Spirit of Aloha | Features | January/February 2008

Discoveries
By: Christine Thomas

The Art of the Pūpū

PHOTO ABOVE: Photo: Darrell Ishii; and Paul Rosenthal PHOTO: Photo: Darrell Ishii and Paul Rosenthal

Why am I going to the drugstore to­morrow morning?” repeated my friend’s 90-year-old grandfather, nodding at the two powder-blue bottles of Bombay Sapphire gin displayed before him. “I’ve gotta get pūpū for my drinks.”

It was Christmas Eve. His daughter and granddaughter had both gifted him with his favorite spirit. He had un­wrapped the bottles while we relaxed on the lānai after dinner.

“Pūpū?” we ask­ed, incredulous. I’d assumed his drugstore trip was for a critical purpose like obtaining a prescription medicine, an electronic device, perhaps, or even a roll of toilet paper. When instead he an­nounced his intention to acquire a bounty of briny appetizers—cuttlefish and cocktail peanuts—I almost spit out the last of my dark berry cabernet.

Still, I could imagine the textures of salt and nuts combining on my tongue with the pinch of juniper, lime and soda—a good way to drink gin, if you don’t already know this—and I laughed at his determination to obtain both the specific pūpū and the additional provisions to complement his beverage. On Christ­mas morning, I considered, he would get out of bed and think not about opening presents or savoring a soft cinnamon pastry, but about The Pūpū. If this doesn’t make clear just how seriously this Hawaiian culinary delectable can be taken, let me do my best to convince you.

In Hawai‘i, the pūpū is not just a traditional appetizer. It is never envisioned as merely a petite nibble eaten before a meal, supposedly to tease and arouse the appetite. In essence, it reflects more imagination and creativity than any en­trée. It might burst forth with an enticing palette of flavors, rich and creamy, such as crispy calamari steak reclining in a lemon buerre blanc and stimulated by a sweet chili sauce; or it might rouse the senses with a head-spinning eruption of wasabi roe and sunflower sprouts atop a tower of cubed sashimi-grade ‘ahi nestled on a pedestal of avocado and furikake-dusted rice.

The quality of pūpū offered at bars, restaurants, catered events and private parties can make or break culinary reputations. Conversely, even if a restaurant’s entrées are dreadful, a quality pūpū selection can keep guests coming back for more. This is why, in Hawai‘i, you never merely order an appetizer, you enter into another world: The Art of the Pūpū.

Sitting on the lānai of Buzz’s Steak House in Lanikai in the late afternoon, with canal water reflecting firelight from the setting sun and matching in gleam and intensity the thin slices of pink sashimi set before me, I realize I am no different than Grandpa in my reverence for my favorite pūpū. Next to me an icy ale is perched, ready to complement the smooth surface of the fish—a light local beer (preferably Kona Golden Ale) guaranteed not to overpower the ‘ahi or com­pete with its wasabi and shoyu bath. I must drink beer with sashimi. I must also drink beer with poke, Ha­wai‘i’s way of eating seasoned bites of raw fish in many styles and flavors. The two must always be twain. And like Grandpa’s preference for cuttlefish and peanuts, pūpū isn’t just a starter soon to be forgotten.

Ordering and eating it is an event!

In Hawai‘i, every restaurant and private party now boasts a diverse selection of pūpū—raw or singed sashimi, poke, sushi, calamari and shrimp. All have certain delectable standards, but none are identical, and the tendency is to vary the dishes from island to island. Local palates and the Islands’ taste for fresh seafood often determine the mix, but this has only inspired local cuisine to a form of artistry, re-imagining regional comfort food, adding visual delight and unusual taste combinations. The trick is to find the place that prepares its pūpū in a manner that enhances your desire, or continually reinvents and fans the fire of your culinary love.

Many premier Island chefs specialize in pūpū. They apply as much vision to the pūpū’s appearance and taste as to their entrées. During a recent visit to the new Roy’s in Waikīkī, I sampled a sticky kalbi shrimp, moist but firm, surging with citrus from the soft lemon risotto upon which it was elegantly balanced. In this instance, Roy and his corporate executive chef, Jacqueline Lau, took the local favorite kalbi ribs, elevated them to a gourmet level and produced a mini entrée in and of itself.

Pūpū by the celebrated chef Alan Wong have long been rave worthy. When I dined at Alan Wong’s on King Street a few months ago, I sampled the grand creation called “Da Bag.” This appears as a steaming foil purse that, when opened, lets forth a pungent steam of clams, kālua pig with a hint of imu (outdoor oven) taste, shiitake mushroom and brilliant spinach, a pūpū art form that makes diners’ heads turn and even my vegetarian mouth water. Ac­com­pany it with a side of rice and you have an irresistible, sense-seducing meal, main courses be damned.

With a clever wave of options coursing through distinctive pūpū menus, Hawai‘i chefs usually offer their customers an opportunity to experience the depth of an entrée without the deep plunge of commitment. Instead of that one big thing, you indulge in a sweeping array of aromatic and extravagant concoctions: think the entrée-turned-pūpū ‘ahi katsu roll, a combination of melt-in-your-mouth-quality fish, a deep and crunchy exterior, and a selection of sauces from spicy or fruity to savory or sweet. Why choose one large plate, with a simple combination of starch, protein and vegetable, when you can order a mass of pūpū and celebrate?

Lucy’s in Kailua is a place I often visit, but where I almost never order an entrée. Instead of the generous portions of mashed, garlicked Okinawan and russet potato that accompany most main courses, I opt for the fish taco pūpū: three folds of tender, fresh local catch with a virtual garden of toppings, including papaya salsa and buttery local avocado, all punctuated by heavenly hoisin.

Then I move to the picket salad: each crisp romaine leaf served individually and tickled with crumbled blue cheese, tart walnuts and mouth-puckering red wine vinaigrette. I always leave full and satisfied, my mouth sparkling with a kaleidoscope of flavors.

At home, you can be your own pūpū boss in grand style. Immerse yourself in small bites. Remember, Grandpa preferred a simple pūpū with his gin (I would have opted for a sushi platter or firm edamame pods laced with honey and Hawaiian salt). And he should know. As a young man, he would walk the halls and lānai of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel for 10-cent tips, with a fiery hibachi hanging from a strap around his neck, serving the hotel’s famed first pūpū—pigs in blankets.

Back at Buzz’s, eating the last morsel of my sashimi, I drink a toast to my friend’s grandfather, for whom pūpū live on.

CHRISTINE THOMAS reviews books for the San Francisco Chronicle, The Honolulu Advertiser and other publications. Visit her at literarylotus.com.