The Refined: Hiroshi

Hiroshi Eurasian Tapas carried a lot of hype about it. It was a new concept for Hawaii, certainly (tapas are the small-portion dishes native to Spain), and also for the culinary community (as not many places were serving up "eurasian" tapas). It was even featured in Food and Wine magazine a while before it opened. I had read about the little molecular gastronomy dishes (foams, gels, etc), and was happy to see foie gras on the menu. It's no surprise, then, that I was expecting good things to come to the table.

I recall getting a call from my friend who had recommended the restaurant to me beforehand) after dinner. "Well, what do you think?"

"It was...pretty good."

"...You didn't like it, did you?"

"No...it was, uh, pretty good."

I meant it. It was pretty good in every way possible.

Dinner started with a small plate of rice crackers, served with a wasabi aioli. It was pretty good. I wished that they were warm, though. The aioli was quite addicting as well. It was a unique way to start off the meal; however, I was disappointed when the crackers stopped arriving after two stops. I had remembered getting served what seemed like a loaf of bread at Spago in Beverly Hills.

The first app to arrive, the seared ahi, was also pretty good. It came with little smears of fruity raspberry reduction, along with the prerequisite microgreens perched on the of the slices. The reduction was good with the ahi, bringing out the gentle flavor while adding a burst of flavor. But it wasn't anything mind-blowing (Hell, is there anywhere that makes an original seared ahi?).

The second was the deconstructed "Dip and Eat Caesar", which came with fresh, crisp leaves of romaine, along with a small bowl of grated parmeggiano and, interestingly, a foamed caesar dressing. This was, thankfully, more than pretty good. It was new and creative and, most importantly, delicious. The foamed dressing looked like whipped cream and had a lively, light texture in the mouth - a curious expression of the traditionally strong caesar flavorings of anchovy, egg yolks, and garlic.

The third was the butter-poached Kona abelone. Yes, the abelone was tender, as the server promised, but I thought the flavors were strange. The seaweed salad was fine, if a little bland. There were little garnishes of picked daikon. What was that strange flavor enveloping the abelone, though? It wasn't the foamed citrus vinaigrette. It was...

Shiso.

It was a wrong move in my opinion. The shiso drowned out the subtle ocean flavor that mingled with the buttery flesh. So close, yet so far...ending up in the grey realm of "pretty good".

This would become somewhat of a motto for the rest of the meal.

My filet with foie gras and a peppercorn relish was pretty good. Just pretty good, though. The foie gras was nearly nonexistent (at least give a good slab, you teasing bastards!), and the peppercorns were far too brutish in flavor. The vegetables that accompanied it reminded me of the cafeteria combination - peas, carrots, and lima beans. Boring. The veal and foie-gras demiglace was dense and velvety and exploding with flavor - in fact, it exploded all over my palate, preventing me from enjoying the steak with any sort of regard for subtlety.

The rib-eye was large, fersure, but it was only decent (cut too thin, with too much connective tissue). It also came with a boring selection of cooked veg, which was arranged prettily, but didn't taste particularly original.

The crisp moi was pretty good as well (especially the broth, which was rich and savory), but the fillet was far too small for something costing nearly 30 bucks. Is it a stretch to imagine that if you order such a dish, the fish will be substantial? It arrived with a plate of white rice, looking a little sloppy and out of place for the environment. Not a deal-breaker, perhaps, but could it have killed to fuss with the presentation?

At least service was friendly and prompt. Our waitress never forgot to check on us and get refills for our various beverages. It's good, because there's nothing worse than bad service at an expensive restaurant (in my opinion, it's the one thing that can debilitate an entire meal). Dessert was also quite decent, if not mind blowing. There was a flourless chocolate cake involved, which was slightly cloying (what else could you expect?) but in sort of a good way, if that's possible. The lemon cake tasted like an over-the-top lemon poppy muffin, and the POG cheesecake was both original (POG is a very local taste) and merely average (the cheesecake itself wasn't anything better than what you'd get at Costco). Again, there wasn't anything really wrong with what arrived. It was all just...missing the polish needed to excite.

I can't tell you that I wasn't disappointed. Hiroshi is an example of what happens what a decent idea doesn't always come through on the plate. I'm guessing things will improve. Maybe it was a not-so-great night. I hope the restaurant succeeds in the long term. But fine-dining scene is a dangerous one. I was wowed at Alan Wong's. Not so much here. If only ever dish had conjured up the same curiosity and surprise as the caesar.

The food isn't bad in any way, shape, or form at Hiroshi. The meal was pretty good. But the potential for greater work is there. It can do better than pretty good. A lot better.

