I was hell-bent on eating poi during my Hawaiian vacation. You know me, always determined to have that authentic experience. Guess what? No luck. The restaurant scene on the Big Island is kind of bleak. The place voted the island's best was resoundingly mediocre. Lilikoi (that's passionfruit) is ubiquitous, except it wasn't in season and overly-sweetened concentrate was being used for everything from cocktails to custards. Just not the same. And why not serve the amazing guavas, mangoes and strawberries that were colossally fresh and delicious? Well, because many Hawaiians, like their fellow mainlanders, have let go of much of their traditional, locally grown food and now rely on processed crap. Poi, a starchy paste made from fermented taro (or sometimes breadfruit), and traditionally eaten with fish was not on any restaurant menu. I didn't see it at any of the markets we visited, either. Foiled! We ended up cooking at home quite a bit since our rentals were equipped with pretty good kitchens and we ate well, mostly thanks to the beautiful farmers market in Hilo.
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Hawaii's Big Island was full of impressively lush vistas like this one. For the first part of our stay, we were on a wonderful private ranch at the island's northern tip, near Hawi. Horses, chickens and a sweet dog roamed the property where our group of six inhabited two separate bungalows. Ours had a hot tub and a resident spider (see below). There were avocado, mango, macadamia, guava and papaya trees and an organic vegetable garden. From our high bed we could look out over blooming violet jacarandas and golden-green meadows to the ocean in the distance. It was heavenly.
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Home again, home again. As much as I love to travel, sometimes I think coming home is the best part. Especially when the transition from balmy Hawaii to balmy New York is so smooth. (Minus the jet lag, of course.) Our trip to the Big Island was extraordinary, and I plan to tell you all about it, but I hit the ground running and have not yet had a chance to sort through all the photos, much less my thoughts. So that's for next week. For now, a few glimpses of spring's first signs—it's arrived fast and furious in these parts—and links to some of my latest discoveries. I'm chomping at the bit to start foraging and have a long list of wild edibles I'm determined to find this season. By the way, I've missed you madly and realize all over again what a wonderful creative and social outlet this blog is for me.
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With the equinox less than two weeks away, spring is in the air, quite literally. It smells of change, a watery freshness that has beckoned the migrating birds, the slumbering bears, the silent buds. The ground was speckled with an ethereal frosting of something this morning—teensy hail? powdery snow?—that's already dissipating as I write this. The first sign of the new season, fragile yet hardy snowdrops, have popped up beneath the river birch. I leave for Hawaii on Sunday. With a couple of posts in the hopper, the blog won't be completely silent this week, but travelogues won't post until my return. This is a vacation, and vacation I will.
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