We are so fortunate to have bunches of fresh, fragrant basil at farmers’ markets throughout the year. And, at $3.00 a bunch, that’s an amazing bargain. When we moved to Kaua’i in November, 2021, we had a hard time believing that basil grown at any time but the summer would pack so much flavor. But when I yelled “Wow!” after nibbling on a leaf. That’s all the proof we needed.

I can buy two basil varieties on Kaua’i—Large-leafed sweet Italian, and anise-flavored Thai. Thai basil’s sturdy leaves make it ideal for stir-fries.

Making Pesto

I make pesto with Italian basil. And I use a food processor. The traditional tools for pesto are mortar and pestle, and the word pesto means pounded. I made pesto that way when we lived in Naples, Italy. Actually I didn’t have a mortar, so I pounded the basil in a sturdy bowl with a wooden spoon. I tore the leaves first to make my job a bit easier, but I have to say, making pesto by hand takes a long time.

Besides basil, you’ll need an excellent olive oil, pine nuts, freshly grated Parmesan and Romano cheeses, garlic, salt, and some butter.

Why butter? Julia della Croce and Marcella Hazan both say it’s for texture and depth of flavor. And I agree. Pesto with butter is super creamy.

When it comes to pine nuts, I always buy the Italian pinoli. Any good pine nut will be fine in pesto, but the pinoli are the only pine nut I had in Italy and so I continue using it in pesto and in other Italian recipes. Pine nuts should be purchased air tight and stored in the freezer. They are perishable. Once a package is opened, store leftovers, tightly wrapped, in the freezer. And use them within a few months.

I make pesto with a regular size Cuisinart food processor that I bought in a thrift store for $5.00. This machine had been made in Japan, and I’ve since learned that the best quality Cuisinarts were all made in Japan. Lucky me.

My Pesto Recipe

Here are the ingredients for enough pesto for six main course servings. What you don’t use will keep refrigerated for at least a week.

2 peeled garlic cloves

2 ounces basil leaves (for consistency it’s best to weigh the basil)

1/2 teaspoon table salt

2 tablespoons pine nuts

1/2 cup excellent extra-virgin olive oil

1/2 cup (50 grams) freshly grated Parmesan cheese

2 tablespoons (12 grams) freshly grated Pecorino Romano

5 tablespoons butter (salted or not), at room temperature

1. With the metal blade in place, start the motor and drop the garlic cloves through the feed tube. Process a few seconds until you no longer hear chopping sounds. Turn off the machine.

2. Add the basil leaves, salt and pine nuts. Pulse a few times to begin chopping the basil and pine nuts. Pour in the olive oil and process 10 seconds. The basil should be finely ground but still have texture. It should not be a puree.

3. Add the soft butter, and both cheeses. Pulse rapidly about 5 times to incorporate the ingredients. Taste carefully and taste for salt. Add a bit more if you feel the pesto needs it.

4. And that’s it. The pesto is ready to use. It keeps well in the fridge for at least a week. Freeze it for longer storage.

I always cook enough pasta for 2 servings. I’ll spoon one-third of the pesto into a heatproof cup and set it aside. For the pasta, I usually choose spaghetti. I’ll weigh 7.5 ounces for Dorothy and me. I cook the pasta in a 3-quart stainless steel pan that measures 9 inches in diameter with 3-inch sides. This is the pan I packed in our luggage. I half-fill it with water and bring the water to a rolling boil over high heat. I salt the water (about 1 tablespoon kosher salt) and add the pasta. In a few seconds when the pasta becomes flexible, I use tongs to immerse the pasta completely in the water. Note: A 4-quart saucepan half-filled with water is a great way to cook pasta for 2 to 4 servings. Use a 6-quart pot half-filled with water to cook pasta (scant 1 1/2 pounds) for 6 servings.

Adjust the heat so that the pasta stays at the boil and cook until it’s al dente. The spaghetti I use cooks in 9 minutes. While the pasta cooks—give it a stir occasionally— stir about a tablespoon of the boiling water into the pesto. This will be the sauce for the pasta.

When the pasta is cooked, drain it well. Return it to the cooking pot and add the pesto. Stir quickly and vigorously to coat the spaghetti evenly with the pesto. Divide into two warmed serving bowls, sprinkle some freshly grated Parmesan or Pecorino Romano on top and serve right away. A green salad is always welcome with pesto.

Have fun!

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It’s been many years since I baked a fresh pineapple pie. I published my recipe in “Baking in America” (Houghton Mifflin 2002), and now that I live in Hawaii, local pineapple is always available. Except when it’s not.

For the past couple of months, I couldn’t find a Hawaii yellow pineapple anywhere on Kaua’i. Our favorite breakfast fruit is a papaya half stuffed with finely cut pineapple. Without pineapple, we got by with a squeeze of Calamansi lime. Then, just last week, I found pineapples at Costco. And they’re local! The pineapple drought is over. But what caused it?

Pineapples take 1 1/2-years to develop into ripe fruit. They are very sensitive to temperature. Last winter, a temporary dip in temperature (just a couple of degrees below 60˚F) caused developing pineapples to mature sooner than they would under normal conditions. They shifted to a vegetative condition. The result: a glut of slightly smaller ripe pineapples this summer and a highly reduced crop by early fall. Small businesses claimed whatever fruit there was, and we just did without.

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Shopping at a farmers market is a truly social experience. A seller may have just one food for sale, like the mango vendor, or several foods, as you’ll see in the following photos.

I often have questions about some food that pulls me to examine it further, and the seller is always happy to suggest ways to cook it. In a very short time we’ve formed a bond, and after a few more visits, she may tuck a little something extra into my bag.

