My First Tsunami

This topic doesn’t really fit into any of my eat, sing, or ride categories, but it’s not every day you get to witness a tsunami live, so I’m going to report on it anyway.

At six a.m. this morning, I was awakened by a piercing siren. Then, within seconds, every dog in the neighborhood started to howl and bark, creating a terrific cacophony. I had not slept terribly well, as I was on the floor in the Palm Room, having given up my room for the night for our visiting friends Casey and Bill. (We were supposed to go on a bird-watching hike today, but as you can surmise, it was cancelled.)

I guess I knew it was the tsunami warning going off; I was aware of the big earthquake in Chile the previous evening, and knew that tsunamis would be a likely result. Nevertheless, after the noise subsided, I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Two minutes later the siren went off again. That’s it, I said, and got out of bed. I walked outside onto the front porch, and was greeted by this glorious sunrise:


Casey came out and joined me. Yes, she confirmed, that was the civil defense siren. We looked at each other. Wow. She and Bill have been on the Big Island for 22 years, and this was the first tsunami warning (as opposed to an advisory) they’d ever experienced.

I came back inside an logged onto my computer. There was Robin, sending me a chat note on Skype. “Tsunami!”

“I bet you’re bummed you’re not here,” I wrote back. Damn straight; Robin is fascinated with natural disasters, and tsunamis are her favorite kind. She’s always wanted to witness one, up close and personal.

“Better make sure you have candles. And water,” she wrote. They were predicting waves between 10 and 15 feet; best to be prepared for the worst. We had lots of candles. I made a bunch of ice, and then filled 12 bottles with water:


(These are the bottles we save to take water out to our palm grove in Kaimu; there’ll be a post about that one of these days.)

Just to be on the safe side, I filled the tub, too:


Then all we could do was wait. It was seven o’clock, and the first wave wasn’t due to hit until 11:05, local time.

Casey, Bill, and my folks, on our front porch

It was going to be a beautiful day. Here’s the view at nine a.m. from our porch; you can see that we have a bit of an ocean view.


My Facebook friends were writing up a storm, wishing me the best, and I was reassuring them that our house is well out of any danger zone from tsunamis. But I was worried about quaint little Hilo Town.

Hilo has suffered two major tsunamis in recent history: in 1946, and in 1960. The one in 1946 struck without warning, and the fact that it occurred on April 1st—which caused many folks to believe the warnings were merely an April Fool’s joke—made it all the worse. It killed 159 people in Hilo and in Laupahoehoe, up the coast. The one in 1960 killed 61 people (see short history of Hawai‘i tsunamis here).

Each of those two tsunamis knocked down the row of buildings nearest the bay, which were not replaced. Thus, the downtown has gradually moved inland. Today, we were all worried about the current bayfront street: Kamehameha Avenue. Would it suffer the same fate as its predecessors in 1946 and 1960?

By ten o’clock, the neighbors were all outside, eyes turned towards the sea:


Here’s a short video I made of the activity on our street this morning:



A little before eleven, we walked down toward town, to see if we could find a safe vantage point for the big event. We could only go so far before we hit cop cars keeping people on high ground. We were not alone:


About a half dozen helicopters were buzzing above us, and several coast guard planes.

surf’s up, dude!

(you can see two helicopters to the right of the church tower)

Notwithstanding the underlying worry for the businesses along Kam Avenue, a festive mood prevailed:

tsunami watchers with ukulele accompaniment

By eleven-thirty, we were all craning our necks trying to see if anything was happening, and consulting our watches impatiently. The good news, however, was that there were several whales splashing about beyond the breakwater, provided all of with a pleasant diversion as we scanned the bay with our binoculars.


Finally we were able to see something concrete: first a line of brown, muddy water, just in front of the breakwater. I overheard someone who was talking on her cell phone to someone in Florida who was watching CNN, say that this was the result of the sea receding. And then I saw a line of rocks that I had never seen before—obviously the result of this same great sea-suck.

the line of black rocks is not normally visible

We watched for another hour or so, and nothing much changed. Though I did see a long, but small wave moving towards shore that reminded me of the tidal bore Robin and I had seen in Alaska. And I could see the odd splash onto Coconut Island. But all-in-all, the sea looked pretty calm. And then I heard someone else say that the news casters were saying it was basically over. So we went home.

It’s funny, but I felt mixed about the whole thing. On one hand, I was disappointed that I didn’t get to see any fish flopping in the empty bay, or a swath of water coming up the street towards us. But I also was truly relieved that Hilo had been spared. (Obviously I’d pick the latter, had I the choice between the two possibilities.)

We’re going to Coconut Island tonight for cocktails. I read that sea water did wash over it, but I predict that we’ll find that it fared well.

Guess I’d better take a bath tomorrow; wouldn’t want to waste all that water.

Ola loa! (Which means “long life” in Hawai‘ian, and is our family toast at cocktail hour.)

