Poi ʻAwaʻawa (Hawaiian Sour Poi)

Hāloa is our elder brother, and sometimes he teaches after everybody thinks the work is pau, finished. In Hawaiʻi, poi ʻawaʻawa means sour poi, fresh poi left a few days until the kalo keeps working and turns tangy, clean, alive in the bowl. My kumu used to look at people funny when they called sour poi spoiled. Spoiled? No. That's the relative still talking.

Fresh poi is not dead food. You steamed the kalo until its bite went soft, pounded it on the papa kuʻi ʻai, the poi-pounding board, or bought it from somebody who did that work, and now you give it time. Clean bowl, loose cover, a little water when it tightens, and patience. The sourness should come gentle first, then brighter, never rotten. That's the why under the method: you're tending fermentation, not neglecting leftovers.

This bowl belongs to Hawaiʻi. Across the Triangle the cousins keep their own pounded starches, Marquesan popoi, Tahitian poʻe, breadfruit and taro worked under their own names and hands. I no blur them together. Same root, different bowls. One ocean, one canoe, one root.

Eat poi ʻawaʻawa with the deep foods, sure, kālua puaʻa, laulau, poke with limu and ʻinamona. But don't make it precious. Sour poi sits just fine beside fried fish, rice, eggs, Spam, chili pepper water, whatever get. Keeper, not gatekeeper. The old food has to live in today's kitchen too.