In the four years we’ve been living in Kaua’i, Dorothy and I have gone to countless farmers markets, and the one standout, the place we go to every week, is the Puhi Market on Saturday mornings near the Community College in Lihue.

The many sellers offer a huge variety of foods and food products. In addition to the local fruits and vegetables, you’ll find Thai hot food, brick oven pizza, taro products, whole coconuts cracked for their delicious coconut water, wonderful baked goods, including French baguettes, croissants, and sourdough loaves, macadamia honey, toasted nuts, and more to satisfy the appetite.

For this newsletter, I want to focus on the Puhi Market vegetables. I took all these photos during one Saturday morning near the end of September.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this fruit and vegetable travelogue. You may have asked, “Where are the tomatoes?” I’ll talk about that in a future newsletter.

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The Okinawan sweet potato is one of the most popular foods in Hawaii. And no wonder. In addition to being a nutritional powerhouse—it’s loaded with antioxdants, vitamins, minerals, and fiber—it’s just plain delicious in both savory dishes and in desserts.

Your market’s produce department is likely not stocking Okinawan purple sweet potatoes. That’s a pity. If it is, you’re in luck. If not, just ask the manager to please order these potatoes. Tell the person in charge how healthy the potatoes are and they’re so delicious; and also say they store extremely well at room temperature and that you’ll guarantee the potatoes sell because you’ll get your friends to buy them.

Ive found these potatoes in southern California. And they’re likely available in many states and neighborhoods where Japanese, Filipinos, and/or Hawaiians live.

What I Learned About This Potato

This purple sweet potato has a dry texture, far dryer than the orange sweet potato, so it boils up without becoming waterlogged. It makes wonderful latkes and gnocchi. You can cook several pounds of unpeeled tubers at a time—it takes 20 to 25 minutes at a rolling boil—and after draining and cooling them, store them in the fridge and use them all week long.

In researching recipes for sweet potato pie, the one rule that I kept seeing said to bake the potatoes instead of boiling them. This may be true for the regular sweet potato, but not the Okinawan. The lack of moisture in these purple sweet potatoes makes them perfect candidates for boiling.

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The Recipe

Preliminaries

You’ll need an unbaked 9-inch pie crust. This can be any recipe of your choice. Or check out the recipe here, Speedy Food Processor Pastry.

The crust may be made a day or two ahead and refrigerated.

Ingredients

2 cups riced or mashed purple sweet potato (490 grams)

½ cup sugar

¾ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

¼ teaspoon cinnamon

¼ teaspoon allspice

1/4 teaspoon table salt

1 tablespoon peeled grated fresh ginger

2 large eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla

4 tablespoons butter, melted

1 cup coconut cream or full fat coconut milk (shake cans well before measuring)

Topping

1 cup heavy cream or whipping cream, whipped with 1 tablespoon confectioners’ sugar and 1 teaspoon vanilla until stiff.

Procedure

1. Adjust an oven rack to the center position and preheat the oven to 325˚F.

2. Have the unbaked pie shell at room temperature.

3. In a stand mixer, with the flat beater in place, beat the purple sweet potatoes,

   sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice, salt, and grated ginger on low speed until well-mixed, about 2 minutes. Scrape the bowl and beater and beat on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Scrape the bowl and beater.

4. On low speed beat in the eggs one at a time until thoroughly incorporated, about 1 to 2 minutes.

5. Add the vanilla, butter, coconut cream or full-fat coconut milk and mix on low speed a minute or two until the filling is smooth.

6. Pour into the pie shell and set the pie onto a rimmed baking sheet.

   Bake for 1 hour and 10 minutes until the filling is set and a toothpick comes out clean or with just a few crumbs clinging to it.

7. Cool the pie completely on a wire rack. You can serve the pie now or refrigerate it and serve it cold. Dollop each serving with lightly sweetened whipped cream.

   

   

   

   Happy Baking!

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My relationship and love for Key Lime Pie began in the 1980s when I gave Cuisinart food processor cooking classes all over Florida—two two-hour classes a day. After the evening class, dinner time. At just about every restaurant I went to, Key Lime Pie appeared on the menu. And I always ordered it. All were delicious, and nary a crumb survived. Each restaurant kitchen made its pie in pretty much the standard way: stir together egg yolks with sweetened condensed milk, and finish by mixing in fresh lime juice. The acidic lime curdles the milk proteins and sets the filling. Key limes aren’t any limier than the ubiquitous Persian lime, but the name Key Lime somehow just sounds romantic. Oh, and all the pies I sampled sported Graham cracker crusts.

All or almost all key lime pies these days are made with Persian limes. Nevertheless the name “key” is still used because it is an unprotected designation.

Many different citrus species thrive in Hawaii, including lemons and the common Persian limes. Another lime that we go nuts over is the Calamansi lime. Native to the Philippines, these limes thrive in many tropical and subtropical climates. They grow on trees and are seasonal. The fruit is orange or green or somewhere in between, but the juice is always bright orange. Calamansi is a seedy fruit, but there’s more pulp to seed, so they’re juicy

At a farmers’ market in Lihue a couple of years ago, one seller had nothing but calamansi limes to sell. Visitors didn’t know what they were, but when asked, the seller said, “key limes,” and in short order all were sold.

I use calamansi limes in my key lime pies. If you live where these limes don’t, do not despair. My way of making the filling assures it will feel super creamy regardless of the lime; but the calamansi lime adds a certain depth of tang the key lime or Persian lime lacks.

