Happy birthday, Miss Marvelous!

Ayla turns 4 today. I am her Popo. Happy Birthday and Hau‘oli Lā Hānau to a beautiful princess! Buona Giornata! I love you very much!

Tofu Acres

On the spur of the moment Becky invited me to go with her and Susan to visit Leigh on Hawai‘i island last weekend. I didn’t have to think twice. Of course! We hadn’t seen Leigh in a few years . . .

Leigh’s life partner Diana told me, when I visited before she died, that she planted every day. The evidence shows now with all manner of fruits, vegetables, and flowers flourishing on the 12 acres of the farm called Tofu Acres.

As the plaque stuck in a rusty planter barrel reads, “The kiss of the sun for pardon / The song of the birds for mirth / One is nearer good heart in a garden / than anywhere else on earth.”

Citrus, papaya, banana, poha berry, guava, taro, chayote, kitchen herbs, and strawberries mingle with gardenia, cigar flower, hibiscus, ginger, plumeria, anthuriums, orchids, and roses. Hāpuʻu tree ferns, ʻōhiʻa lehua, and waiawī of the neighboring ʻŌlaʻa Rain Forest remain rooted at the borders. All embrace two small wooden cottages that Smiley built.

. . . Becky and Leigh were my first two Lanihuli-Drive-apartment roommates, one after the other, in college. We were all journalism majors at the University of Hawai‘i in the late Sixties and started our careers writing the daily news. Leigh is still a reporter, Becky became an attorney, and here I am the blogging fool. Susan latched on to us sometime along the way.

Leigh didn’t have a choice in the matter. We three descended on her private world, inviting ourselves to spend Saturday night and all-day Sunday. Just us girls. For a few hours, time stood still . . .

Tofu Acres sits between Mountain View and Glenwood on the way to Volcano.  It is home to 9 dogs, 5 cats, 1 black pig, 1 goat, 1 mynah bird, 7 ducks, about 40 chickens, and Leigh—who rescued most of the animals and has names for all except some of the chickens.

Did I mention fresh farm eggs for breakfast?! That’s what we woke up to after an evening of pathetic Scrabble and reminiscing. You know, journalists and their words are almost as bad as linguists. The romantic glow of antique lamps was no help as we ladies fumbled for our reading glasses. From the four rocking chairs we moved the game to the brighter-lighted big beds, serenaded loudly by the unmistakable coqui frogs into the night.

Before Leigh had shown us the supply of bottled drinking water, I took some meds with water from the tap, to her obvious concern. “It’s okay, isn’t it?” I asked. She said she never thought to tell us city folk. At that elevation she’s on rain catchment. “I don’t know,” she replied still concerned, “I’ve just always drunk bottled water. I’m sure it’s okay, it must be okay.” Did she brush her teeth with it? “No.” Not knowing what to do, in sympathy she filled a tumbler half full of tap water and downed it. That’s my friend Leigh.

The after-breakfast routine is to greet and feed all the animals and gather more eggs. That takes some time on Tofu Acres. It’s a bright and sunny morning. Smiley has emerged respectfully from his house trailer parked recently in Leigh’s driveway, announcing he’s washed the dogs and picked up some supplies.

He’s assembled a potting shelter down the way, and this morning he’s tending systematically to new tomato seedlings. He’s a kind, sweet man, a wonderful friend who appears when you need him the most. Leigh told us that when Diana died, Smiley prepared the land for Diana’s crypt in the pouring rain (you’re allowed to be buried at home with the proper permits). When some lōlō showed up with Leigh’s car after it disappeared for a few days, Smiley was there to greet it and advised Leigh to call the cops.

As the poignant story unfolds, we learn from Leigh that Smiley’s wife is ill, and that he and their son take turns caring for her. Smiley comes to Tofu Acres for respite.

Before heading out for the day to explore some property, to go shopping, and to visit the Hawaii Volcanoes National Park where we bought our senior passes for life—yay, age has its privileges!—we went to see where Diana rests peacefully in a lovely setting.

 . . . Of course we roomies know the next chapter of the story, even though dear Leigh doesn’t.

