I love Hawaii. Last spring, I treated myself to a vacation on the
Big Island and want nothing more than to go back. Forever. It’s hard to
pinpoint exactly where all this affection comes from—the slower
pace, fresh fruit, and hot beaches have something to do with it. But
from the moment I stepped off the plane in Hilo, everything and
everyone seemed oddly familiar. It makes sense, I remember thinking to
myself at the time, I’m still in America. I was amazed when the
realization later hit me: I’ve never been to another state in the union
where most people actually look like me.
Hawaii is brown-people paradise, populated with Polynesians,
Japanese, Chinese, Filipinos, Koreans, and Portuguese—and,
appropriately, Hawaiian food reflects this mixture of people. While
Hawaiian food incorporates all of these cuisines, it’s far from fusion.
A Hawaiian menu is typically vast and somewhat disorienting, listing
many dishes from different countries under their original name and in
mostly original form (tonkatsu, adobo, gyoza, kimchi), side by side.
Spam is heavily represented. What brings these divergent elements
together is something decidedly American—macaroni salad. The
cultural mishmash of Hawaiian food fills my heart and soul up as much
as my stomach. And make no mistake: A Hawaiian plate lunch—one
consistently enormous serving of protein, two scoops of rice, one scoop
of macaroni salad—never fails to fill.
There’s no shortage of Hawaiian restaurants in
Seattle—Hawaiian Barbecue Restaurant in the University District,
Kona Kitchen in Wedgwood, Aloha Plates in the International District,
Kauai Family Restaurant in Georgetown, Northshore BBQ in Greenwood, to
name a few. After talking to friends from Hawaii, reading countless
online reviews, and eating at most places, I discovered that most of
the Hawaiian restaurants in the area are worth checking out for one
meal, but beyond that, opinions vary wildly and are highly personal.
(Some people are willing to overlook mediocre barbecue for superior mac
salad; some people insist their restaurant of choice is the only one
that makes proper Huli Huli chicken.) I also discovered that,
tragically, my favorite Hawaiian places are located far, far away from
my house.
Last month, when Northshore BBQ opened a second
location at the intersection of 12th Avenue, Boren Avenue, and Yesler
Way, I made a beeline for the place. While thrilled by the prospect of
having Hawaiian food within quick walking distance, I remained cautious
because I have always believed that the odd triangle lot, formerly home
to the doomed Lloyd’s Rocket, is cursed. Sadly, my visit did not allay
these fears. Northshore has painted the walls bright orange and thrown
festive-looking surf boards up on the wall, but it doesn’t make up for
the ice-cold breeze that blows through the building and the pervasive
feeling of impermanence. Kalua pork with cabbage ($7.99), while
decently flavored and moist, did not even remotely resemble the
traditional dish in which an entire pig is wrapped in ti leaves and
roasted in an underground pit. Instead, it was obviously boiled and
stringy, not quite worthy of its name. The macaroni in the mac salad
was overcooked and mushy, and desperately needed a few shakes of salt
and pepper. Loco Moco ($6.99)—scoops of white rice, a hamburger
patty, and a fried egg all covered in brown gravy—was also fine,
the gravy was a bit bland, and the hamburger patty gristly.
Northshore’s food is entirely serviceable and will do in a pinch, but
it’s well worth the trek to other Hawaiian joints for a truly
satisfying meal.
L&L Hawaiian Barbecue is a popular fast-food
chain that’s branched out into the mainland, and now has over 200
locations, including three in the Pacific Northwest. Its tiny location
in Renton, tucked away in the far end of a strip mall behind an Arby’s,
is a hidden gem. L&L may be fast food, but everything is fresh and
made to order, and the portions are massive. A barbecue mix plate
($8.95) contains three mountains of what is essentially teriyaki sliced
beef, short ribs, and chicken breast, perfectly grilled, a little
charred and smoky, but still moist. Soul-draining trips to Ikea should
be rewarded with a visit to L&L.
The best Hawaiian food around, hands down, can be found at
Kauai Family Restaurant in Georgetown. I routinely
dream about Kauai’s kalua pig with cabbage ($8.25)—a dense pile
of moist, silky, and delicate shreds of smoky pork. You can taste the
time it takes for the meat to cook down and grow so rich and delicious.
The accompanying cabbage is soft and sweet, but still retains its
crunch and bite. Kauai’s Loco Moco ($5.50) is my favorite, go-to
comfort dish in town. The hamburger patty is salty and sweet (do I
detect some Lipton Onion Soup Mix in there?), thick and hand-formed,
and grilled to perfection. It’s served in a bowl, atop a mountain of
white rice and beneath a runny fried egg, and swimming in a brown gravy
that’s got more peppery depth than any other I’ve tasted. As the name
suggests, the beauty of Kauai Family’s food comes from the fact that
it’s real, home-style cooking. This is the kind of food family members
gather together and spend a whole day cooking for themselves—and
the feeling of community and comfort extends from Kauai’s kitchen to
the restaurant’s tables.
Standing up after a plate lunch of kalua pig and cabbage at Kauai
Family Restaurant, making my way to the front register to pay, I always
feel as though my stomach has expanded—only slightly, but perhaps
permanently. I am more ready to lie down than make the drive home. On
my last trip, the sweet woman running the register asked me how my meal
was. “Delicious,” I replied. “Although now I’m a little bit sleepy.”
“Good,” she said, patting my hand and smiling. “That’s the way it’s
supposed to be.”