I do not use a graham cracker crust for this pie, and I recommend you don’t either. A graham cracker crust is convenient, but its taste and texture just get in the way of the heavenly filling. A baked pie crust—homemade or store-bought--is the way to go. And, historically, key lime pie originated long before the Graham cracker crust was born. So a true pie crust is the original base for this pie.

Here’s the filling recipe:

4 large egg yolks

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 can (14 ounces) sweetened condensed milk

½ cup fresh lime juice (calamansi or Persian limes)

1.Put the egg yolks into a medium size bowl and beat with a hand-held electric mixer on medium- to medium-high speed until the yolks are thickened and paler in color. This step gives the filling its super smooth texture. (Note: A few years ago I developed a key lime pie recipe for a food magazine and found that actually beating the egg yolks for a few minutes gave the pie a welcome lightness).

2. Gradually mix in the sweetened condensed milk on low speed or stir it in with a spoon. A tablespoon or two at a time, stir in the lime juice. Stir the filling a few times with a rubber spatula to make sure it’s completely smooth. And that’s it! At this point many recipes say to pour the filling into the crust and refrigerate. I like to bake the filling a short time to ensure a lovely smooth texture.

To Bake:

Preheat the oven to 350˚F with a rack in the middle position. Put your baked pie crust onto a baking sheet and scrape the filling into the crust.

Put the pie in the oven and set a square of aluminum foil over the top of the pie. The foil will rest on the edges of the crust above the filling.

Bake 15 minutes. Remove the foil and the pie from the oven and set the pie on a cooling rack. When completely cool, refrigerate the pie, uncovered, for 5 to 6 hours or overnight.

Whipped Cream Topping

1 ½ cups heavy cream or whipping cream

2 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

Make sure your beaters and bowl are cold. Put them in the fridge and hour or so beforehand. Pour the cream into the chilled bowl and add the sugar and vanilla. Beat until the cream holds a firm shape. Spread over the filling and smooth the top. Cut into servings with a sharp knife.

If you like, place a few raspberries and/or blueberries alongside the wedge of pie.

The pie holds up really well in the fridge for up to four days.

Makes 8 servings.

Have fun with this pie!

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The world of snacks is immense. I gasped when I spotted these shelves, stocked with snacks of all sorts from China, Japan, the Philipines, and other countries in Asia. Which to try? A veritable puzzlement staring me in the face.

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My love of passion fruit began way back in the late 1980s when Dorothy and I spent a few days on Kauai. In Hawaii, passion fruit is called lilikoi. I cannot imagine a more beautiful sounding name. I do not remember what I was eating that first time, but lilikoi grabbed me by the taste buds and I yelled “Wow!” Was it a dessert, a tea sipped at lunch, or an ice cream? All of that doesn’t matter now because lilikoi’s alluring floral aroma and unidentifiable tanginess imprinted themselves on me for life. Passion fruit indeed!

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Through the forty-plus years since meeting lilikoi for the first time--before Dorothy and I began living on Kauai—I kept in contact with lilikoi by ordering bottles of passion fruit juice from Aunty Lilikoi. I’ll tell you more about that later.

Lilikoi grows on a vine. See the picture above. The fruit casing is hard, but it’s easy to cut open with a knife.

Inside you’ll find the seeded fruit encased in an orangy pulp. Both seeds and pulp are edible, but in desserts the seeds are removed and only the juice is used.

Removing the seeds is easy. Scrape the seeded pulp into a blender and pulse about ten times with very quick on/off bursts of power to liquefy the pulp. The seeds pretty much stay intact. Straining the contents of the blender gives you pure lilikoi juice that’s ready to use. And that’s it.

The juice keeps well in the refrigerator for up to a week, but it’s best to freeze it for longer storage. In the freezer lilikoi juice will keep its potency for up to one year.

I’ve made cheesecake, chiffon pies, tarts, and lilikoi curd. Why use lemon juice when lilikoi is at hand? The curd can also be frozen.

The dessert I make most often with lilikoi is Lilikoi Dessert Bars, my riff on the classic lemon bars.

Here are a few photos to illustrate the steps.

Mail order sources for passion fruit juice are at the end of this recipe. Happy Baking!

LILIKOI DESSERT BARS

Makes 24 Bars

These treats are best served cold. Store the pan of baked bars in the refrigerator and cut and dust them with powdered sugar just before serving. If you want to make lemon or lime bars, substitute either for the lilikoi juice.

Ingredients

Brown Sugar Shortbread Crust

• 2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour; spoon flour into dry measuring cups to overflowing and level off with a straight-edge ( 8 1/2 ounces by weight; 240 grams)

• 1/2 cup firmly packed dark brown or muscovado sugar (100 gram)

• 1/4 teaspoon table salt

• 1 1/2 sticks ( 6 ounces; 170 grams) cold unsalted butter sliced into 12 to 15 pieces

Passion Fruit (Lilikoi) Filling

• 4 large eggs, cold is okay

• 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar

• 3/4 cup fresh passion fruit juice

• 1/3 cup all-purpose flour

• Powdered sugar for dusting

Instructions

1. Adjust an oven rack to the center position and preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Have ready a 13 x 9 x 2-inch ungreased baking pan.

Crust

1. For the shortbread crust, in a large bowl, whisk together the flour, brown sugar, and salt and add the butter slices.

2. Work the butter into the dry ingredients with your fingertips or a pastry blender until the butter is broken up into medium-size pieces, about ¼-inch. If your kitchen is warm and you find the butter getting too soft while you work it, put the bowl into the freezer for 10 to 15 minutes.

