māʻona

Hauʻoli Makahiki Hou!

New Year's traditions change over time. As a kid, we'd make a big bowl of popcorn, rent a stack of movies and watch as many as we could before midnight, at which point we'd catch the (rebroadcast) ball drop in Times Square. The next day we'd have a big celebratory meal with extended family.

By the time I reached a legal drinking age, I'd moved across the country from family. New Year's Eve was celebrated with friends, either at nightclubs or over special prix fixe dinners at restaurants. New Year's Day was for sleeping and relaxing.

Now that we live near my mother-in-law, Reiko, our traditions have drifted towards her Japanese tastes. The eve is either spent on a condo rooftop watching the professional displays, or setting off our own fireworks in Pālolo valley. (Is it just me, or were there a lot more illegal aerials this year, many of professional caliber. It looked and sounded like a war zone.)

The next day, we re-convene at Reiko's where she prepares a traditional selection of dishes to welcome the new year. Many of these dishes are unfamiliar, as we only see them once a year, but I've tried to ask questions and do additional research.

Osechi Ryori

Osechi ryori refer to special Japanese dishes prepared for the holidays, and in particular to usher in the new year. No cooking is allowed during the first few days of the new year, so my mother-in-law typically spends most of December 30 and 31 preparing her dazzling assortment, which she then artfully displays in beautiful lacquered Jyubako boxes. We greeted 2009 with a selection of Reiko's finest...

1. tempura - fried asparagus, carrots and eggplant with an accompanying yuzu salt
2. tofu - compressed with mirin(?) I don't know the name for this one.
3. kobu maki - thick konbu seaweed, simmered, rolled and tied with kanpyo. This dish represents happiness.
4. konnyaku - a gel-like tofu
5. sashimi - sliced raw tuna, salmon, hamachi, octopus and squid, along with a personal favorite, salmon row.
6. shiitake no nimono - shiitake simmered in mirin, dashi and shouu.
7. taro nimono? - I honestly have no idea, but that's my best guess.
8. kuromame - simmered black beans, slightly sweet. A symbol of health.
9. kamaboku - sliced fishcake. The combination of red and white is considered good luck.
10. more fishcake - the specific name escapes me.
11. ozoni - (not pictured) a clear bonito stock with spinach and charred, gooey mochi.
12. sake - (not pictured) Reiko prefers hers warmed.

Other years we've also had inari sushi, chirashisushi, unagi kabayaki and toshikoshi soba.

Serving is informal, with each of us snacking on small plates while we lounge around her condo. She says her family back home in Japan would play games around a low table and sing boisterous karaoke. I've never been a big fan of karaoke, but the rest of this is a tradition we can repeat every year. Gochisosama.

Honolulu Hale Christmas tree

Christmas for us this year is unwrapping in California amidst families, festivities and, of course, much food. Our last few days in Honolulu were crazy busy, but we still found time to swing by Honolulu Hale to view the city Christmas tree before flying out. I never tire of that, and it's even better now that Toshi is old enough to stare at everything with open-jaw wonder.

Mele Kalikimaka a me ka Hauoli Makahiki Hou!

Charcuterie and cheese

Hawaii's first Whole Foods Market opened a few hours ago, and if the next few are like this one, the other supermarkets had better step up their game.

Whole Foods is known for being the pricey gourmet/granola supermarket. Ecologically conscious and epicurean. Continuing the design trend Hawaii has been seeing in the newer Safeways like Kapahulu and Manoa (remodeled), the Whole Foods Market interior features dark floors, wood accents and warm lighting. If they had tables, you'd want to sit with coffee and a good book.

Food-wise, a surprisingly large amount of floorspace is devoted to prepared foods, everything from the standard poke counter, to paninis to a Chinese food counter. Many items are prepared fresh in the store. Sausages are stuffed by the butchers. Coffee is small-batch roasted by Allegro. PIzzas are fired in what looks to be a wood oven.

But what about the prices? I did a quick price comparison of a few staples to see if the "Whole Paycheck" nickname is deserved.

The first thing I notice is that food has become crazy expensive in Hawaii. Holy energy crisis, Batman! Eating costs too much. Beyond the generally high prices everywhere these days, Whole Food's prices for staples are pretty darn close to Foodland; some a bit higher, others lower.

The real reason people come to Whole Foods isn't for the staples though, it's for everything else: the cheese selection, the olive bar, the countless varieties of organic potato chips, the "I'm a conscientious shopper" vibe. And they do it well. Walking down the aisles, everything looks so good. Not good in the sense that you know it must be good for you if you can force this healthy crap down your throat, but good in the sense that you want to eat everything you see. Whole Foods first foray into Hawaii has succeeded at creating a store that carries items I want to buy. Maybe that makes me a cliche, but I'm okay with that.

This is one store I'm happy has opened in my 'hood.

Lavender reminds me of old ladies. My grandmother's linens in the guest bedroom were decorated with delicate lavender flowers, to match the depression glass bowl of lavender potpourri in the bathroom.

It wasn't until much, much later that I realized those same lavender aromas could be used to perfume food as well, and not just the biffy. Who says you can't teach a new dog old tricks? This recipe is a perfect use for culinary lavender, resulting in elegant cookies that are timeless in their appeal.

• 2 c. flour
• 1/2 c. sugar
• 2 T. dried lavender, finely ground
• 1 c. cold butter
• powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 375. Mix everything but the butter in a medium bowl. Cut the cold butter into chunks and add to the dry ingredients. Using a pastry blender or two knives in a scissors motion, work the butter in until it is evenly distributed and no large chunks remain.

Dump the mix into a medium baking pan. The exact size you choose depends on how thick you like your shortbread, or more practically, what you happen to have in your cupboard. After pressing the mix down with your fingers and smoothing it out, you ideally want a thickness between a quarter and half an inch.

Press the tines of a fork into the flattened shortbread to give it a pretty design. If the fork started pulling up the shortbread, rub flour onto the tines to remove any stickiness before continuing. Bake for 20-25 minutes until lightly golden. Score into square or diamond shapes while still warm, and then cool completely in the pan before removing them. Dust with sifted powdered sugar.

The first time I made this recipe, I made a double batch and had far too many shortbread cookies. To my surprise, they freeze really well and are delicious thawed or crisp and cold. I'd like to think grandma would approve.

The annual birthday cakes continue, this year with a three-dimensional stegosaurus. The earth underneath is marzipan, using whole instead of the traditional blanched almonds to give it texture. I spread it thin over the back of an industrial baking pan, tinted it with green food coloring, then dressed it with marzipan boulders and thai basil foliage.

The cake itself is made from a triple batch of devil's food cake, cooked in bread pans, shaped, then glued together with milk chocolate frosting and skewers. As in past years, the cake was a problem. This time the flavor was good, but the moist texture was unstable. One of the hindquarters kept collapsing.

The scales across the back come from a sea shell chocolate mold. I cut away the shell sides to get the classic stegosaurus wedged scales. Carved away sides became tail spikes. Finally, the eyes are from a candy necklace.

Total prep time: about five hours. Total time for crazed preschoolers to demolish it: less than five minutes.

Past cakes:
→ Year two: Pickup truck
→ Year three: Bob the Builder (and his reaction)
→ Year four: Spiderman