Sponsor

Today is Giving Tuesday!

Give back to local trustworthy news; your gift's impact will go twice as far for LAist because it's matched dollar for dollar on this special day. 
A row of graphics payment types: Visa, MasterCard, Apple Pay and PayPal, and  below a lock with Secure Payment text to the right
Audience-funded nonprofit news
radio tower icon laist logo
Next Up:
0:00
0:00
Subscribe
  • Listen Now Playing Listen
NPR News

A Backyard Luau Brings the Islands Home

With our free press under threat and federal funding for public media gone, your support matters more than ever. Help keep the LAist newsroom strong, become a monthly member or increase your support today.

I learned about luau at the source.

On my first trip to Hawaii, my sisters, brothers and I feasted under sunset skies at tables long enough to seat dozens. We had kalua pork, a pig roasted whole in an underground oven (imu) for roughly two days; lomi lomi salmon (shredded, salted fish with onions and tomatoes); poi (cooked and pounded taro root); haupia (coconut custard dessert); and mai tais (fruity rum-based drinks).

We were participating in an ancient island tradition of celebration. Auspicious occasions such as a good harvest, the birth of a child or a winning battle were marked by such meals, which by the 19th century were called luau. The word comes from a dish made with young taro leaves.

"With the luau," Hawaiian chef Alan Wong writes in New Wave Luau, "we celebrate the spirit of ohana and family, and mark important passages and events." Ohana is a Hawaiian word referring to family and friends. Today, people throw a luau for graduations, reunions, weddings, birthdays and anniversaries and as housewarming parties.

Sponsor

Any excuse works. So when my neighbors take another Hawaiian golf-and-spa vacation, leaving me to pick up their mail or keep an eye on their house, I find ways to cook luau foods in my own kitchen. I have learned to make kalua pork in a conventional oven in just a few hours. I have tried my hand at lomi lomi salmon.

The luau is my festive default for summer parties. When guests arrive in casual Hawaiian shirts, I can greet them at the door with a floral or shell lei. I set up tiki torches and citronella candles, and play slack key guitar music or classic Don Ho. It all goes well with pitchers of mai tais.

On a buffet table decorated with small tropical plants, I lay out platters of homemade luau dishes. I supplement the oven-roasted pork with grilled chicken teriyaki or kalbi, Korean barbecued ribs, nods to the Aloha State's multicultural influences.

My siblings and I saw the polyglot nature of Hawaiian food in the plate lunches we got from roadside diners and drive-ins. Considered local comfort food, the quick, affordable Hawaiian plate lunch includes generous scoops of white rice and macaroni salad, and a chicken, beef or fish entree.

I sometimes serve poi at a luau. Poi (which means "to pound") is made of steamed and mashed taro root with water added for consistency. It is like a creamy, starchy mixture of potatoes and chestnuts. The purple paste is occasionally left to ferment, giving it a slightly sour flavor. It is an acquired taste.

Other sides and salads and fresh-cut tropical fruits -- guavas, mangos and papayas, for example -- are on my luau menu. For dessert, I make a banana cake or a pineapple upside-down cake, and coconut custard. Or I bake cookies. In Hawaii, we snacked on crisp Kauai Kookies, with varieties such as chocolate chip macadamia and guava macadamia. And any dessert tastes good with a cup of Kona coffee.

By the end of the evening, I have traveled to the islands without leaving my backyard.

Sponsor

Read last week's Kitchen Window.

Copyright 2023 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.

At LAist, we focus on what matters to our community: clear, fair, and transparent reporting that helps you make decisions with confidence and keeps powerful institutions accountable.

Today, on Giving Tuesday, your support for independent local news is critical. With federal funding for public media gone, LAist faces a $1.7 million yearly shortfall. Speaking frankly, how much reader support we receive now will determine the strength of this reliable source of local information now and for years to come.

This work is only possible with community support. Every investigation, service guide, and story is made possible by people like you who believe that local news is a public good and that everyone deserves access to trustworthy local information.

That’s why on this Giving Tuesday, we’re asking you to stand up for independent reporting that will not be silenced. With more individuals like you supporting this public service, we can continue to provide essential coverage for Southern Californians that you can’t find anywhere else. Become a monthly member today to help sustain this mission. It just takes 1 minute to donate below.

Thank you for understanding how essential it is to have an informed community and standing up for free press.
Senior Vice President News, Editor in Chief

Chip in now to fund your local journalism

A row of graphics payment types: Visa, MasterCard, Apple Pay and PayPal, and  below a lock with Secure Payment text to the right