3. Pour the crumbs into the ungreased baking pan.

4. Press firmly and evenly on the bottom to make a compact layer. You’ll see pieces of butter here and there.

5. Bake for 20 minutes, until the crust is golden brown.

Filling

1. While the crust bakes, whisk the eggs in a medium bowl to combine well. Add the granulated sugar and whisk in well. Add the lilikoi juice and flour and whisk until smooth. Try not to create large bubbles. Pour over the hot crust and return the pan to the oven. Reduce the oven temperature to 300 degrees and continue baking until the filling is set, about 30 minutes.

2. Any odd spots here and there are from large bubbles that popped during baking. Not to worry, they’ll be hidden under a dusting of powdered sugar if you choose to do so.

3. Cool the pan completely on a wire rack, then refrigerate for an hour or two until cold. If you want to serve the next day, cover the pan tightly with foil and refrigerate.

4. Loosen the sides of the dessert with the tip of a sharp knife, going around the pan more than once if necessary. The top of the filling is sticky. To make cutting easy, I rub soft butter on the blade of my knife. It cuts through the bars without tearing.

5. Remove bars from the pan, dust with powdered sugar, if you want, and serve.

How to order passion fruit juice:

1. www.auntylilikoi.com.

This site offers many excellent products containing passion fruit juice in addition to bottles of unsweetened passion fruit juice. Made from concentrate, I have had excellent results with it. A 10-ounce bottle costs $12.00 plus shipping. If you are on Kaua’i visit their store in Waimea. The address is on their website. For telephone orders call 1-808-338-1296.

2. Amazon.com. You will find many sources. Always make sure you are buying passion fruit juice with no added sugar. My friend, Cindy Klotz, is delighted with her purchase of Mazzoni Passion Fruit Puree, 100% Pure Passion Fruit, No Sugar added. It’s a 2.2 pound bag. The price is $25.50, and if you have amazon prime, there is free delivery. Cindy divided the puree into 3/4 cup portions and froze them.

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During my hiatus, I fell in love with Okinawan purple sweet potatoes. They’re on the small side, about 4 to 5 ounces each, with brownish skins. But when peeled they reveal themselves as gorgeously purple.

I boil them for my first dish of purple mashed potatoes. And let me tell you, they are utterly delicious and creamy smooth without adding any cream. When raw, these potatoes have a very firm texture making them easy to shred by hand. The shreds feel damp but not at all wet.

Bingo! That means no squeezing to rid the shredded potatoes of moisture. To turn those shreds into pancakes you just stir in seasonings, an egg, and some dried bread crumbs, matzoh meal, or flour. Now comes the fun part: frying up a batch of crispy latkes.

Potato pancakes (Latkes) are a traditional treat during Hannukah. I think that one reason latkes are seasonal is because of the manual labor involved in getting the water out of the potatoes. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, and more squeeze.

But purple sweet potatoes can make latkes a frequent potato side dish.

Shred the peeled potatoes on the largest holes of a box grater.

The Recipe

1.For this recipe, which makes 8 to 9 potato pancakes, two 4-ounce peeled potatoes will do it. Shred them. Press firmly as you move the potato up and down.

2.When you fluff the potato shreds they won’t feel at all wet. Put them into a medium bowl and add the remaining ingredients—1 large egg, 1 teaspoon Kosher Crystal Diamond salt (or ½ teaspoon fine sea salt), ½ teaspoon ground black pepper, 2 tablespoons finely chopped peeled fresh ginger, and ¼ cup panko crumbs, matzah meal, or all-purpose flour. Mix well and you’re ready to start cooking.

3.Film the bottom of a 12-inch skillet, preferably non-stick, with 1/3 to ½ cup oil. I use coconut oil. But olive oil, peanut oil, avocado oil, grapeseed oil, or other oil you like, is fine.

4.Turn on the heat to medium-high and when the oil begins to shimmer, it’s ready to receive the pancakes. Give the sweet potato mixture a big stir and spoon a heaping soupspoonful into the oil. The oil should sizzle. Press down gently to level the pancake. Continue spooning the mixture into the pan—leave a bit of space between cakes--pressing down on each one. Work quickly so the pancakes cook for about the same time.

5.Cook 2 to 3 minutes until the pancake bottoms are nicely browned and crisp. Flip them and continue cooking another 3 minutes or so until they’re well-browned and very crisp.

6.Drain the pancakes on a kitchen towel or paper towels and transfer them to a warmed platter. Serve right away.

I serve the pancakes as is, but you can top them with a little sour cream, a drizzle of honey, applesauce, smoked salmon or whatever else you may like.

Feel free to change the seasonings in the pancake mix according to your tastes.

This recipe may be doubled.

7.Have fun!

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We have the Portuguese to thank for having brought their way of making doughnuts to Hawaii more than one hundred years ago. These fried pastries, malasadas, without a central hole, have become their own Hawaiian thing.

I’ve found many recipes on the internet. Some say to use bread flour instead of all-purpose flour. The liquid may be milk, half and half, cream or evaporated milk. Eggs and butter seem to be constant ingredients. Sugar is used sparingly in the dough but liberally to coat the fried malasadas. One thing I add is vanilla because I like it in sweet doughs.

The Kauai Bakery in Lihue makes a huge variety of malasadas.

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Here’s a recipe for the way I make plain malasadas. I’ve included a series of photos after the recipe to illustrate the key steps.