True friendship is clairvoyant. Cultivate your friendship like a garden and hold it close to your heart. Be kind and take care of each other, the animals, and the land, for we are One.

Roomies at Halemaumau. I didn’t get the red-sandals memo.

Copyright 2013 Rebekah Luke

Kudos and thanks to my foodie friends Linda and Lori

Two women I am lucky to have as friends each reached a milestone in their lives and careers in the past few days, and today’s post honors them. Both happen to be foodies. Both have Hakka “blood,” as do I.

Author Linda Lau Anusasananan’s The Hakka Cookbook received the Best Chinese Cuisine Cookbook in the World for 2012 award at the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards ceremony in Paris. It’s a crowning achievement following a full career as a food editor at Sunset magazine, where we met, and many years researching around the world the “cuisine” (if you can call it that) of her ancestral Hakka roots.

Linda Lau Anusasananan

Hakka Chinese people descend from Han people who emigrated and still emigrate from their original land for a variety of reasons. Where they ended up in the world—in China it was mostly in the south in an area known as Meixian—they were not the first, therefore were known as “guest people” who did not get the best land. They were farmers, and their food was humble and of peasants. The book’s subtitle “Soul Food from Around the World” announces the good eats the reader can learn to make from the recipes Linda tested and fine tuned for the home cook. I guarantee they will work for you.

This is what Hakka families everywhere have looked for. The recipes show how regional cuisine influences basic Hakka food. Linda’s work fills a cultural need as well as explains what “Hakka” is with added stories and historical notes. Ultimately, it is a universal story about food, families everywhere, and how the world has gotten smaller.

Lori A. Wong

When I left the magazine test kitchens in Menlo Park, California, those many years ago, Linda became the person I would call when I had a question about food science. Then I met Lori on my island.

This week Lori A. Wong, with her mother Marian, closed Byron’s Drive-In, the last remaining of their 17 or 18—it’s easy to lose count—restaurants on Oahu, ending 58 years of feeding islanders. Old-timers will remember Leon’s tavern, Andy’s Drive-In in Kailua, Orson’s Restaurant, Orson’s Bourbon House, Wong’s Okazu-ya, The Chowder House, Byron II, Andrew’s, Coral Reef, The Chinese Chuckwagon, Fishmonger’s Wife, Oinks, Big Ed’s, Andy’s Ebb Tide, The Little Red Hen, Henny Penny Chicken, Orson’s Chowderette, and The Seafood Emporium.

The landlord is planning to redevelop the land near Honolulu airport where you could get a good meal before boarding your plane. On Feb. 28 it was bye-bye Byron’s Drive-In. The rummage sale starts tomorrow, March 5, through Friday in the parking lot. Everything must go.

Now that you know of the Wong Family restaurant empire, and as you read the list above, most started by Lori’s father Andy Y. Y. Wong who died in 1985, and others by Lori and her mom, you are probably thinking, “They owned that restaurant, too?!”

Yup, and Lori’s first thought is that they had a really good run and that the restaurant business is pau (finished, over).

I became acquainted with Lori through our mutual Reiki teacher and friend Alice Anne Parker. Both Lori and Alice Anne certified me as a Reiki Master. Lori is a healer and was working with hospice patients. Over time I figured out Lori was a foodie. She’s taught in the Food Service department at Kapiolani Community College and now teaches cooking to middle school students at Punahou during the summer. She free lances as a food and beverage consultant.

She loves to try new restaurants with friends—as does Linda (the more dishes foodies can taste and disect, the better; lucky for me), but she rarely mentioned her family’s restaurant empire. But now that it seems to have ended, the word’s out. Bob Sigall wrote a nice column in the Honolulu Star-Advertiser.

Both Linda and Lori deserve a crown and a long rest, but I doubt they will rest on their laurels. These are my friends for a lifetime.

Copyright 2013 Rebekah Luke

The feeling of a red-letter day

When I have a red-letter day, like Saturday was, I try to try to savor and remember the feeling. It’s sweet incentive for living and loving life to the fullest. Then I may be open to welcome the next time. Because the feeling is amazing.

