Because nothing says "Maui" like canned corned beef hash
Sometimes it’s good to be a tourist. former San Francisco Chronicle Travel Editor John Flinn proves this (albeit unintentionally) with his piece extolling the virtues of local Hawaiian cuisine. Which consists primarily of Spam, plate lunches, and holeless donuts.
My grandfather was forcing his entire family to experience Real Local Culture™ in Hawaii before John Flinn scored his first clip. I remember eating a plate lunch as a child, because that’s what Grandpa wanted us to eat. My poor parents had to quell my sobbing and force me to choke down the sugared spam and week-old premade macaroni salad, even as they had to paste on smiles and shovel their own portions past their gritted teeth.
Yes, they pour sugar syrup sauce onto Spam. It’s…something.
As a (gasp and shudder of horror) tourist on an Hawaiian island, I dine often on the freshest caught opakapaka, ono, mahi mahi, and other fabulous fresh fish cooked in dozens of imaginative ways by hard working chefs catering to discriminating palates from around the world. If I “go local,” I get spam, white rice, hamburger patties, and macaroni salad.
Gee, let me think about this for a minute.
Even overlooking the dubious culinary and nutritional quality of the average plate lunch and the ingredients list on a can of Spam, there’s still a problem with the “go local” notion described in Flinn’s article. I can get Spam, white rice, and fried eggs at home. All of these things are in fact available in just about every supermarket in the continental United States. Local Hawaiians eat at McDonald’s a lot too—that doesn’t mean I’m going to line up like a lemming to buy a Big Mac and call it a culinary adventure.
I am fascinated that Flinn somehow managed to miss poi, the horrid purple paste made from taro and foisted off on hapless tourists at countless hotel luaus. An historic food staple of native Hawaiians, the taste of poi helps to make it clear why instant rice and Egg McMuffins became so popular on the islands.
It’s ironic that Flinn slurped up all that Spam, yet he refused to bite into the Maui sweet onion—the only honest-to-goshness unique local food he mentions. Granted, he is right about the farm stand produce in Hawaii—most of it is grown in small local gardens, picked exactly when ripe, and hand-carried to the market stall. But to be honest, the farm stands of Maui look kind of sad compared to the marvelous every-day farmer’s market in downtown Kona on the Big Island, where I purchased my first white pineapple and fell hopelessly in love.
To me, the point of culinary tours and food-based travel is to get the chance to eat things I can’t find at home. Opakapaka (Hawaiian pink snapper), one of my all-time favorite fish, is not sold in my local Lucky’s. I can only get it when I visit the Hawaiian Islands, and if I have to eat in a resort restaurant to find opakapaka, I’ll do it. With (local tropical fruit) relish. Likewise, if a hotel breakfast buffet features white pineapple, I’m going to get me some of that because white pineapple is not exported to California.
Hawaii has amazing local food. You’ve just got to first swallow your pride and become a tourist to find it.
Photo (c) EffingFoodie on flikr