Hawaiian Malasadas

Makes 16

This dough has a wonderfully smooth and stretchy feel. It’s very easy to make in a stand mixer or by hand, and the malasadas turn out light and tender. I use instant yeast because it mixes into the dough without a proofing step where you dissolve the yeast in liquid first and wait a few minutes to see if it bubbles. Beware: Instant yeast is not the same as rapid rise. The brand I use is SAF. I keep a bag of it in the freezer. I also let the dough rise in the fridge overnight to develop its flavor.

¾ cup heavy cream

4 tablespoons butter, unsalted or salted

3 ½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour (425 grams or 15 ounces)

1/3 cup granulated sugar

1 teaspoon table salt

2 ¼ teaspoons instant yeast (7 grams)

3 large eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 to 2 quarts vegetable oil for frying (grapeseed. avocado, coconut)

Granulated sugar for coating malasadas

1.   In a small saucepan heat the cream and butter over medium low heat until the butter melts. Take the pan off the heat and set aside until the liquid feels warm, not hot. Test with a fingertip.

2.   In the large bowl of an electric mixer whisk together thoroughly the flour, sugar, and salt. Whisk in the yeast. Attach the flat beater and add the warm cream and butter. Mix on medium low speed until the contents of the bowl become crumbly, about 3 minutes.

3.   Switch to the dough hook and add the eggs and vanilla. Mix on medium low speed until the dough gathers into a mass, 1 to 2 minutes. Then raise the speed to medium and knead for 3 to 5 minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic. Scrape down the side of the bowl and knead for 1 minute more on medium speed. Pick up the dough and work it with your hands to make sure it feels smooth and stretchy. Shape it into a ball and return it to the mixer bowl. The dough will weigh 2 pounds.

4.   Cover tightly and refrigerate overnight. The dough will double in volume in the cold.

5.   The next day, set the dough on your work surface and pat it out to a 6- to 7-inch square. Dust with a little flour if it feels sticky. Line a large baking sheet with cooking parchment and cut the dough into 16 even pieces (each should weigh around 2 ounces). Roll each between your palms into a ball and set the balls well apart on the parchment. Flatten the balls until they’re about 3 inches across and ½-inch thick. Cover loosely with a kitchen towel and let them rise about 45 minutes until puffy and light. Rising time will depend on your kitchen temperature. Have paper towels spread out on a flat surface to drain the malasadas.

6.   To fry the malasadas, heat the oil in a heavy 10-inch skillet over medium heat to 360-365 degrees F. Meanwhile, cut the parchment the malasadas are on so that each malasada is resting on its own piece of parchment.

7.   One at a time, pick up a malasada on its parchment and slip it into the oil on its paper. Remove the paper from the oil with tongs. Cook no more than 4 to 6 malasadas at a time. Fry for 2 minutes per side. With a slotted spoon, transfer the malasadas onto the paper towels.

8.   Return the temperature of the oil to 360-365 degrees and continue frying the malasadas.

9.   When all the malasadas are cooked, put about ½ cup granulated sugar into a paper bag and add 5 or 6 malasadas. Close the bag and shake vigorously to coat the malasadas. Transfer the malasadas to a serving platter. Repeat until all malasadas are coated. Then dig in!

Malasadas are best when eaten warm. Leftovers can be reheated briefly, 20 to 30 seconds, in a microwave.

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I first tasted this classic Thai salad on Hawaii Island many years ago and the memory of it has been with me for as long as I can remember. Shredded green papaya—crunchy and bland of flavor—when dressed with lime juice, palm sugar, fish sauce, garlic, peanuts and chopped dried shrimp—jostles my taste buds into Wow! Mode. Some chili, cherry tomatoes, and blanched long beans add welcome color and a contrast of textures.

There are two main types of papaya—Hawaiian and Mexican. The Hawaiian papayas are the ones eaten when orange and ripe. Mexican green papayas—also called Maradol papayas—are much larger than the Hawaiian papaya we eat at breakfast. Do not use a green Hawaiian papaya for this dish. Their flesh is much too soft. Only green Mexican papayas will do.

You’ll find many recipes for green papaya salad in books and online. I’ve adapted one from the serious eats website, Som Tam Thai, by Derek Lucci. The traditional way of making the salad involves lots of pounding in a wooden or clay mortar and pestle. Because I am without such an apparatus, I perform much of that work in a mini-chopper. I also use a gadget called a Kiwi Shredder to prepare the green papaya. You can buy one online for not much money and you’ll be happy to have it.

If you don’t live where green papaya grows, you can substitute white cabbage. Cut this firm vegetable into fine shreds with a chef’s knife and follow the rest of the recipe.

I have also seen online sources for Mexican green papaya, but the cost of overnight shipping may be quite high.

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I begin by peeling the green papaya and shredding it with a Kiwi shredder.

Next step: chop the dried shrimp.

Cut a few long beans into 2-inch sections and parboil them for 2 minutes in lightly salted water. Drain and set aside. Cut cherry tomatoes in half to make about 1 cup.

Time to assemble the salad.

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If you want to make this salad hours ahead and refrigerate it, do not add the tomatoes until serving time.

Here are the ingredient amounts for 2 to 4 servings:

7 ounces shredded green papaya

8 dried shrimp

3 garlic cloves

4 tablespoons roasted peanuts, half for chopping and the remainder for serving

1 or 2 fresh thai chiles, stems removed (if you want some heat)

2 tablespoons palm sugar (40 grams)—break it up with your fingers

3 tablespoons lime juice

2 tablespoons fish sauce

4 ounces cherry tomatoes, halves

4 ounces long beans, ends trimmed, cut beans into 2-inch lengths

And that’s about it. Have fun!

