Spirit of Aloha | Features | September/October 2005

Hawai‘i’s Soul Food
By Saul Rollason

On the art of raw fish, done in the Island way

Getting my young kids to eat fish is like getting them to do the dishes and only marginally less messy. They move it around their plates in the hope that it will eventually disappear like tire tread on a racetrack. My telling them that fish is good for them and will nourish their young, video-addled brains only elicits the pathetic response: “You know, Nemo cried when his mother was eaten by a barracuda.” I once tried to feed them poke and their little faces turned green and scrunched up like seaweed in a cider press.

“Poke” (pronounced “poe-kay”) is a Hawaiian word that means “to cut up into small pieces.” For the uninitiated, it is pretty well any local pūpū prepared with uncooked sea creatures. For many generations, traditional poke meant cubes of ahi (yellowfin tuna), seasoned with salt, seaweed and ‘inamona, a relish made from kukui nuts. Nowadays, however, poke has blossomed into a culinary subset, complete with its own cookbooks, Web sites and, almost inevitably, the occasional gastronomic snob.

Last year, I was invited to be a judge at the annual Aloha Festivals Poke Contest at one of those fancy resorts on the Big Island, which make you feel that paparazzi are lurking behind every manicured bush. Not being much of a raw fish lover, I felt a bit of a fraud, but of course, I went. After all, free food is free food. Growing up in England has hardened my stomach to pretty well anything. If I can swallow vegetables boiled to slime and meat roasted to powdered charcoal, then munching on a recently twitching fish is really no challenge at all.

he layout of the poke concoctions in a large, opulent ballroom was lavish and beautiful. To keep the squeamish under control, there was beer and tequila on hand. I haven’t done morning shots since my liver was young, pink and resilient, so I avoided them, although one or two other judges snuck a glass or two, no doubt reasoning that “free” beats “too early” hands down.

I had to award points for “eye appeal” and “taste.” There should have been another category for “audacity.” Some of the dishes looked like Zsa Zsa Gabor or well-timed miniature explosions. One in particular caught my eye. It was a large squid, cut to look like it had burst, with tens of baby squids gushing out from its belly. Had I been hungover, this would not have sat well on my own stomach. On another table sat a huge, upright lobster’s head, as if the bemused crustacean had been tunneling to freedom and had busted out in the middle of our contest.

Sam Choy’s Lobster Poke

This poke has a very refined flavor. Raw lobster is naturally sweet. The crunchy combination of cucumbers, peppers and ogo, mixed with the sesame oil, chili peppers and ‘inamona, blend into a cool, hot, sweet, spicy taste. It is one good poke. 2 whole fresh raw lobster tails (Maine or Spiny) 2 1/2 Tbsp. rinsed, chopped ogo seaweed 1 tsp.‘inamona (see note*) or macadamia nut oil 1/2 tsp. sesame oil 1 or 2 Hawaiian chili peppers (depending upon how hot you want it) ½ cup diced cucumber ½ cup seeded, diced red bell pepper Hawaiian salt to taste 4 cups assorted salad greens, rinsed and torn Remove lobster from shell and cut into small pieces. Place lobster in a large mixing bowl and add ‘inamona, sesame oil, chili peppers, cucumber, red bell pepper and Hawaiian salt to taste. Mix well. Serve poke on individual plates on top of a bed of fresh salad greens. *Note: ‘Inamona is crushed, roasted kukuki nut, usually with salt added. For a similar taste, 41/2 tsp. crushed, roasted and salted cashew nuts can be substituted. (This recipe appeared in Sam Choy’s Poke, a collection of the best poke recipes from the Sam Choy Poke Festival, published by Mutual Publishing, Honolulu. It is used with permission.

Professionals and non-professionals were competing for $15,000 in prizes, which just goes to show that fishing for compliments can really pay off. A lot of hard work had gone into creating the recipes and presentations, except for one rather feeble dish of ono and macaroni, which stood out like a pinto bean in a diamond tiara. There was a boat of poke, with chopsticks for oars, poke shaped somewhat ironically like the fish it came from and other colorful gastronomic flights of fancy.

I tried to restrict my tasting of each dish to a nibble or two, but the Ahi Wellington in particular, with foie gras and truffles, made me dig in and wish I had worn a suit with rubber pockets. I grew up in England at a time when food was considered to be merely fuel. Here, it was the paint in lustrous artwork. I didn’t know whether to nibble at the dishes or frame them.

The winners were a motley assortment of seasoned chefs and surprised homemakers, their concoctions now the subjects of photo spreads and professional envy. How odd, I thought, to be so lauded for producing something that much of the rest of the Western world wouldn’t touch with an antiseptic fishing pole.

Poke, it seems, has come of age. In no small measure, this is due to the promotional skills of one of Hawai‘i’s most visible chefs, Sam Choy, who started the poke festival trend in 1992. He describes poke as Hawai‘i’s “soul food” and regards it as an essential component of the Islands’ culture that should be exported. I doubt if it will ever find a place on the menus of southern diners, but then you never know. A cuisine that can embrace pig’s feet and chitlins might yet make room for raw octopus on a bed of hominy grits.

If you live in one of the other 49 states and want to cause a stir at your next company picnic, take along a dish of classic poke. It may not get you that promotion you’ve been itching for, but you’ll be the main feature of the water cooler gossip for several days thereafter. Take a couple of pounds of raw tuna (which you will impress your colleagues by calling “ahi”), cut it into cubes, mix in some green onions, sesame oil, chili pepper, chopped macadamia nuts and liberally poured soy sauce (which you will call “shoyu,” thus compounding your cosmopolitan persona), then refrigerate. Your creation will stand out among the potato salads and Buffalo wings like a mermaid in a nursing home. Those hardy souls who tease their palates with it will find sublime texture and delicious flavor and will thank you from the bottom of their Budweisers.

Like me, they will have seen the light. My prejudice against raw fish is a thing of the past. I am a convert who will now happily munch on any oceanic critter that is still saying farewell to its mother. When a plate of pink and quivering marine life is put in front of me, I attack it with clicking chopsticks and a bustling party of taste buds.

Alas, my children still fail to share my enthusiasm. I could disguise their poke under a mattress of McNuggets and they would still balk. I can just see them tentatively lifting up the edges of their processed chicken, squealing in shock as they discover that far from uncovering a new and succulent dish, they are simply finding Nemo.                                                                                                                 

SAUL ROLLASON writes humorous pieces for various Hawai‘i and Mainland publications.

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