South Pacific adventure sets course for cookbook

• 'Polynesian Kitchen' rich in recipes of South Pacific

By Wanda A. Adams
Advertiser Food Editor

The Hawai'i chef's newest cookbook, "Sam Choy's Polynesian Kitchen," is filled with recipes of many islands — and stories about his travels in them. Deborah Booker • The Honolulu Advertiser

Some years ago, Choy had been giving cooking demonstrations aboard the Crystal Symphony in the South Pacific, with his son, Sam Jr., along for company. The two needed to get back to Honolulu, and they had two options: disembark in Fiji and fly north, or cruise to New Zealand and go from there. The guide book said there was an international airport at Savu Savu, so he thought it would be fine, and they'd get to see a little of Vanua Levu island, too.

Well, they saw a little too much of Vanua Levu. First of all, the port city where they docked was "over the mountains" from the airport, as the Fijians who gathered around him cheerfully reported. (He had managed to make friends immediately, in typical Sam Choy style, calling out a friendly "Bula!," the Fijian equivalent of aloha!) None of the taxi drivers he talked to would take him (small cars, big guys, too far). Finally, a truck driver who had just delivered a load of produce offered to take the Choys for $100. Sam Sr. talked him into $50. There followed a riotous adventure with Sam Jr. literally bouncing up and down in the back and having to lie on the luggage to keep it from flying out of the truck. Dad was torn between nervously watching the muddy, unpaved road and keeping an eye on his son. When they arrived at the airport, it was a Quonset hut with a runway half of grass, half of asphalt.

By then, Sam Jr. — far from malls and MTV — was ready to revolt. But chef Sam immediately recovered his good humor when food vendors appeared to entice him with a variety of Indian-inspired wraps, stuffed with vegetables and curries.

Shortly thereafter, Choy met Jean-Michel Cousteau, son of the famous ocean explorer, who maintains an eco-resort in Fiji, and told him about the bounty of the islands, the fruit and produce. And then, as they flew away, he looked down at the deep blue lagoons, which he knew to be teaming with fish. "You know what?" Sam said. "There's gotta be a book in this place."

The book he eventually produced with writers Steve and Ui Goldsberry of La'ie is "Sam Choy's Polynesian Kitchen" (Hyperion, hardback, $29.95), and it showcases the polyglot cuisines of the Pacific islands, including Hawai'i.

"One of the really intriguing things to me is the mixture of cultures and influences. In Tahiti, there's the French and Chinese as well as the Tahitians. In Fiji, the Indians and Chinese. In Samoa, the European and American along with Polynesian. In New Zealand, the British," he said.

The book took quite some time to produce, with Choy visiting each island group five or six times over the years. Essays before each chapter recall his experiences there. The recipes he collected had to be adapted by Ui Goldsberry to be of use across the United States. An ingredient guide that's worth the price of the book tells how to find, use and store everything from banana leaves to fiddlehead ferns.

The South Pacific islands remind Choy a lot of growing up in La'ie — the friendliness, the casual hospitality, the unpretentious attitude toward food and entertaining, and the bounty of homegrown and home-harvested food. "There's no Star Market. Everything comes naturally. I was just very moved by these places," he said.

As he recalls them, the words tumble out. "Oh, in Tonga, the blue sky just melts into the blue ocean, and the lagoons are so rich, just so rich in fish. The vegetation in Samoa — one time my friend said, 'We're gonna make a party.' I said, 'Where's the food?' He just made his hands like this." Choy gestures upward. "It was all around us, the coconuts, the fish, the fruit. Oh, in Tahiti, the wahoo, which is ono, the reef fish, the octopus, the kids on the side of the road with a string of akulekule.

"You know, it's just like Hawai'i. Their heart is in the food."

Choy said many people in Hawai'i know little about the foods of the rest of Polynesia. Many have never tasted the delicious laulau of Samoa, palusami, or the Tongan version, lupulu. In both cases, taro leaves, onions and fresh-squeezed coconut milk are wrapped in ti or banana leaves (or foil) and baked imu-style, but the Tongan version includes an addition from World War II days — corned beef.

"You take the taro leaf, the coconut, the onion, the salt, wrap it in ti leaves and put it in the imu, and you get the wood-smoke smell from the banana stump and the moist heat from the rocks, and that spinach is just melting into the coconut and into that meat, and you get a happy feeling," he said.

Choy found much that was familiar but also much that went far afield from the Hawai'i experience, particularly the spicy, aromatic Indian dishes of Fiji.

The primary commonality was in the spirit, he said. Although there is a certain reserve in Polynesian people, they respond to those who are genuinely interested in their culture and don't stand on ceremony — like Choy, who insisted on going behind the scenes wherever he went. "All over Polynesia, you have that love feeling, that caring, that 'ohana," he said. Once you get over that fence, it's just like Hawai'i."

'Polynesian Kitchen' rich in recipes of South Pacific

Sam Choy's travels throughout Polynesia have resulted in a new recipe collection, "Sam Choy's Polynesian Kitchen" (Hyperion, hardback, $29.95). In many cases, he and co-author and tester Ui Goldsberry created variations on traditional recipes to make them more convenient or to lighten them.

This is a version on traditional Tongan lupulu, which usually is made with corned beef (a food that many Pacific islanders developed a taste for during World War II). It's similar to Hawaiian chicken lu'au. Remember that lu'au (taro leaf) must be thoroughly steamed or boiled for 40 minutes or so because uncooked leaves contain crystals that will cause your mouth to itch or burn. To clean, pull the stalk out of the leaf and remove any central thick veins, then pinch off the tip of the leaf before chopping. Cooked spinach may be substituted for lu'au leaf.

The quality of the ingredients is important in a simple dish like this. Choy says if you can't get fresh coconut milk, he favors dried coconut milk reconstituted in water. This is an Asian product, available in some Asian markets. Canned or frozen coconut milk is acceptable, too.

Chicken Lupulu

• 1 pound lu'au leaf, cooked
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 1/2 medium onion, chopped
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 3/4 pound boneless chicken breast, cubed
• 1 cup chicken stock
• 1 cup coconut milk
• Salt to taste
• Hot rice

Drain and squeeze excess liquid from lu'au leaf. In a large saucepan, heat butter. Sauté onion and garlic until translucent. Stir in cubed chicken and cook for 4 minutes, stirring constantly. Add chicken stock, coconut milk, lu'au leaf and salt. Simmer 20 minutes. Serve over hot rice.