The Innovative: Shokudo

Innovation is not a small animal. It takes a creative mind, along with skilled hands, to be innovative in an ever-progressing culinary world. Shokudo is a place that I consider to be innovative. Not because of what it is, per se, but more because of what it's not.

The restaurant is not the average Japanese fusion joint that sprinkles wasabi powder on a filet of Mahi and calls it a day. It's not gummed up by ill-fitting sauces or ingredients. It isn't Eurasian, but rather embraces it's Japanese-ness while allowing modern American and European influences to uplift it to something new.

Take the Mochi Cheese Gratin, for instance. Christ, I remember when I first tried this dish. I was incredulous. Cheese, on mochi, with nori, in a soy broth. What the hell? Does that honestly sound like a good combination to you?



Well, it tastes that way, that's for sure. Take a French idea (the baked gratin), add an Italian cheese (mozzarella), along with the prerequisite Japanese stuff (mochi, soy broth, nori), and what do you get? A dish that's damn delicious but is still unapologetically Japanese. It is. You're not going to see mochi used like this in many other places.

In effect, the restaurant is more about taking Japanese food from it's earthy, simplistic fare and injecting it with a newfound passion without abandoning those roots. It's innovative not for creating something particularly new but for taking a style of cuisine and sticking it into a different environment. When's the last time you've eaten agedashi tofu in a hip restaurant where they sell Calpis vodka martinis? Combine that with the sharing-friendly presentations and you've got yourself a damn enjoyable lunch or dinner joint to hit with friends or family.

After all, if you're paying someone to make you food, it might as well be worth the time and money.



It is at Shokudo. The aforementioned agedashi tofu is good, even if it is one of the most traditional items on the menu. Fresh made tofu, quickly dunked in hot fat, forms a sometimes-chewy, sometimes-crisp outer layer. Throw that in a soy sauce-base broth (Maybe the same kind in the gratin? Either way, it goes good with both items...) with some savory katsuobushi shavings and green onions and you've got yourself a refreshing, light appetizer that starts the meal off well.



The lobster dynamite is an other dish to try. The idea of a "dynamite" (pretty much anything drenched in mayo and baked) dish is something that is quickly becoming a trend in the US as well as Japan (Disagree? Look at okonomiyaki, glazed in Japanese mayo, and tell me that you disagre). It's studded with little pieces of lobster, along with a melange of vegetables, including broccoli, carrots, and zucchini. Unfortunately, the time I had it, the broccoli was undercooked (it crunched unhappily undertooth) while the zucchini was overdone (it squished unhappily undertooth). It's still a taste to try, though, especially when the veg is spot-on. Get extra garlic toast. It's crunchy and buttery - a perfect utensil for scooping up the sauce.



Unagi rice? Always a favorite. It comes steaming and toasting in a stone bowl, which is mixed up by the server. A trick? Let that sucker sit for a while and smell those rice kernels caramelize. The taste and texture of the near-burnt stuff is delightful and brings a whole new dimension to the dish. Don't forget to pour some vinegar on it (which arrives in a scalding little tea pot).




The pork was the low point of the meal. It was severely overcooked; most likely a careless error in the kitchen (I'm guessing the pork was cooked right, but sat on the pass for some time, cooking even more on the hot iron platter). The somewhat-stringy, dry meat was a shame to behold, especially because pork is an easy protein to cook. The onions were tasty, however - glazed in a ginger-soy sauce, it was a nice bed for the crappy pork chops. But you don't get kurobuta pork for the the bed of onions.



Honey Toast! A loaf of white bread, insides cubed, drizzled with honey and toasted, served a la mode. It's good. It's also a monster. Everyone enjoys it, usually. But really? In the end, it's still just bread with honey. As Mr. Kaya said, it's a ridiculous ripoff. Maybe people can't go through the trouble of toasting bread with honey, because this stuff goes like hotcakes (or, more literally, like a popular dessert). I think it's a bit silly. You be the judge.

Even with some off moments, Shokudo is a well-rounded restaurant. I always enjoy eating there because it's fun to eat there. There are an increasing number of skull-numbingly boring theme restaurants around Ala Moana (Especially Macaroni Grill. Sorry readers, but the food is lame there. What part of Italy tastes like that, anyway?, yet Shokudo stands alone. Innovation, I'm learning, is not always making something new. It's about doing what others aren't.

P.S. If you're over 21, I've heard raves about the house-special cocktails.