A Volcano Cake

eat. My mother has a passion for lava and volcanoes. In fact, if it weren’t for her love of all things volcanic, I wouldn’t be here in Hilo right now. Robin and I likely wouldn’t have discovered the Big Island if my folks hadn’t been spending a lot of time here, and they wouldn’t have come back to Hilo time and again if it hadn’t been for my mom’s (and dad’s) love of lava. Hot, flowing lava. Like this:

for more on hot lava, go here

So when it came time for Mom to bake a birthday cake for some friends, she decided to make a volcano cake.

She made a yellow cake batter (using half the amount of eggs and liquid called for, so it would be a sturdy little volcanic cone), and poured it into three greased Pyrex bowls, which she determined would provide the correct shape for the cake.


Here’s how the layers looked just out of the oven:


Once cooled, she placed the bottom layer on a large plate,


and iced it with chocolate frosting, made with butter, powdered sugar and melted bittersweet chocolate.


Since the middle layer had deflated a tad, she decided to fill the sinkage (a condition with which we Karsts have somewhat of an affinity) with molten lava: in this case, ’ohelo berry preserves that she had made.

Mom picking ’ohelo berries

Once the sink-hole was filled with the preserves, Mom flipped the layer upside-down on top of the bottom layer,


and then iced that layer.


Finally, the top went on and was iced too:


Next, Mom decorated the volcano with white chocolate chips, spelling out the birthday celebrants’ names—just like the locals do with white coral on black lava along the Kohala coast (see here):


Now for the flowing lava outside the cake. First, Mom made a pit on top,


which she filled with ’ohelo preserves, and then she dribbled some down the side:


With the candles lit, the volcano really came to life.


And when the birthday folks cut into it, they discovered the magma chamber inside!


By the way, the cake was delicious. The lesser amounts of egg and liquid gave it the taste and texture of an old-fashioned cake: moist, but very cakey. (The top layer is still in our freezer—can’t wait!)

Breakfast on the Big Island

eat. My usual breakfast here is a couple cups of coffee, and perhaps an apple banana. But when we drive up the Hamakua coast to Waimea or Hapuna Beach, or to go over to the Kona side, we always stop in Honoka‘a at Tex Drive-In for malasadas (as well as a bathroom break).


Tex’s, as it’s known (no, I couldn’t find out online who Tex is/was) serves breakfast and lunch. Besides malasadas, it specializes in “local” food, which means a combination of Hawai‘ian, Filipino, American, Japanese, Portuguese, Korean, and Chinese. So the menu includes items such as loco moco, burgers, saimin, Korean chicken, meatloaf, and curry stew.

Mom and Dad ordering at the counter

But the star of the show are their malasadas, which are eggy, hole-less yeast donuts, deep-fried and then coated with sugar. Malasadas were brought to Hawai‘i in the late nineteenth century by the Portuguese, who came here to work on plantations. Given the locals’ love of anything sweet, they quickly became an island favorite.

I love them because of their egginess; kind of like a cruller, but even more eggy.

Mom digging in

We drove over to Kailua-Kona this past weekend, to spend a few days with a friend of my parents who used to teach with my dad at the Ohio State law school in the ’60s (he’s still there) and his wife. We stopped at Tex’s on the way up the coast Friday morning,

almost done

and then went to Hapuna Beach for a few hours, before heading down the Kohala coast (home to all the glitzy resorts) to Kona. (You have to go north, and then south to get to Kona from Hilo, to get around the massive dormant volcano, Mauna Kea—home to all those observatories. See map here.)

it’s almost always sunny at Hapuna

Saturday morning Larry and Ann took us out to eat at The Coffee Shack, in Captain Cook. Mom ordered the Papaya Special: half a papaya filled with fruit, lilikoi yogurt and freshly grated coconut, served with scrambled eggs with cheese, and a fresh pastry.


I had the French toast, made with luau bread (aka Portuguese sweet bread), which you can also see in the photo above.

The food was scrumptious (and, as is so often the case here, plentiful). But the biggest treat ended up being one of the other guests.

As I was photographing one of the just-vacated tables, trying to capture the magnificent view of Kealakekua Bay out the window (a tricky lighting situation), a waiter came up to clear the table.


Nodding to the windowsill, he motioned for me to approach it quietly. This is what I saw:

you can see its tongue in the jelly

Turns out that geckos love the taste of the guava jelly that the restaurant serves in little, individual packets. The staff (and sometimes patrons) have therefore taken to setting open containers of the jelly on the windowsills to attract them. If you look carefully, you can see the gecko in the picture of the table, above (click on it to enlarge it), before I noticed its presence.

So even the geckos have a sweet tooth in Hawai‘i.

Thanks to Larry and Ann for a terrific weekend!

Little Did I Dream

sing. That’s the title of my sister Laura Karst's brand new CD, a collection of eleven jazz tunes on which she sings the vocals.

the CD cover is one of Laura’s photos

The liner notes state: “Little Did I Dream is the album’s title track because its story perfectly describes how I unexpectedly fell in love again, this time with singing jazz.”

But it’s also how I (Leslie) feel, listening to this recording. Little did I dream that my baby sister would grow up to be such an accomplished singer. As I listened to the album last night with my folks, I was blown away by Laura’s talent: her phrasing, timing, vocal agility, and sensitivity to the nuance of the melody and lyric. (I blogged about Laura’s jazz singing last April, here.)

