Gristly

Multi-cultural, plate-lunch experience at Aloha Hawaiian Barbecue in Salinas

When it comes to dining, most Hawaiian tourists never venture far beyond the beach resort.
Rarely do visitors experience the more typical blue-collar food of the Aloha State, specifically, Hawaiian barbecue, a smorgasbord of cuisines thrown together to create what is affectionately called "the plate lunch."
The origin of the plate lunch dates back to the late 1800s, when Hawaii's economy hinged on the labor-intensive plantation agricultural system. Workers from around the world (including Japan, China, Korea, the Philippines and Portugal) emigrated to toil in the sugar cane and pineapple fields. Each ethnic group brought its own cuisine, and eventually the different items became "mixed together" to create one multicultural "plate."
The plate lunch is still a huge part of local culture in Hawaii and, over the last decade or so, it has spread to the western United States through fast-food franchises such as Aloha Hawaiian Barbecue (the Salinas joint is owned by Juliang and Joan He).
Patterned after the grandfather of these franchises, L&L Hawaiian Barbecue (which started in 1976 in Honolulu), Aloha Hawaiian Barbecue provides generous portions of an entrée (such as chicken, pork, beef, fish or, yes, Spam -- that infamous canned meat mélange made by Hormel), along with the starchy sides of macaroni salad and sticky rice.
Aloha Hawaiian Barbecue says hello to all these traditions (including the Spam) and goodbye to high prices seen at American-style barbecue joints. Here, for example, a Hawaiian BBQ Mix -- chicken, beef and short ribs (along with the customary ice cream scoopful of macaroni salad and rice) -- will set you back only $6.95.
For sheer variety, one can order American (hamburgers, French fries and onion rings), Japanese (chicken katsu), Korean (kim chee) and the uniquely Hawaiian sushi called Spam musubi.
HE SAID
Hawaiians have a love affair with Spam. They treat this prehistoric pressed pork product as a delicacy (according to Hormel, the average Hawaiian eats a whopping 12 cans a year).
So there's no way I'm leaving Aloha Hawaiian Barbecue without trying Spam sushi (a rite of passage for island newcomers anxious to attain "local" status).
I hated it, to be honest, but this conversation piece is worth well more than the $1.39 price tag. And this fun-funky place warrants a visit because the food is so over the top it creates the most subjective of dining experiences. In short, you have to try it for yourself.
There are 38 menu items, almost all of them involving meat and/or starch. Approaching the counter with caution, I finally selected the barbecue mix, along with the screwy sushi. I laughed as a normally squeamish Melissa brazenly ordered something called Loco Moco.
Almost before we could collect our plastic ware and napkins, the food arrived -- tucked inside clamshell takeout boxes; another giggle, followed by a dual guffaw when I opened the Spam box. There it was, a greasy slab of Spam the size and shape of a bar of soap (yet somehow a different smell), wrapped up like a present with a wide seaweed ribbon. We discovered later that it's made with a special kitchen gadget known as the Spam Musubi Maker (hmmm, stocking stuffer perhaps?)
I dived in, chewing in time to the dulcet tones of Don Ho -- and the result was mixed. The powerful Spam overpowered the sushi, and it was just too bizarre to take seriously. The barbecued chicken (boneless thigh meat pounded flat) came seared after marinating in a sweet and savory teriyak-style sauce. It was quite good. The short ribs, cut ultra-thin, lengthwise, were tough and gristly, and the thin slices of marinated beef were tender, but fatty.
A mixed bag, but a hoot nonetheless. Just have your cardiologist on speed dial.
SHE SAID
Perhaps due to my dad's stint in the military, our kitchen pantry was stocked with Spam. Mainly, I remember eating Spam sliced on Roman Meal bread with mustard and lettuce. The moment I grew old enough to object, I permanently placed Spam on my list of foodstuffs "never to be eaten ever again in my entire life" -- until prompted, by the brand of curiosity that makes one gawk at train wrecks -- by the menu at Aloha Hawaiian Barbecue.
I have to give this quirky little joint points for finding a truly unique niche. Aloha holds to a standard. Here we have food readily recognized by island locals as the real thing, delivering the unadulterated savory comforts of home.
A Styrofoam container of Japanese-style barbecued chicken noodle soup (chicken katsu saimin) consists of ramen-like noodles (except these are made with eggs) and glazed dark chicken meat in a rich broth seasoned with green onion and sweet teriyaki flavors ($3.28). This soup is reminiscent of, but much heartier than, Vietnamese noodle soups. I don't know what got into me, but I couldn't resist the Loco Moco ($5.95) -- two hamburger patties on rice, smothered with meat gravy and topped with two fried eggs -- a regional dish with legions of fans. A side of macaroni salad with tuna makes for a study in overkill.
The patties were of the thin, mealy Salisbury steak variety (and, in another bizarre flashback, reminiscent of those old Swanson TV dinners).
While I have to admit this dinner would wash down a lot better with a strong tropical cocktail, a variety of Hawaiian Sun juices are available. And an ice cream case beckons with exotic flavors such as green tea, mango and lychee nut (probably far less fattening than what we'd just consumed). As we ate, a steady clientele of Pacific islanders wandered in for some takeout. As my dad would say, the proof is in the pudding -- or, in this case, the Spam.

Source:
http://www.montereyherald.com/mld/montereyherald/living/food/14768302.htm

posted by Parasang @ 9:55 PM