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What would you like for lunch today? That’s a daily question Dorothy and I ask each other. Soup and sandwich? Toasted sourdough with cheese and cold cuts, or just peanut butter? Or how about noodles? Yep!

I love noodles above all other foods. I buy bags of fresh, locally made noodles at Costco in Lihue. So I’ll make something with them for lunch!

I raid my stash of Asian seasonings and ponder.

I stir some sesame paste, hoisin sauce, ponzu, and soy sauce together in a mixing bowl and drizzle in a bit of roasted sesame oil. I taste. This mix needs acid. Some sherry vinegar or rice vinegar. I grab the sherry vinegar because it’s on my countertop and stir in a generous dollop and taste again. Fine, but it’ll be better with some fresh garlic and ginger. So I put my chef’s knife to work on 2 garlic cloves and about 1 inch of young ginger and in they go. That’s my sauce.

I bring a quart or so of water to the boil and add the 9.5 ounce bag of fresh saimin noodles. After the water returns to the boil, I cook the noodles for 3 minutes.

Into a strainer the noodles go followed by a quick rinse under cool running tap water. After a few vigorous shakes I weigh the noodles: they’re just a tad over 16 ounces.

I add the noodles to the sauce along with two sliced scallions and about ¼ cup of chopped parsley or basil and toss everything together with a couple of forks.

I taste again and shake in some salt. Another quick toss, a final taste, and into two bowls go the noodles. Now that there’s food in them the bowls are happy.

I add a few cut cherry tomatoes and some cooked chicken from last night’s dinner and lunch is served.

You can use any pasta, fresh or dried, that you like. In Hawaii, fresh pasta is sold in all markets. The amount of sauce I make dresses 1 pound of cooked pasta. You could multiply this recipe any number of times depending on how many servings you decide to make. Here are amounts for two servings.

The Sauce

For 1 pound of cooked pasta here’s what you’ll need:

2 tablespoons Chinese sesame paste (NOTE: Chinese sesame paste is made with toasted sesame seeds. Tahini is not toasted)

2 tablespoons Ponzu (citrus flavored soy seasoning; substitute with soy sauce)

1 tablespoon soy sauce

1 tablespoon hoisin sauce

1 tablespoon sesame oil

1 tablespoon sherry vinegar or rice vinegar

2 tablespoons finely chopped ginger

1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic

2 scallions, ends trimmed, thinly sliced

½ teaspoon salt, more if needed

For added heat, you could stir in a teaspoon or so of chili paste or gochujang or sriracha sauce.

As I write this, the weather turned blustery and rainy and I might just make this dish again for lunch. Hmmm.  

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This is the pie I just put together. But what is haupia? And how do you pronounce it?

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Taste Memory

It happens when you’ve taken a bite of something and its taste instantly floods your mind with images and remembrances of past experience. I’ve read about it many times, and over the years I’ve experienced mild forms of it. But last week I was hit with a double memory whammy—sight and taste!

Sight Memory

When I roam all over the Saturday farmers market, there’s one seller that I visit every week because I’m usually able to find a fruit or vegetable there not offered by any other seller. Tucked into a far corner of the vast market, I stopped in my tracks when I spotted a bag of orange-colored fuzzy oval fruits and instantly exclaimed “Beboes!”

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Coconut palms grow all over the place in Hawaii. And high up, as you see in this photo, the palm’s fruit, coconuts, bunch together.

Coconuts are nutritional powerhouses. Their white flesh is rich in oils, protein, vitamins, and minerals. And in green, immature coconuts, the center is filled with coconut water.

It’s this delicious water that people go crazy over. At farmers markets, especially, shoppers form lines to watch machete-wielding hackers slash away at the fruit to prepare it for sipping.

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Green, immature fruit, is ideal for sipping coconut water because it’s in abundant supply. As the coconut matures, the liquid level decreases as the fleshy coconut wall thickens.

Coconut water is not coconut milk. For coconut milk, you purée the white coconut flesh with some water to get a creamy liquid to cook with or to create tropical drinks such as piña colada.

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Here are a few sipping-ready coconuts. The one at the front has a couple of straws visible. You can also see the thin layer of white flesh around the opening.

On a hot day, the cool coconut water really satisfies!

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You’ll find this tropical treat—finely shaved, not crushed ice, flavored with fruity syrups—throughout Hawaii.

We began coming to these islands over 30 years ago and, until just a few days ago, resisted tasting shave ice. Who wants to eat sugar and ice when we can eat ice cream?

On any given day we’ll see hordes of people, vacationers and locals alike, eagerly scarfing down this sweet confection. But what is all the fuss about?

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We finally decided to find out for ourselves when we were gifted with a $10 charge card as part of our welcome package at a staycation.

Our destination: Uncle’s Shave Ice in Lihue, Kauai. We were the first customers that day and our server could not have been more patient with us as she answered all of our questions and suggested all sorts of possible flavors and add-ons.

After studying all the bewildering possibilities, in the end I ordered what you see me smiling about at the top of this newsletter. Three syrups drizzled atop a cone of packed shave ice.

I take my first spoonful and my taste buds are transported to somewhere they’ve never been. Because the ice is shaved and not crushed, it’s as smooth as silk and just captivating. How could anything so cold and smooth and sweet exist? Go slow, I tell myself. Take the time to savor. Dorothy agrees, and our spoons vie playfully for our next bites.   

How is the ice shaved? We watch our server hoist a solid block of ice into the shaving machine, lock the ice in place, and turn the machine on. Round and round goes the ice and out flows the white mountain of shavings.

