7/18/08 - Not very many things in life can beat a morning on a Hawaiian beach. Sand between the toes to stimulate all your pressure points and gently massage away your stresses, salt air to soak through your pores and rejuvenate all the vital fluids in your body, glorious sun-power to strengthen your bones and bronze away the pasty-white's, and let's not forget the minus ion's (negative ion's), as wifey calls them. She loves getting up close to the waves and in range of the invisible, tiny-little bouncing balls of energy. They say when when molecules are torn from the water they escape as negatively-charged ions and do amazing things to the human body, increasing depression-chasing seratonin levels, facilitating more oxygen to the brain, boosting immunity, and generally refreshing your entire body from the inside-out! From a more common-sense standpoint, it's that invigorating, yet subtle feeling we get when we stand next to a waterfall, experience a brief period of rain, or even jump under the shower.
Combine all of the above with your latest Zen-meditation techniques, and you won't let any bitter, down-on-life depression-monger spoil your day! Just don't be sitting upside-down cross-legged, clasping your hands in a mudra on the beach, allright? Some people may think it's cool, even much-respected if you happen to be along the banks of the Ganges, but most people in Hawaii will look at you like they do an old guy with long, white, scraggly hair and Speedo's.
As much as I've been talking about exercise and getting in shape recently, I had two choices on this particular day, cut short because of an early work schedule - run on the beach or read. Having just picked up a book and eager to amble through every titillating page, the choice was obvious.
One of my dreams in life is to be able to own a beach-front home, either in Waimanalo, Waikiki, or a handful of other gorgeous spots, and be able to watch either the sunset or sunrise, maybe both, every day, along with a brisk walk or jog and a refreshing dip. The early-morning and late-afternoon magic, beach-side, is one of the most surreal encounters on earth. And to capture that every single day?
Not that mid-day or late-morning, as it is here, is not picture-perfect in itself, especially with the hot babe laying out!
Seeing that we were on the Windward side already, what's a few more miles into Kaneohe town? Once again acting on tips and hunches, we paid respects to a small Japanese restaurant near the Windward Mall. Kikuya has been in business for over 20 years now, serving down-home, honest, remind-me-of-Grandma-type Japanese foods with a local bent. You know, the oba-chan's that are either tough-as-nails relics of the age of Bushido or sweet-as-pie and radiating warmth and kindness, all of them speaking an only-in-Hawaii language that somehow gets lost in the deep chasm, the charming void stuck somewhere between pidgin and Japanese.
I just love the presence a local-Japanese grandma brings - they make my heart melt into pudding every time, even the Samurai-types! Yes, I know that goes for grandma's in general, but I guess I'm just speaking from my own up-bringing, is all.
And boy, can they cook! All of them! No such thing as an oba-chan that can't cook the best potato-mac salad in the world, the meanest pan-fried menpachi and aweoweo, or the most amazing chicken hekka.
Though I didn't really see grandma back there in the kitchen, but grandpa, Kikuya definitely reminds me my dear-old oba-chan. No frills - just some ono, ono grinds in a friendly, relaxed, and very casual atmosphere. The store has moved from its original location down the street about ten years ago to a mini-industrial-looking section of Kaneohe, right on busy Kahuhipa st. off of even busier Kam Hwy.
Once inside, I felt like I was transported to some sleepy, back-street restaurant deep in the heart of Wailuku, Maui or Eleele town in Kauai, the entire interior carrying an old-school charm that took me way back to the days of netting o'opu and crayfish in the mountain stream or hooking aholehole down at the harbor. I surely gotta bring mom out to this place one day! She'll re-live her childhood for a lunch-hour's worth.
The menu is filled with both Japanese and local-Japanese favorites. There is both traditional udon and local saimin, traditional sukiyaki and local-style pork tofu, traditional oyako donburi and local-style fried akule! Here in Hawaii, all of the above are one and the same, anyway, whether they're traditional or local in origin or have morphed into a completely different dish. That's why we're called the melting pot. Besides, go back far enough and everything comes from China, right?
You can also find staple favorites such as any-kine katsu, teri beef or chicken, shrimp tempura, miso butterfish, and mahimahi, as well as oysters, scallops, or shrimps deep-fried, bbq-sticks, unagi donburi's, and a number of combinations and specials posted on the wall as you walk in.
Wifey ordered the most expensive item on the regular menu by far, at $17.75 (about $4 more than the next most-expensive dish), the Kikuya Special, high-roller that she is. I'll slowly unravel the contents of her meal over the next several photo's - don't want to rush on to the next destination without smelling the pikake and gardenia along the way.
Most orders come teishoku style, with small side dishes of tsukemono, miso soup, and rice in addition to the entrees. They didn't come on a single multi-pocketed box-server or a single multi-dished tray, but were instead placed separately straight onto the table. Wifey was kind enough to arrange and help them say cheese before going on camera.