To that end, I’ve decided to turn over another leaf by resisting the urge first thing in the morning to reach for an electronic device to see what happened overnight while I was sleeping. I will wait until after I practice tai chi—currently the saber set, breakfast without the TV news or the sound of a ball game, and a walk with the dogs on the beach. I will eat healthy foods, exercise, and meditate.

Saturday began with three neighborhood girls and one boy arriving at the studio at 8 a.m. for their first art class with Aunty Rebekah. I am offering the same basics to youth as to my adult Bucket List painting students: ball, cube, cylinder, and cone. The kids were great and kept me on my toes. It was nice to have 10-year-old-boy energy in the studio.

His mother wondered if perhaps he wouldn’t like the class if he was the only boy. For the exercise of drawing a ball, Jefferson filled a balloon with water and inflated it. Of course, the balloon eventually popped, but we agreed beforehand he would have to clean it up. I think he likes the girls.

A couple of the kids hadn’t eaten breakfast, so I’m glad I had two oranges in the set. When I cut them into slices to show ellipses, their eyes grew wide with appetite, and we all had a refreshing snack. The dogs Alice Brown and Pua were in heaven during recess with all the attention. Later, to get the kids to finish their drawings, I brought out some cones—sugar cones that DH thoughtfully bought when he saw me searching for a cone shape for the lesson—and a carton of ice cream.

“What is this?” I asked. They shouted, “Cone!” “And what is this?” I followed, scooping out vanilla. “Ball!”  Mission accomplished.

Then I went to play at the annual Punahou Carnival. It’s the famous fund-raising event of my alma mater where I perform with the Punahou Alumni Glee Club, sometimes provide paintings for the Art Gallery, and work in a booth with my classmates. Punahou School is super organized and makes money for the student financial aid program—how my parents could afford Punahou for me—by getting the junior class, their parents, and the alumni to donate goods and volunteer their labor.

I adore the camaraderie of the glee club, not to mention the chance to sing and dance. We rehearse weekly, and our director is skillful at getting our choir to peak for our performances. We sounded good and had an enjoyable time with the music.

The Class of ’67 . . . what can I say, except that we are tight. For example, Christine flew in from Arizona just to help serve laulaus for 3 hours. Every year we rendezvous at the Carnival to see each other briefly, hear our classmate Henry Kapono Kaaihue entertain in the cafeteria, and then go our separate ways again. It’s so nice to see everyone.

That would have been plenty, but the surprising joy of the day was the sale of my paintings by the Art Gallery! It was exciting! I painted the scene of the Ko‘olau Mountains from the spot where I go often with my painting group. It began on a spectacular clear day with hardly any clouds to hide the top ridge. The panorama was breathtaking, and I decided to turn it into a diptych of two horizontal paintings side by side.

“Lanihuli Diptych” is my most recent art work. I didn’t plan on taking anything to the Carnival because I’d not been successful in sales any previous years there. But my glee sister Tamson Fox, a full-time fine artist, reminded me in January the event was coming up. I’m so grateful to her for changing my mind.

Still giddy with delight and with my new earnings burning a hole in my pocket, I headed to the Diamond Head end of the midway and bought myself a present—a bling-y Pāʻani top with a night-blooming cereus flower.

DH and I hung out to catch my cousin Sunway’s performance with her band before it was time to go home. We negotiated with the “O” men in the produce tent over the script price for the avocados. They let us keep enough to buy one malasada doughnut each for the ride home. Yummy sugary goodness. Never mind the resolution to eat healthy. I’m celebrating!

It was the perfect ending to my amazing red-letter day.

Me and my glee sisters perform at the Carnival. (Photo by Joyce Pavlis)

Members of the Class of 1967 in a publicity shot with classmate and music recording artist Henry Kapono Kaaihue. Which one looks like the star? (Photo courtesy of Carlyn Tani, Punahou Bulletin)

Lanihuli Diptych, left panel, sold!

Lanihuli Diptych, right panel, sold!

Copyright 2013 Rebekah Luke

Wake up to a Dutch Baby

New Year’s Day breakfast: Instead of finishing the Dutch Baby with lemon and a dusting of powdered sugar, I chose fresh calamansi wedges to squeeze and maple syrup.

