Is this heaven? No, it’s Hawaii. Contributing writer Mary Jane Miller explores fields far from her Indianola home, including this coffee orchard at Greenwell Farms. Photo: Courtesy Greenwell Farms
Writer: Mary Jane Miller
Forget sugarplums. When the snow is blowing and the Iowa landscape turns bleak, my thoughts turn to a tropical paradise. My cousin Greg owns a farm on the Big Island of Hawaii, and in early 2023, my daughter Rachel and I finally took him up on his invitation to visit.
We landed in Kona after dark, stepping into warm, fragrant air and made our way to the modern farmhouse where Greg lives with his wife, Jackie. It sits high on the slope of Mauna Loa, surrounded by citrus, avocado and banana trees.
Farm life here has a full-time rhythm just like in Iowa: early to bed, early to rise and plenty of good food in between.
A TASTE OF THE ISLAND
Mornings began quietly on the lanai with strong Kona coffee, eggs from wild chickens, toast spread with avocado and a bowl of oranges from the yard.
Our first outing took us to Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park for lunch overlooking the smoking Kīlauea crater. I tried the classic Kalua pork — so much like Iowa’s smoked pulled pork — served with rice and a scoop of potato-macaroni salad that could have come from any Midwest potluck. Later, at Punalu‘u’s black-sand beach, sea turtles basked on the shore while waves pounded against lava rock.
Along the Kona coast, we toured Greenwell Farms, where farmers have grown coffee for more than 170 years. I tasted peppercorns fresh from the vine and sampled three distinct coffees during a cupping — each one floral, fruity or buttery in turn. Lunch followed at Da Poke Shack, where the line moved fast and the fish was impossibly fresh. My favorite: ahi tuna with miso, honey and roasted seaweed.
My friend Trish, who works for the Puna Chocolate Company, met us in Hilo for lunch at Café 100, the birthplace of loco moco — a hamburger patty on rice, smothered in mushroom gravy and topped with a fried egg. It’s comfort food, island style.
The loco moco is a comfort-food classic: a fried egg atop gravy-slathered rice.
Trish took us sightseeing, then sent us up the mountain to tour her company’s cacao farm. We walked through the orchard tasting tart, citrusy cacao pulp straight from the pods before seeing how beans are fermented and turned into chocolate. We sampled five chocolates and sipped refreshing cacao juice — light, tropical and faintly floral.
On Hawaii’s Big Island, cacao farmers harvest cacao pods filled with beans that become chocolate. Photo: Heather Goodman / Hawaii Tourism Authority
FARMS, FOOD AND FAMILY
A visit to Manadina Farm revealed the lush chaos of a permaculture “food forest,” where 180 kinds of fruits and vegetables thrive under towering trees. Lunch from their food truck — purslane salad, chayote fries and creamy kabocha soup with coconut milk and macadamia chili crisp — was unforgettable.
We indulged at the Punalu‘u Bake Shop, famous for island pastries, and cooled off with the best shaved ice imaginable: vanilla ice cream topped with snow-fine ice, mango and passion-fruit syrup, and a drizzle of sweetened condensed milk. Between farm tours, beaches and small-town bakeries, Hawaii’s flavors amazed me with their freshness and simplicity.
Portuguese immigrants introduced sugary malasadas to Hawaii in the 1870s. Today, the Punalu’u Bake Shop fills them with custard and local fruit.
Back at Greg’s farm, I helped harvest bananas while he talked about the challenges of macadamia farming. Later, Rachel returned from the market with fresh ahi, and I made dinner: poke tossed with soy, sesame oil and avocado, followed by seared tuna, rosy in the center.
The fish in a Hawaiian poke bowl is as fresh as it comes, dressed up with poi, watermelon radishes, tomatoes and other colorful add-ins. Photo: Heather Goodman / Hawaii Tourism Authority
On our final day, Greg drove us to Ka Lae, the southernmost point in the United States. We stood on the cliffs where the wind is fierce and the ocean seems endless. Antarctica lies more than 7,000 miles straight south, with nothing but water between.
That night, we toasted with cold Kona beer at Kai Loki’s, the country’s southernmost restaurant and bar. The next morning, we packed our swimsuits after one last dip at Manini‘owali Beach, its white sand and turquoise water shimmering against the black lava rock.
Hawaii’s beauty fed my spirit, but its food and farmers fed my heart.
Contributing writer Mary Jane Miller of Indianola has worked as a food writer, chef, cooking teacher and food scientist for various clients, including Betty Crocker, the Food Network, Pillsbury, Target and the Minnesota Governor’s Residence.