The first thing down for me, always, is the miso soup. Like bread and olive oil before the puttanesca, spring rolls before the pho, and a soup or salad before the steak, miso soup is usually an accurate harbinger of things to come. As I expected, the soup was right on the money, with a strong taste that told me they don't skimp on miso paste - this was the real thing and very hearty, like grandma made for us grand-kids, not a watered-down version restrained by a chincy budget.
I guess more flattering to the bowl'd be to first stir it up before digitizing its qualities forever on my SD card, but I did want to show you how the flavorful paste starts separating and then settling the moment it's allowed to stand alone. Almost every sip must be stirred up first if you don't want to be left with a thick mud of pure miso at the end of the bowl.
The next item in wifey's grand order was a rustic pot of yosenabe, a kind of hot-pot where chicken, seafood, and vegetables are all thrown into a shoyu-dashi broth. Again, this dish hit close to home, smelling and tasting every bit like it would at a plantation camp get-together some 50 years ago. Actually, I better say, "how I think it would have tasted 50 years ago, since God alone knew of my existence back then - I don't think my parents even met yet. Transcending time and seeing both the future and past at the same time is, uuh, a little beyond my scope. 30 years ago? Yeah, I can definitely say that. Those plantation camps were a blast in the summers - red dirt everywhere, building a wood fire to take hot baths, seeing how many flattened toads I'd see on the dusty, earthen roads every day, fishing with grandpa, neighbors in and out, and oh, the grinds! That is, until grandpa and grandma moved out to the elderly-friendly townhome a while later.
The sashimi that came with wifeys order was suitable for serving at any fine sushi house in town! It was fresh, bright red (not carbon-monoxide red), melted nicely in your mouth, and was void of any dental-floss-like suji.
The final two items in this still-unraveling process of sub-100-pound-wifey's order was a miso butterfish and a mixed tempura. Both were excellent, with the butterfish coming, unlike the soup, with a very light application of miso, highlighting the moist, tender-white flakes in a more natural way. Despite the undeniable grill marks and taste of smoke on the fish, it also tasted like it was pan-fried for a little while as well, as it seemed to have that oooh-so nostalgic flavor of a good cast-iron pan with many years under its belt, never seeing the scrub of dishwashing soap at all.
The shrimp came in large, whole, and un-butterflied pieces, ensuring a healthy portion of sweet, intact shrimp, not the thinner, opened versions. The batter was actually a bit on the heavy side, which figures, as this is the local-style way! Not heavy as in okazuya-heavy, where it looks almost like a flattened okinawa donut with a tail sticking out, but just enough to satisfy your deep-fried inclinations.
Speaking of deep-fried, not many things can top a flounder dropped in the vat of super-heated lube. It is most often sold in Japanese restaurants and izakaya houses as karei karaage. This flatfish is often confused with hirame, or halibut. Not that you really wanted to know, but the way to tell equal-sized specimens of the two apart is if the fish is flat on the table, dorsal fin on top, the karei will always be facing right, whereas the hirame will always face left. Hirame also has a larger mouth and grows to sizes a flounder could never dream of in his wildest dreams, easily surpassing, by several times, even the biggest ulua in any Hawaiian undersea cave!
Here's a couple of hundred-something-pound+ hirame, or halibut, we caught up in Alaska. This is my good friend Oly's dad in the center, along with Wild Bill, my former crew boss over at the Esta Cada Fire House in Oregon, where we fought fires together, along with Oly. It's really grainy, but hey, no one had a digital camera ten years ago!
And this is my karei, or flounder. Notice he's facing right?
The entire fish is placed in the oil until it becomes so crisp you can eat most of the bones. Not some - most! The fin areas, especially, are very tasty, including the muscle under the dorsal fin called engawa, considered a delicacy in the sushi world. Being a flatfish, it doesn't have the most meat you've ever seen, but then again, you get this dish if you like fried foods, not for giant slabs of clean, white meat! Even most of the head and jaw that looks so menacing in the picture snapped into pieces like a potato chip.
After oohing and aaahing my way through the entire fish, except for some select portions for wifey, this was all that was left.
You'd figure after the karei I'd be asking for re-fills on my already-third batch of hot tea to wash it all down, but nooo, I'd continue on down this slippery slope of oily debauchery with a a single piece of chicken katsu on the side!
The katsu was just how I make it at home, except it didn't have the skins on. It was very thin, unlike a lot of places that use a thick piece of chicken. You'd figure thicker pieces mean more chicken and a better over-all dish, but savage that I am, I guess I love the taste of the oil and panko coating a little too much!
I heard that once upon a time, not very long ago, Kikuya offered a steamed moi plate on Thursday's, and the line would run right out the door and onto the sidewalk! I was bummed that they no longer offer steamed moi, or even mullet, but I didn't want to pry too much and ask why. I guess everyone's tightening the lids these days. No worries, though. This is definitely one place I can see myself coming back to again and again.
You all take care and have a great and wonderful weekend!