The Starbucks Debate

Starbucks has become ubiquitous now as America's coffeehouse, and in some places there are stores literally across the street from each other. There are 15,000 stores in 44 countries as of the present, and although growth has slowed, the company shows no sign of stopping expansion. It's a corporate powerhouse at this point, being not only the biggest coffeehouse in the U.S. but the world as well. The irony of all this is that in the beginning, Starbucks was a Seattle-based (go figure - the home of good coffee and indie ideals) coffee roaster and retailer.

What can we learn from Starbucks? At first glance, a lot. The company is constantly on the cutting edge for humanitarian and charitable efforts, including its contribution to the growing ideals of fair trade. It's a relief to see that in this day and age, there exists a CEO who wants to make sure that the "company's culture doesn't dilute in the face of expansion". Howard Schultz wants to run Starbucks like a small company. This makes me like Howard Schultz.

Globalization, even with all of it's negatives, is an undeniable factor in our everyday lives now. If a company is going to expand across the world, it might as well act like Starbucks.




There aren't many global corporations that make an effort to be this environmentally friendly (SB is 15 on the EPA's Top 25 Green Power Partners for purchases of Renewable Energy), nor are there many food-based companies that make an effort to obtain better ingredients. There is, in fact, a reason that Starbucks' coffee costs 2 dollars while McDonalds' cost 1. It's because they buy beans at over 2 times the commodity prices from fair-trade regulated farmers. It's also because they buy paper products that are made partially from recycled materials (they innovated the useage - SB was the first to get granted the FDA's approval to use recycled materials in food packaging). Hell, they even reduced solid waste output by 1.8 million pounds in 2004. That's admirable, no matter what angle you look at it from.

Of course there are criticisms and complaints. Environmentalists argue that Starbucks could be doing more to help the environment. Others argue that they should be buying more of their coffee Fair Trade Certified. Some people argue that they are just working towards more American imperialism (as they do have stores all across the world). Maybe these faults are legitimate. But compared to some other companies (cough, major fast food chains; Haha, do you sense a common theme in these blog posts yet?), Starbucks are true crusaders working for a better way to run a food corporation.

The culture of awareness that is growing everything here in America should give at least some credit to companies like Starbucks. Even though terms like "Fair Trade", as well as the idea that your purchase can help others (as is the case with the Product(Red) campaign) seem like the status quo now, it would have never happened without the push of influence from large companies like Starbucks. Hell yeah, they could have taken the easy way out. But they didn't. That's not to say that they don't have things to improve on, but regardless, it's more than what others are doing. With any luck, they'll follow suit.

Did I forget to describe the coffee? It's good. Better, certainly, than average. Especially that Pike's Peak Roast. It's smooth, with an almost cocoa-laced aftertaste, and hints of subtle spice (not too much floral or citrus, but that's really Africa's domain). If I do have a criticism, it's that the tea sort of sucks (not-the-best-leaves in traditional [see: crappy] tea bags). But it's a small criticism; after all, it's Starbucks Coffee, not tea. Also, does anyone remember that 10 years ago, we barely had any choices for coffee drinks? Hey, thanks, Starbucks. Thanks for making the mocha latte (shown at top) a commoner. It's delicious.

What can we learn from Starbucks? Maybe it's the idea that large corporations can really be aware of what's good for us and our world. Maybe it's the idea that quality ingredients speak for themselves. Whatever it is, I like it. Cheers.

The Pursuit of Perfection: Burgers on the Edge

What did I know about Burgers on the Edge (from here on out referred to as "BotE") as I walked in on that rainy evening?

Nothing, really. But the one thing I did know was that it was rumored to be damn delicious. To be honest, I had some preconceptions about how good it was going to be.

Oh, and how good it was.

BotE is one of those joints that has the potential to make it big, especially in a place like Hawaii where affordability isn't always the make-it-break-it question. Yes, that is potentially one of the drawbacks of BotE - the prices ain't cheap. However, the excellence of composition really make the meal worth it.

Again, this is an establishment that is a contrast to the usual burger mess sold to the willing masses - it's pricier, but for good reason: everything is made fresh, every ingredient is high-quality, and the items are unique and tasty. It's not the usual special-sauce-laden greasejob with a slab of American over it. The burgers are decidedly upscale.

Remembering the faces in line, I don't think anyone was complaining.

Another special twist to BotE is that you can custom order your burger, starting with an 8-dollar half-pound fresh ground chuck patty (it's huge). From there you get your choice of a venerable smorgasboard of condiments, including everything from red wine reduction glaze (!) to portabella mushrooms to a selection of cheeses, lettuces, etc. etc. etc.

It's an impressive menu, especially considering that aside from the custome orders they offer ready-made combinations, including chicken sandwiches and the like. They also have a few brow-raising items. One of these are the truffle fries.