We can thank the Japanese workers who came to Hawaii to labor in the sugar cane and pineapple fields for this gift of flavored snow. To cool off, they used tools to shave off ice flakes that they flavored with sugar or fruit juice. From that humble beginning grew an industry that thrives spectacularly today.

The next time you come to Hawaii, you must try some shave ice!

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Spam, the world-famous seasoned pork meat in a can, celebrates its 85th anniversary this year. And sales are booming, with tens of millions cans hopping off supermarket shelves a year. Imagine that. And where do you think most of this iconic canned meat is eaten? Any guesses? No? Answer: Hawaii. A staggering 7 million cans of it a year!

Let me back up a little bit. Spam was born in 1937 in Austin, Minnesota, the home of George A. Hormel & Company. Before then, canned luncheon meats from Hormel were sold to markets in six-pound blocks. Butchers would shave off portions to order for customers. Jay Hormel, George’s son, came up with the idea of packing smaller amounts in cans for home use. And today’s 12-ounce-cans of Spam are sold around the world. Total sales? More than 8 billion cans since 1937.

Spam has been the butt of jokes for decades. When I tell people I love Spam, they say: “Are you serious?” Or, incredulously, “But you’re a chef!” Or in feigned disgust, “Do you know what’s in it?”

To the last remark: Yes, I do know what’s in it. The can of SPAM Lite I just bought lists the following ingredients: Pork with ham, chicken, water, salt, modified potato starch, sugar, sodium phosphate, potassium chloride, sodium nitrite. 

The can says 6 servings, 2 ounces each. And 2 ounces is what I eat at breakfast, sautéed. Calories: 110, Protein 9 grams, Total fat 8 grams, Total sugars, 1 gram, Sodium 570 mg. Calorie-wise the breakdown is Protein 36, Fat 72, Sugar 4. The total comes to 112.

And if I happen to be isolated on an island (Wait! I am!), the can says “Best by May, 2025.”

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Spam’s rise to fame happened during WWII, when millions of cans were consumed by hungry citizens of Pacific Island nations such as Hawaiians and by armed forces personnel overseas. Soldiers got so bored with it they joked about it mercilessly. Back home, they welcomed roast beef, chicken, and turkey with sighs of relief.

I grew up in Shanghai during WWII, where meat was always in short supply unless you were wealthy. My Dad befriended many GIs and they gave him a steady supply of Spam. It didn’t matter that our family was Jewish, and pork was definitely non-kosher. Spam took away our hunger, and I fell in love with its saltiness and tender texture. Once in love always in love. And to this day when I eat Spam I say silent words of thanks to those wonderful GIs.

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Please welcome back my wife, Dorothy, for another guest post! She sure has an eye, and taste, for some intriguing snacking in Kauai.

The population of Kauai may be small—around 70,000 residents—but they come from all over the world. And everyone loves snacks.  To satisfy these folks and tempt curious others like us, Kauai offers a huge selection of snacks from mainland U.S. and Asia.

Greg grew up in Shanghai, where he and his brother became addicted to chan pui mui, dried plums seasoned with licorice, sugar, and salt. You can’t just reach into the package, grab a couple, and pop them into your mouth. No, you need to work your way through three layers of different kinds of paper to reach each moist, cellophane-wrapped flavorful plum.

If you want your plums without so much work, you can go Hawaiian, and buy a bag of red li hing mui, which are only seasoned by salt and sugar. At first bite these plums may be off-putting, but they quickly can become almost addictive.  You can even buy li hing powder made up of ground up plums, including the pits, to sprinkle on fresh fruit or ice cream.

But warning here: that powder, or the plums themselves, are often sweetened at least in part by aspartame, a powerful chemical sweetener that can linger after the fruit is gone. Aspartame may have some negative health effects for some people. We only by the plums flavored with sugar and salt.

Neither of us either likes or trusts aspartame, so we always read the labels on the bags of dried fruits. Once you find you really like chan pui mui, you are happy to carry a handful of wrapped fruit in purse or pocket in case you get a case of the eats between meals. Chan pui mui can also help lessen nausea on a whale watching or Na Pali coast voyage.

Another popular type of snackage here is arare, Japanese crunchy crispy rice crackers that are seasoned by soy sauce and maybe other seasonings.  They often appear in different shapes and often in bags with mixed shapes. Arare are also sometimes part of a bag of mixed goodies, labeled ‘King’s choice” or some other fancy name.

Japanese fried peas, either coated with spicy wasabi or just with a delightful crunchy coating are popular as well.

Another category of snacks not familiar to most mainlanders is dried seafood of various sorts—Costco has big bags of dried squid, octopus, ahi (tuna) and more.

And lastly, of course there are the usual variety of familiar mainland chips and candies. The locally made potato chips, plain or onion-flavored, are terrific.

So, if you come to Kaua’i and love to snack, check out local stores such as Times market and also Costco, if you’re a member.  There’s lots of snack exploration to add to your list of activities.

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If there’s one food that should be Hawaii’s state dish it’s Saimin? And what is that? Noodle soup. But it’s not just any noodle soup. It’s fantastic. What you see in the above picture is a bowl of it—my lunch--from Hamura, a Kaua’i saimin restaurant that’s been in business since 1952.

I ate my first saimin at Hamura, and for me, it’s the gold standard. I could eat saimin every day because noodles are one of my favorite foods. I buy them fresh.

The name saimin—pronounced sighMIN—comes from two Chinese words, “sai,” meaning thin and “mein,” which means noodles. And we’re talking thin noodles. Whether egg is included is up to the noodle maker.

