
Chef Makoa
Faikai Ika (Tuvaluan Baked Tuna in Coconut)
Tuvalu's faikai ika bakes fresh tuna in coconut cream until the fish flakes soft and drinks the nut in, lagoon catch and palm brought together on one low coral island plate.
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Tuvaluan pulaka, giant swamp taro hauled from coral pits, boiled until its bite softens, then eaten with lolo, coconut cream, fish, or whatever the kaiga, the family, has that day.
The elder brother looks different when the land is only coral. In Tuvalu, pulaka, giant swamp taro, is not the little corm my hands pound into paʻiʻai, the thick hand-pounded stage before poi, back home in Hawaiʻi. This root is big and stubborn, hauled from pits dug down through coral to the fresh water under the island. The fenua, the island land, is thin. The ocean is close on every side. So when boiled pulaka lands on the pandanus mat with fish and lolo, coconut cream, that is not just a side dish. That is the kaiga, the family, feeding itself from ground it has fought to keep sweet.
Tokelau keeps its own pulaka pits too, its own elders and its own table, and I name that separate because no need smear the cousins together. Across the Triangle the root changes its face: Sāmoan talo, Tongan talo, Cook Islands taro, Hawaiian kalo, and this Tuvaluan pulaka from the coral-soil world. One ocean, one canoe, one root, but every island has its own hand.
The method is plain because the food is deep. Peel it, cut it heavy, boil it long. Raw or undercooked pulaka can bite the throat, so you give it time until the knife slides through and the center has no chalky fight left. No blame the taro. It is not the taro's fault if you rushed it.
I cook this one open-handed, because Tuvalu is not my home seat. For the family stories, the pit work, the old rules around whose pulaka gets lifted and when, go sit with Tuvaluan people and listen. In your kitchen, keep it honest: boiled pulaka, a little salt, coconut cream if you have it, fish if the sea gave it, corned beef and rice if that is what came off the barge this week. Eat what you have, but remember what feeds the island from its own ground.
On Tuvalu's low coral islands, pulaka (Cyrtosperma merkusii) is grown in pits dug through coral into the freshwater lens, a hard answer to land with almost no soil; Tokelau keeps its own pulaka pits too, with its own elders and table. As sea level rise and saltwater intrusion turn those pits saline, a food that once anchored kaiga, family, is pushed toward rice and tinned meat from the barge. The deep food line here is not nostalgia: boiled pulaka with fish and lolo, coconut cream, is food sovereignty in a place where the ocean is both larder and threat.
Pulaka is giant swamp taro, the staple root crop of Tuvalu, grown in pits dug down through coral rock to the fresh-water lens. Far larger and denser than common taro, it is boiled long until tender and served with lolo (coconut cream) or fish as the foundation of a Tuvaluan meal.
Quantity
4 pounds
scrubbed, or about 3 pounds peeled
Quantity
enough to cover by 2 inches
Quantity
2 teaspoons
plus more to taste
Quantity
1 cup
or thick canned coconut cream
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| fresh pulaka (giant swamp taro) cormscrubbed, or about 3 pounds peeled | 4 pounds |
| water | enough to cover by 2 inches |
| sea saltplus more to taste | 2 teaspoons |
| fresh coconut cream (lolo)or thick canned coconut cream | 1 cup |
| banana leaf or taro leaf (optional) | for serving |
Scrub the pulaka clean under running water, then peel away the thick outer skin and any bruised or woody spots. If raw aroids make your hands itch, wear gloves. Pulaka is kin, but kin can still be sharp before the fire has done its work.
Cut the peeled pulaka into heavy 2 to 3 inch chunks, keeping the pieces close in size so they soften together. Rinse them in cool water until the water is less cloudy, then set the chunks in the pot. They should feel dense in the hand, more like a stone from the pit than a quick vegetable.
Cover the pulaka with fresh water by about 2 inches and add the sea salt. Bring it to a strong boil, then lower to a steady simmer and cover the pot slightly ajar. Cook 2 to 2 1/2 hours, adding hot water if the level drops below the root. The smell should be earthy and clean, and the edges will begin to soften before the middle gives in.
Push a skewer or thin knife into the thickest piece. It should slide through without hitting a chalky core, and a small taste should feel dense and tender, not scratchy in the throat. If it bites back, drain, cover with fresh water, and simmer another 20 to 30 minutes. No shortcuts here. The long cooking is what makes it safe and good.
Drain off the cooking water and let the pulaka sit in the warm pot for 5 minutes so the surface dries a little. Taste and season with a little more salt if it wants it. Good boiled pulaka is not fluffy like potato. It is firm, creamy, and heavy, the kind of food that keeps a body working.
Warm the lolo, coconut cream, gently with a pinch of salt, just until glossy and pourable. Spoon it over the pulaka or serve it alongside so each person can take what they like. Lay the chunks on banana leaf or taro leaf if you have it, and put it on the table with fish, coconut, rice, or corned beef. Deep food and everyday food can sit together. That is how people actually eat.
1 serving (about 245g)
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