Recently in Ingredients
Have you ever had an ingredient call out to you? There's no planned menu, no special dish the needs making, and yet a single perfect tomato or vial of truffle oil beckons. It's an irresistible siren's call: you must try me.
My most recent muse was the simple squash blossom. A year ago, I'd never heard of them but then Ed mentioned how he incorporated them into town's menu whenever a particular lady in the back of Pālolo had them available. My timing has been off and I've yet to try his preparation, but then fate stepped in and gave me a batch of my own. There at the market sat squash blossoms, three bucks for a generous container. I was digging into my pockets for cash even as I mentally rearranged my schedule to be able to cook them. The problem was I had no freaking idea what to do with squash blossoms.
They were everything I'd imagined, gossamer-thin flowers with a hint of zucchini. My one mistake was going heavy with the parmesan, masking the delicate flavors of the smaller blossoms. Don't worry little flower, I'll be back again, with a gentler touch.
Every other month or so, the airlines have been competing with $19 inter-island flights. There's little excuse to stay home at that price. On a recent trip to the Big Island, Junko brought me back a tin of culinary lavender from the Aliʻi Kula Lavender farm in the shadow of Haleakala.
The color is light green with tips the muted purple of old ladies. The aroma is surprisingly intense, like a field of lavender on my countertop. Now I just need to figure how to cook with it. Ideas?
These fish are akule, also known big-eyed scad. I leave it as an exercise for the reader as to just why they might be called that, but I'll give you a hint. It might be because their eyes are so FREAKING BIG. Seriously, look at the size of those peepers, permanently frozen in wide-eyed surprise.
You think they look surprised now... they have no idea what's in store: Pan Fried Akule with Shoyu Butter Sauce. (Akule are also excellent baked, smoked or dried.) We're right in the middle of the season when akule are running--roughly September through January--so they can be found for as low as three to four dollars a pound for netted and hooked fish respectively. Get them while you can, because restrictions limit the availability of akule during most of the year.
The best gifts are often modest. Six orange-red persimmons, at peak ripeness, arrived in the hands of an old friend. "I thought you might like these."
I take my friends for granted.
These persimmons are perfect specimens, little round reminders that good friends are priceless. I need to do something worthwhile with them, more than just eating them one by one. Any tips for persimmons?
Let's say you've read up on the amazing utility and versatility of ti leaves and are now itching to get your hands on some for a recipe. That's when it strikes you--you've never seen ti leaves for sale at the local supermarket.
The best way to get ti leaves is local style: from a friend or "uncle." They grow in people's yards or--and you didn't hear this from me--along the sides of some public roads and parks. (Mālama the plants! Don't take too much.) Look for large, outer leaves, free from major blemishes and with a healthy green color. Grab the stem near where it joins the trunk and pull downwards. Never yank sideways or upwards as this can break the plant trunk.
Most florists will also have ti leaves on hand to sell, already cleaned and ready. It's not as satistfying to buy leaves from the florist, but sometimes convenience wins out. If you live in a different state, don't worry! Banana leaves can be substituted for ti leaves without adverse effects. Check the freezer case of larger Asian supermarkets for bundles of frozen banana leaves.
Now that you have a handful of ti leaves, we need to get them ready for use. It's easiest to wash them with the stem still intact. The stems tend to be dirty and often harbor ants. Once they're all clean, we're going to "de-bone" them to make them more pliable.
Pick up a leaf (lā`i) and hold it in front of you, tip (wēlau) towards the sky and shiny side facing away. Hold your fingers against the bone (`iwi) of the leaf about 1/3 of the way up from the stem (kumu), from the back of the leaf. This sounds confusing, but look at the position of my hands in the photo and imagine where the index fingers are pressing.
Holding the leaf
Bend the leaf forward towards you to crease the bone then bend it sharply away, pushing with your fingers against the bone to cause it to snap and separate from the leaf, trying not to break through the leaf. Run your fingers down the shiny side of the bone towards the stem to cause it to separate from the leaf. It's normal to ruin a few leaves as you practice, but you'll get the knack of it.
Removing the bone
Always prep a few more leaves than you need, because a few will inevitably split or tear along the way. If you don't need every single leaf for your recipe, use the remainders as table decorations or as bedding on a serving platter. If you're not going to use your leaves right away, you can freeze them for later.
Next up: recipes for laulau and baked fish wrapped in ti leaves.
This post is a continuation of my long-neglected Hawaiian luau series.
Best. Honey. Ever.
At $13 for an 8 ounce jar, it doesn't come cheap, but you'll be hard pressed to find another honey that even comes close. It is in a league of its own.
Rare Hawaiian Organic Honey comes from a single grove of kiawe trees on the Big Island, and must be harvested in a narrow window of time after the bees have ripened the nectar, but before the honey crystallizes in the comb. This allows them to extract the honey without the use of heat, which can otherwise alter and damage "the honey's color, taste, texture and beneficial enzymes."
The honey is unfiltered, giving it a beautiful pearly white sheen and viscosity similar to molasses. The flavor has strong tropical floral notes and a pleasant hint of honeycomb waxiness. My favorite way to eat this this honey is straight from a spoon; anything else might overpower the delicate nuances.
Locals can find Volcano Island Honeys at Hilo Hattie stores, Down to Earth, Diamondhead Market and the Executive Chef. If you're from farther afield, it can be purchased from Whole Foods (thanks for the tip, Suebob!) or directly through the Volcano Island Honey Company (minimum online order of $40).
The back label describes it as "large crystal turbinado sugar", but I describe it as pure yumminess in a jar. This particular sugar began life as sugar cane on a central Maui plantation. The cane was crushed for its juices, which were then boiled to separate out impurities. This purified sugar liquid is spun in a centrifuge or turbine (hence the name turbinado) to accelerate crystallization. The finished product made its way to the local market where I snatched it up and now use it liberally in place of both white and light brown sugars.
Tasting white granulated sugar, brown cane sugar and turbinado sugar side by side, there are distinct differences. The brown sugar is quite sweet compared to the turbinado, while the latter melts more slowly on the tongue as the amber crystals dissolve into a faint molasses finish. In comparison, the white sugar tastes bland and processed, like the cheese whiz of the sucrose world.
This sugar provides such the perfect complement to my oatmeal today that I'm inspired to wax poetic:
Caramel diamonds
Arrayed on their soft pillow
Until I scarf down.
For those of you with super-sized sugar cravings, Maui Brand's premium turbinado is available in one ton superblocks.