I awoke to a rainy morning and decided to surprise the rest of the family with a Dutch Baby German Pancake for our first breakfast of the New Year. While they were asleep it baked and rose in a large cast iron frying pan. When Miss Marvelous’s mom was a youngster and lived with us, the call of “Dutch Baby!” would roust her out of bed. She liked to watch through the oven door window how it rose into an interesting shape. Not only fun to watch, but fun to eat, too!

The recipe is traditional and most likely public knowledge. I see variations of it from time to time. The one I use always works. I think I got it from an old friend, reporter Bob Jones, who got it from Carl A. Lindquist (I like to give credit where credit’s due). The only thing I changed this morning were the toppings. See top photo.

DUTCH BABY GERMAN PANCAKE
Preheat oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit.
In a large bowl beat 3 eggs until blended.
Measure 1/2 cup flour. Sift, measure 1/2 cup again (discard any excess), sift again with 1/2 teaspoon salt.
Add flour to eggs in 4 additions, beating after each addition until smooth.
Add 1/2 cup milk in 2 additions.
Lightly beat in 2 tablespoons melted butter.
Generously butter bottom and sides of a 9- or 10-inch unheated cast iron frying pan.
Pour batter into pan.
Bake at 450 degrees Fahrenheit for 20 minutes.
Reduce heat to 350 degrees and bake 10 minutes more. Slip onto a serving plate.
Dust with powdered sugar. Serve with lemon or lime wedges.

Out of the oven, the pancake has pulled away from the pan. Just loosen the sides with a knife and slip onto a serving plate.

Copyright 2013 Rebekah Luke

Catching up with Popo

Before heading off to Italy in October, I purposely held off making plans for after I came back. I thought I would take my time picking up where I left off or starting any new projects in Hawaii. I wanted to be available and present. As it turns out, being open and alert, there’s plenty to do!

I’ve gotten to catch up with my Painting II students and plant the seed of going to Italy, renting a villa, and painting in Tuscany next summer. They’re interested! I learned I need to tack on a make-up day to review the curriculum from the semester. It’s challenging now that holiday activities are filling up the calendar, but we’re doing our best together.

DH and I were unable to schedule the installation of the new wall-to-wall carpet we ordered before we went to Europe. But it went in yesterday to replace the 27-year-old stuff. It was a good reason to pass up shopping the day after Thanksgiving, as we were busy clearing the space for the installer (Kenneth of State Drapery who has been installing carpet for 40 years) who worked alone. It took six hours, and the new carpeting looks and feels great. I just need to clear the studio—to where we moved all the furniture to accommodate the carpet installation—before the next painting class.

I’ve resumed my going to tai chi class and the alumni glee club rehearsals. I enjoy that.

Most importantly, I’m blessed to be able to spend time with my hanai mom, who is recuperating from surgery. This Thanksgiving all the adult kids (my hanai brothers and sisters), except Ruth, for various reasons remarkably weren’t here! Even DH and I stayed at our own home. Holidays have always been important to Mom. You can’t tell, but she’s 84 now, has failing eyesight, and a big house to maintain. She still works outside the home in the community. Her surgery was successful. Before long she will be up and about as usual.

I found out Mom is going to spend Christmas with eldest son David and Cherie and family this year. That’s good! Meanwhile, Ruth has accepted my proposal to give her some relief with the care giving, and I’m happy and privileged to keep Mom happy!

Copyright 2012 Rebekah Luke

Faithful Pua

Pua’s a sweet dog. She always greets us. She comes when called. She minds when we say, “Go to your place,” unlike Alice Brown, who is, shall we say, spoiled. Today’s entry is dedicated to Pua. Miss Marvelous always asks to see Pua over Skype, so I made these photos yesterday and sent the prints off to her in Italy so she can always see her canine friend. DH takes Pua for a walk at least once a day. At Kalaeokaoio park she loves to run and dig crabs out of the sand.

Pua at Kalaeokaoio

Waiting

Copyright 2012 Rebekah Luke