Truffle fries?! In a small burger joint? This is a good sign. A very good sign. This is a good sign because anything truffle-related on a casual menu is a sign that 1) someone who runs the store knows how awesome truffles are to begin with and 2) this someone realizes that people should be trying foods with freaking truffles in them, because as (1) stated, truffles are awesome.

So maybe I was a little let down that the fries weren't pungently truffle mushroom-y. But the flavor was there. The musky scent drifted off of the hot, steaming fries. They tasted earthy. It tasted good. Admittedly, it's not something I plan on getting every time I visit (especially at near-5-dollar prices). However, it was a treat. It was also the principle of the matter that was important. Truffle oil, in a burger shop? It meant, above all, that BotE was an establishment working towards perfecting the art of the burger meal.



Yes, perfection is debatable. And yes, maybe perfection can be a simply-prepared cheeseburger. But perfection, I think, can also be a burger stacked with roasted pepper relish and top-shelf cheddar. I had the classic, which came with a 1/3 lb. chuck patty, the aforementioned relish and cheese, dill pickle chips and lettuce/tomato on an artisinal bun (made locally, at Mauna Kea Baking Company). It was good. Not only was the flavor combination good, each ingredient by itself was exceptional. Two things were noticably different.

1: the bread. The bread was not soggy, nor was it stodgy. It was fluffy, with a good crust.

2: the burger itself. The patty was not greasy. It didn't drip grey-brown fluid from the inside. No, the meat was moist and flavorful and cooked nicely (medium). It wasn't grainy, nor was it bland. Graciously, it tasted of meat and fire (and not the "broiled" liquid-smoke flavoring sh*t they put in BK patties either).



The way, we are reminded at times, it should be.

If a restaurant exists, it should be, at least in principle, striving for perfection. Doesn't that make sense? If you're going to charge people for your food, it should be made to the best, exacting standards you create. Otherwise, what's the point? Some restauranteurs understand this. Others don't. It's the places that don't that hurt cuisine.

Sacrifices do need to be made for the sake of price. Yet greatness lies in the details. And details, unfortunately, come as a result of skilled people making your food. It's not going to come from the daydreaming teenager making tacos with bagged meat and sour-cream guns for 7 bucks an hour.

The Traditional: Jimbo

Jimbo Restaurant sits partially obscured on King Street, tucked between cement buildings, with only a backlit sign to display its existence. It's not particularly flashy, nor is it new; I've been going there for years now. However, it's just the kind of place that most locals appreciate - a semi-hole-in-the-wall that has incredibly good food day after day.



It's the anti-McDonald's, in this little way. Secluded vs. mainstream. Locally owned vs. corporate. For tasty food vs. for profit. Good...vs. bad. Kind of like Star Wars, but with noodles instead of lightsabers.

Speaking of the noodles - they're freaking delicious. There's no way around it. Made in-house (you have to give them enormous credit for that - not many places make their own noodles), the noodles are satisfyingly chewy and charmingly misshappen at points,
with a lightly nutty, wheat-y flavor.



The broth itself is different than much of the stuff around the island, which tends to be shoyu-based and pretty monotonous in flavor. Jimbo's is slightly amber-colored, with an earthy scent that floats in steamy wisps to your nose, and a clean, refreshing flavor that isn't overpowering with any particular spice or flavor. It's a good backdrop to the perfectly done udon noodles.

There are many other dishes that shine here too. The curry udon with shiso, which Erin chose, looked damn tasty. The shiso leaf is a distinctive herb (formally known as perilla that has a lively, minty, licorice-y taste (like what would happen if mint and fennel wonderously copulated). It's a nice contrast to the deeply spiced curry coating the udon noodles, and highly recommended if you don't mind the herb flavor itself (which some do, like Alysha). The shiso chiffonade is actually a side dish, and can be had with any of the udon dishes. I plan on trying it next time with the normal udon.



I got the tempura udon combo, which comes with the prerequisite bowl of udon, a plate of tempura (the choices are shrimp with veg, tako with veg, or all veg with kakiage), a small bowl of specially prepared rice (seasoned with soy and studded with chewy shiitake mushrooms), and a little container of just-right tsukemono - not too salty, not too sweet, not too tangy. The tempura is consistently marvelous, with all the characteristics of the well-made variety; it's light and ethereal, crisp, buttery and substantial. However, one gripe surfaced in my mind when took a bite of my octopus: it was a little tough.

