Sunday, May 29, 2005


When my dad invited his haole (white) friend and he said, "Hey, pau hana let's go my house for grind. We got plenty ono pupu-poke, musubi, might even be some pipikaula and po'i in the fridge," don't hold your stomach (or cover your ears) in bewilderment. Pupu (hors d'oeuvres) and pipikaula (dried beef) are perfectly acceptable subjects in polite company, poke has nothing to do with sticks and musubi isn't a Japanese conglomerate. They're all tasty "grinds," the local term for food, or to eat." He introduced him to our local food and Hawaiian culture which he started to feel comfy. Also, he married his half Japanese and Hawaiian wife for her cooking. He was local by his heart and that was one of those moments I remembered as a nine years old. memories... Posted by Hello


Post a Comment

<< Home