes on Lanai and in other ways, it seems they change all the time. Mostly, I guess, the change comes from those who visit the island and then decide to move here and see if they can make a go of it. Henry Clay Richardson was one of those people. He took over the Hotel Lanai in 1996, ran it for a decade, then—for whatever reason—sold it off to new owners.

So it goes.

Anyway, another place I like quite a bit is Pele’s Other Garden Deli and Bistro, next to the Pine Isle Market. It’s basically a deli in what used to be the Lanai Visitor Information Center. Its owners, Mark and Barbara Zigmond, moved here from Jersey over a decade ago. When I asked Mark why they moved here, he said, “Just wanted to drop out of the rat race.”

Well, okay, but owning a deli in Lanai City isn’t exactly kickin’ back and taking it easy. They serve lunch from 11 to 3, close for an hour or so in the afternoon, and then transform the little pseudo-New York deli into a casual Jersey Italian restaurant for dinner. Mark cooks, Barbara acts as hostess and waitress when she’s not behind the cash register.

Macduff and I have had lunch there a couple of times and we really enjoyed their good-sized pastrami and swiss (if you order it as the #5, you get a free pickle). We also enjoyed joking around with Barbara who is, as they say, a full-figured gal. The first day we ate there, she was wearing a white t-shirt with the words HOT MELONS sort of wrapping around her….well, melons.

photo by Macduff Everton

photo by Macduff Everton

“You must get some comments about that t-shirt,” Macduff said.

“Oh, yeah,” Barbara said, laughing. “It’s a good conversation starter.”

If you happen to stop in there some time and she’s not wearing the shirt, ask her where the hot melons are. Maybe she’ll show you. 

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Goosing the conch blower

These are tough times, but the next time you feel like whining about your job, I want you to think of Saul Kahiihikolo. Saul’s job at the Manele Bay Resort is to wrap a floral sarong around his otherwise naked body and, just as the sun is setting over Hulopoe Bay, stand out by the resort pool like some sort of ancient Hawaiian warrior who has mysteriously been transported here through some weird cosmic time warp, and run around lighting tiki torches while blowing on a triton shell that is a family heirloom.

photo by Macduff Everton

photo by Macduff Everton

It’s not so much the tiki torches and blowing the conch that is unnerving to Saul as it is the half-looped women, drinking pina coladas at the outside bar, who always rush over to have their pictures taken with him while goosing his ass from behind. That would account for the sometimes flat notes that come out of the conch. 

But Saul is a professional. He offers up little more than an uncomfortable smile when they whisper “What’s underneath the sarong?” while snuggling up against his bare chest.

The minute one of the gals snaps the group photo, Saul is off, jogging to another corner of the pool, carrying his flame high above his head like an Olympic torch runner, anxious, no doubt, to light that last tiki torch and get the hell on out of here.

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Learning to play the ukulele

Here’s my New Year’s resolution: I’m going to learn to play the ukulele and start a band called  #7 Road. I decided to do this last night while Macduff and I were sitting in the Hale Ahe Ahe Lounge listening to our cocktail waitress, Camille, sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” during one of her breaks.

“Look,” I said to Macduff, “if the cocktail waitress can get up on stage in front of a hundred people or so and sing an old Judy Garland song, why shouldn’t we as well?”

Well, said Macduff, probably because neither of us can sing and Camille can. He had a point. Then he slapped my knee and said, “But I can play the conch. What do you play?”

Nothing, I told him. “Well, hell, why don’t you take up the ukulele,” he said. “It’s easier than playing the conch.”

So this morning I went down to a little gift shop in Lanai City and bought a ukulele with pineapples embossed on the top. And if Suzie is around over at the Dis ‘n’ Dat store later today, I’m going to see if she’ll show me how to tune it and pick a chord or two. How hard can it be? It’s only got four strings.

photo by Macduff Everton

photo by Macduff Everton

As for how we decided to name our band #7 Road, well that’s another story. We were driving down one of those roads we weren’t supposed to be driving down to the Garden of the Gods. We were driving, driving, driving and not really seeing anything but a tobacco-colored road and grass as high as an elephant’s eye, as they say in Oklahoma, when all of a sudden there was a turnoff going to only-god-knows where. There was just this one little sign that said #7 Road. And Macduff said, “Let me take your picture next to that road sign.”

Why? I asked him.

“Because,” he said, “it will be perfect for our album cover.”

So there you have it. The album cover for #7 Road. Which we expect to put out just as soon as we can convince Camille to join our band and I learn how to play the ukulele. Stay tuned. 

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Paniolo rancheros and a cocktail

There are two things I really love about the Lodge at Koele. The first is the Hawaiian Paniolo Rancheros they serve for breakfast. It’s such a mish-mash of cultures—just like the island itself. They start with slow-cooked kalua pork (kalua being the traditional Hawaiian cooking method of cooking a whole pig, covered in ti leaves, in an underground pit) which is shredded and mounded over fried rice (Chinese!) and add linguica (Portuguese!) topped with two eggs over-easy (American!) on top of a tortilla, covering the whole thing in a smoky chipotle ranchero sauce (Mexican!). I love traditional huevos rancheros but paniolo rancheros kicks butt.

photo by Macduff Everton

photo by Macduff Everton

The other thing I’ve gotten just a bit addicted to is the bar’s Shipwreck cocktail which is made with Hypnotiq, a pale blue blend of vodka, tropical fruit juices, and Cognac, mixed with pineapple juice. They go down real easy.

Of course, I try not to indulge in the Paniolo Rancheros and a Shipwreck at the same time. But since today is the last day of the year, I indulged a bit at breakfast. And I must say, they were perfect together. This might become my favorite brunch combo this summer. 

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