Sure, one could argue that octopus is always going to be slightly tough, but the tako tasted like the kind you get frozen in a box from a sushi purveyor (honestly, I would know). All told, it's a forgivable aspect of the meal; the shrimp (or all veg) are better. However, if I'm paying 13 dollars for a combo, I would like to see the tako done right - braised until tender, then dunked into the fryer.

Then again, I have, some people might say, high standards.

Jimbo is consistent with the quality of food, which I appreciate. There are rarely ever "off" meals served here. Pretty much everything on the menu is tasty, and although I'm not sure if the kiawe grill (specials include shiso-grilled beef, grilled asparagus, etc.) still exists for weeknight dinners, I remember that it's fantastic. Overall, it's a great place to eat. Friendly service, no-B.S. food, decent prices...what more can you ask for?



Traditional eateries like Jimbo represent all that is good about eating. It might not be creative, but it's really all about the comfort food. Whether it's a New Jersey diner or a small taco shop in East LA or, as in this case, a noodle shop in Honolulu, traditional, owner-operated restaurants fight a silent battle against the march of conformity in America's food scene. McDonald's, KFC, Burger King, IHOP...it's a fact, not an opinion, to say that these establishments are edging out small businesses all over the planet.

It's almost pathetic that the American mainstream allows these bland, soulless establishments to capture more of the landscape, like a fascist army of pre-processesd, convenienced-based, profit-prioritized battalions. The real question here is, why do people choose the big names over the better, smaller businesses strewn all across the country? I haven't truly discovered the answer to that question yet. Maybe some people are like me. Maybe they do know better. Maybe, God willing, they understand how damaging our increasingly homogenized food culture is. Which still doesn't answer the question: why?

Sometimes I can't even answer for myself, which is why I feel like I'm commiting a sin when I choose, out of laziness, to eat at Jack in the Box. Shouldn't I be looking harder? I ask myself. You're a damned hypocrite, my conscience whispers menacingly. After all, you're the one who protested McDonald's in the summer for your econ project! The paper bag, filled with mayo-and-ketchup-stained wrappers, stamped with that horrid fast food logo, glares up at me from the trash can when I'm finished eating. Liar! Imposter!

Alright, so maybe my trash doesn't talk to me.

Regardless, it's important to see how much of an improvement real food can be. We get so uptight about what we eat - if it has too much cholesterol, sugar, trans fat, MSG. Hah! It seems we care more about MSG than carelessly made food. MSG?! That stuff is harmless to 95 percent of the population. And yet it somehow represents a greater danger than the lube-leaking beef patties sitting around in bacteria-breeding temperatures at the nearest Golden Arches.

I see more and more that such comments go mostly ignored by my friends and also by the majority of America. And it's not that I'm so anti-American as to accuse the majority of the population of being ignorant, but in all honesty, ignorance is a bit rampant in this country. We are, in some ways, kind of like the cattle we consume - so used to the status quo that we move through life not seeing the possibilities.

Jimbo represents a better possibility that more and more people (metaphorically and literally) pass by each day. Maybe that statement is a bit overdramatic; nevertheless, the fact of the matter is that we all have opportunities to eat better every day.

In fact, the conclusions seems to be that the only thing stopping us from doing so is...ourselves?

What is Food?

For much of the country, food is not a passionate subject.

Sure, it may taste good, and it might even be the centerpiece of an occasion once in a while, but the vast majority of Americans still care as much about their food as they do about the EZLN (which is to say very little).

The fact of the matter is, food is much more than mere sustenance.

If you look at cultures all across the world, you will find that cuisine is one of the defining factors that makes a region or country unique. Even in our own nation, regional cuisine-based idiosyncracies are some of the most prominent points of pride and division. Texas' brisket (no pork here). New York' pizza (thin, goddamn it, thin!). Hawaii's...Spam (still can't believe it's tasty). The list goes on.

It's unfortunate, then, that so many people remain apathetic about what goes into their mouths.

McDonald's. Taco Bell. Burger King. All are a reflection of how lazy our society has become - searching for convenience while turning a blind eye towards authenticity, creativity, and genuine goodness. Careless food is an epidemic sweeping the world, as efficient, profit-focused fast-food chains slowly gain territory like some sort of cancer.

We've forgotten, I believe, what real food truly is.

This project is a mission to root out some of the best examples of good food - the establishments that fight the valiant fight against the epidemic, the last pillars of great gastronomy, the true eateries that have lasted or hopefully will last many years.

It's time to explore the indelible connection between food and culture, whether that connection comes from the humble roast duck of grimy, charming Chinatown or the art-like dishes of Oahu's fine-dining scene.

Most importantly, it's time now to take stock of what eating really can be.