Hale Moana 
and 
Hale Samoa
at
Kona Village
The Big Island
Hawaii

I’m not sure how we got on the subject of Caesar salads, but I’m glad we did. Sitting on a log looking at Kona Village’s lu’au pit, Chef Glen Alos and I jump from roasting pigs to marinating ducks. He marinates the duck in a five spice powder, ginger, garlic and hot pepper sauce, roasts it till it’s falling apart, then crisps the pieces for one of his Caesars. Another day, he might cold-smoke a chicken in a brown sugar brine and then crisps the pieces in a skillet, or sear Cajun-spiced scallops. "The trick to enhancing a Caesar," Glen says, "is an intense flavor and a crispy finish."

Glen’s creativity is showing just like it does in his menus where he blends the cuisines of the peoples of Hawaii. "We’ve been mixing the cooking styles of the Pacific Rim for a long time here, because of our own blend of cultures," Glen explains. Glen’s dark-haired, deeply tanned and good-looking face reveals some of the islands mix of cultures—Old Hawaiian, Japanese or Chinese, maybe some Portuguese? Glen is in charge of the meals, an exceptionally important position at Kona Village where all of them are included in the rate. Nevertheless, between the varied dining venues and Glen’s creativity I’m always hungry for the next one.

The Village’s striking thatch-roofed Hale Moana is one of two oceanfront restaurants. It‘s the informal spot for breakfast and dinner. Breakfast tempts with items like Mac-nut pancakes, sweet Portuguese bread French toast with coconut syrup and smoked Norwegian salmon with eggs. 100% real Kona coffee kick starts each day. In the evening, the menu rotates but is always strong on fresh island fish. Glen says that fish is by far the most-ordered dish, although herb-macadamia-crusted rack of lamb gives the grilled mahi-mahi a run for second, not to mention the Black Angus Porterhouse Steak served with Maui onion rings.

Lunch is by the beach, of course. It’s served buffet with shaded tables to keep the sand-in-the-food factor at bay. Myself, I head straight to the dessert table to find out the day’s ice cream flavor—chocolate coconut? mango?—and see if there is any Chocolate Truffle Torte on the dessert table. Then I choose lunch. If I score a favored dessert, then it’s back to the salads to try one of those Caesars with the lush baby romaine. Next, I try the cold gazpacho, and some oysters or Ahi sushi with just a small handful of those divine taro chips, but skipping the guacamole. If, I feel I can manage a pass on dessert, I get the guacamole and then check out the hot dishes—some of long standing Village tradition like the Paniolo (Hawaiian cowboy) beans and BBQ ribs. It’s also easy to get talked into a little something cooked to order from the grill like a burger or fresh sea bass.

Friday night is lu’au night. The mesquite fire is started at nine Friday morning in the imu, the Hawaiian cooking pit which is off in its own cove. The fire heats ocean-worn lava stones. "The stones need to be dried for months before they are used or they will explode in the fire," Glen mentions. Shredded banana plants and ti leaves cover the stones creating a bed for the pig and steam to help cook it. Twenty or so stones are put in the pig so it will also cook from the inside. Then wet burlap bags and a big mound of sand and soil cover the pig. By 5:30, the pig is ready, the unveiling takes place and the lu’au begins, not to end until the last Hawaiian chant fades away.

Glen’s pièce de résistance, however, is dinner at the torch-lit Hale Samoa where a warm tropical breeze sets the palms and table cloths dancing in concert with the piano player. Here, five evenings a week, the Village puts on the ritz—and we guests put on our best aloha shirts, m’uu m’uu and sandals.

Nibbling on the soft and just-a-little-sweet Portuguese bread dapped with goose liver-truffle pâté, I wonder how to do justice to this menu. My waiter, Daryl, gives me a quick course in Hawaiian fish: mahi mahi is a lean dolphinfish (not the mammal,) ahi is yellowfin or bigeye tuna and `Ôpakapaka is pink snapper. He calls their abalone "the veal of fish" and when I protest, he explains this is Big Island farmed abalone and is harvested young. Daryl brings me some abalone shells all polished-up with my first course, the Thai Seafood Salad. Pink shrimp, red and white lobster and shreds of orange mango sit on an array of baby lettuces from pale green to beet red. A spicy-vinegary brew herby with Thai basil counterpoints the slight sweetness of the shellfish.

Unable to make a decision between the Indonesian Lobster Tail and the Rack of Lamb, Daryl suggests half and half. The Hawaiian spiny lobster tail comes with both drawn butter and Indonesian peanut sauce with a kick. The lobster is tender and sweet, the sauce kicks spicily. The banana fritter consort is warm and creamy inside, coconut-crispy outside. The succulent spring lamb, all the way from a special farm in Colorado, is enriched by a red wine and Maui onion reduction.

A whole sampler of sweet things arrives for dessert. Honey-nutty layers amongst papery-thin pastry create a sweet macadamia nut baklava. A small crock of creamy tapioca is spilling over with tropical fruits and a fuchsia orchid. The chocolate truffle torte is deep in dense dark chocolate and macadamia nuts. The 100% real Kona coffee makes for mellow espresso and a fine finish.

When I get home, I plan to put Glen’s coaching to use. I expect I’ll leave the whole roasted pig to him, but you can bet I’m going to put some seared Cajun-spiced scallops on my next party Caesar.

           By Kate Crawford  May 2002

LINKS WITH ATTITUDE

A Hale Samoa Menu.

The article on Kona Village

Here's Kona Village's web site.