You may ask what’s the difference between saimin and ramen. The answer: a lot. Ramen noodles can be thin or wide. They’re eggless. Alkali is mixed into the dough giving ramen noodles a special slipperiness.

Saimin and ramen broths are not alike. Ramen broth is usually made with fatty pork, so it’s heavier and richer on the tongue than a saimin broth, which is light and sippable.

Saimin broth is traditionally made with dashi, a combination of powdered kombu (dried sea kelp) and flaked dried bonito (a tuna). Dashi is a Japanese condiment used widely as a foundation flavor in the cooking of Japan. Dashi powder is sold in packets and can be stored in a kitchen cupboard. You can find dashi in Asian markets and online.

To make the easiest saimin broth, you add 2 teaspoons dashi to 4 cups of water and bring to the simmer. Taste and adjust the seasoning with some salt, more dashi or soy or fish sauce. (I’ll have more to say about this later).

Saimin varies from restaurant to restaurant and family to family, which is what good food is all about, and probably reflects saimin’s origins in the late 1800s. At that time, when plantations were thriving, immigrants from Portugal, Japan, China, and other countries flocked to Hawaii for work.

Having food that field hands could bring to work and quickly heat up—noodles, broth, perhaps some cut up meat—may have been how saimin was born.

About a week ago we went for lunch to Tip-Top Café. I wanted to taste what their saimin was like. It came in a huge bowl with half a hard-cooked egg on top and a small side dish of freshly grated ginger and minced cilantro. Delightful.

Now back to some basics. When making saimin, get all your toppings ready before boiling the noodles. Fish cake, green onions, ham (or Spam—my favorite!), and hard-cooked eggs are all popular. And you can add or sub in anything else that strikes your fancy. (In the Hamura saimin photo that opens this newsletter the toppings include ham slivers, sliced pork, dumplings, celery, and scallions).

You can season your broth any way you like. I sometimes stir in oyster sauce and chili paste with garlic.

Fresh saimin noodles cook in about 3 minutes in boiling water. Have your broth ready in a separate pot on low heat. Drain the cooked noodles and divide them into serving bowls. Pour on the broth, arrange the toppings over the noodles, and serve.

Enjoy your saimin!

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I love eating pineapple at breakfast every morning. I serve it, diced, piled into the cavity of a papaya topped with drops of calamansi lime. For me that is “no ka oi,” the best.

Hawaii and pineapple are so wedded to each other I often assumed that the fruit had originated in the islands. Not so. It turns out that pineapple’s birthing place was far, far, away, and a long time ago in South America. Over time, the fruit migrated to many parts of the world, and thrived in Hawaii with its rich volcanic soil and tropical climate. The Hawaiian name for pineapple is “halakahiki,” or foreign fruit.

Way back in George Washington’s time, pineapple was revered as a symbol of hospitality. And it cost a lot of money. One perfect specimen could sell for as much as $8,000! Its beauty at the table drew oodles of praise, and it was never eaten.

Because transporting the fruit was always a dicey affair—Would it survive the long voyage? Would it be edible? Many countries established heated greenhouses where the fruit could be grown without having to make long journeys.

Pineapple’s great popularity in America is due to canning. James Dole founded the Hawaiian Pineapple Company in 1901. He wasn’t the first to can the fruit, but he was the first to see its tremendous economic potential. He even bought the island of Lanai and turned it into “The Pineapple Island.” By the 1930s Hawaii was known as the pineapple capital of the world, and Dole was processing over 200,000 tons of the fruit a year!

Back in 1979, I entered a contest, the National Pineapple Cooking Classic, and won a week-long trip to Honolulu with my recipe for a yeasted crescent dinner roll filled with pineapple and devilled ham. I was so determined to win that I drove my family nuts testing recipes for pineapple in everything--main dishes, side dishes, desserts, and breads—and submitted 21 entries over a two-month period!

On that trip, I loved the guided tours of pineapple farms and delighted in tasting freshly-cut pineapple. What a thrill to see a sea of pineapples growing right in front of me!

Myths abound about how to tell if a pineapple is truly sweet and ripe. Our guide shared some, such as: If you pluck a leaf from the crown and it comes out easily, the fruit is ripe. FALSE. He went on to say that he’d lost track of how many times he’d heard that one.

And what about sweetness? Our guide told that once the pineapple has been cut from its plant, you have removed it from its sugar source, which comes into the fruit via its base. A pineapple cut from its plant will never get any sweeter. It may get softer over a few days, but that’s it.

He also showed us the sure way to test a pineapple for sweetness. Holding the base of a fruit close to his nose he gave it a good strong sniff. He said if you get a sweet pineapple aroma, you’ve got a winner. This test works with fruit at room temperature, not with cold fruit.

So far I’ve been talking about pineapple as if were one thing, but it’s not. There are dozens of varieties. Sweet Cayenne, the yellow pineapple we’re probably most familiar with, does very well in Hawaii’s soil and climate. It’s available year-round, but not always in abundance.

I had a hard time finding any pineapple in January. Now it’s late February, and farmers markets and supermarkets are suddenly abundant with large and deliciously fragrant fruits.

My favorite variety is Sugarloaf. Its white flesh is low in acid and sweet as can be. Sugarloaf pineapple commands a premium price at farmers’ markets, about $25 for an entire fruit weighing 4 to 6 pounds. You can order it sent to the mainland or anywhere else by writing to: sales@kauaisugarloaf.com. When I checked yesterday, one fruit cost $35 and the FedEx shipping cost $35. That makes my $25 price look like a bargain, and it brightens my mornings every day for the next week.  Lucky me.