The CD’s selections run a wide gamut—from Great American Songbook standards such as “Nobody Else But Me” (from the Broadway musical Showboat), to the bossa nova “Desafinado,” to the haunting torch song “Turn Out the Stars.”

In addition, Laura—whose day gig is as a French instructor—performs the French popular song “Que reste-t-il de nos amours?” in its original language. And she also tackles the Jobim classic “Desafinado” in Brazilian Portuguese, a language she doesn’t speak, but sings like she’s done so all her life.

the back of the album

I must mention the band too, as they are terrific. Adam Shulman’s piano is on par with Bill Evans (one of whose tunes they perform), and saxophonist Jim Schneider’s solos are as tasty as tasty can be. I love Doug Pohorski’s bass on “Autumn Serenade,” where he provides a sultry backup to Laura’s poignant vocals. The combo is showcased on the title track, where the piano and drums trade fours, and the bass has a long solo.

Speaking of solos, Laura as two scat spots on the album, and her trumpet-like improv on “Everybody’s Song But My Own” reminds me of some of Chet Baker’s best scatting. (For a sneak-listen of the album, go to Laura’s MySpace page.)

Now here’s the good news: You can hear Laura perform all the songs on the album—plus others—live, this coming Sunday afternoon, when she hosts her CD Release Party in San Jose. Here are the details:

Laura’s CD Release Party and Concert
Sunday, February 21st
4:00-6:00 p.m.
admission free
(but do buy a CD!)

In the Lobby Lounge of the Fairmont San Jose
170 South Market Street
San Jose, California

Yes, the CD will be available for purchase at the concert. But if you can’t attend, you can still buy it, as it will soon be available on CD Baby, and is already available as a download here.

The bad news is that—being here in Hawai‘i and all—I won’t be able to be there for the concert. Wah!! But Robin is planning to Skype it for my parents and me, so if all goes well, we’ll be there via cyberspace. Stop by the computer and say hey!

And congrats, Laura. I am SO proud!!!

Kung Hee Fat Choy!

sing. Today marks the beginning of the Chinese new year, 2010 being the year of the tiger.

no tigers in sight, but a pink lion visited Hilo Town

There are a lot more Japanese than Chinese in Hilo, but that doesn’t stop the locals from observing the Chinese New Year in fine style. (After all, Hawai‘ians can’t resist anything involving firecrackers.) Our celebration—which occurred yesterday, a day early—was to commence with the traditional “lion dance,” a sort of parade that would proceed along Kamehameha Avenue, and then head up Waianuenue to Kalakaua Park, where there would be a Chinese festival, with entertainment and booths.

Mom and Dad and I walked downtown, arriving at 8:30 a.m., the official start time for the lion dance. Virtually no one else was to be seen, however, except for a few boys in sparkly gold and red pants unloading large drums from the back of a truck.


We sat on some large lava rocks and waited. It started to sprinkle, but within five minutes the sun was out again, and we were soon baking in the hot sun.

A little after nine, I heard drums and stood up. Yes! They were coming—a bright pink lion was headed our way! I rushed toward the lion and then stopped in my tracks: A gagillion firecrackers started going off at its feet, making a huge racket and prompting the smaller kids to plug their ears.


And lo, the lion started to dance!

click on arrow to see video

The schtick (I don’t know the Chinese version of that Yiddish word) is that the bystanders “feed” the lions money, and in return are blessed and given good luck for the year. So the lions don’t just stay out in the street; they dance through the businesses along the way as well (sans firecrackers), to get fed by as many people as possible.

going into a store on Kam Avenue

Here’s the pink lion being greeted by a business owner as it comes inside:

you can see that the lion’s front feet are off the ground, as it dances

There were other lions as well. A small one, manned by two kids:


and my favorite, a homemade job:


Here’s the homemade lion at rest,


and here is it’s “driver,” happy to get a break:


The lions danced to percussion provided by a hoard of enthusiastic drummers:


You can see from his legs that the guy on the right was also part of the pink lion entourage. And he seemed proud, like a lion:


The lion dance continued along Kam Avenue, winding through the cars and vegetation, with occasional bursts of more firecrackers:

note the lion’s “legs,” taking a breather and talking on his cell phone

The dance passed on, up the street toward the festival, leaving a trail of firecracker detritus:

goes nicely with Mom’s slippahs

I leave you with a photo of a couple of lion dance spectators:


Remember: always feed the lions!

(And Happy Valentine’s Day to my sweetie!)

You Can Make Sushi!

eat. Yes, you could spend a dozen years as an apprentice in Tokyo, learning the intricacies of steaming, cooling and seasoning sushi rice, and the meticulously perfect way to slice the akami (lean) and toro (fatty) meat of the maguro tuna.

I know, I know—the plate’s Chinese

Or, like me, you can jump into the fray willy-nilly, with no training whatsoever—other than sitting at the bar of your local Japanese restaurant, watching the chef at work as you sip your Asahi and wait for dinner.

I’ve discovered that, with a little practice—particularly in the rolling portion—it’s not at all hard to make quite passable sushi maki and nigiri. Maki are the rolls, and nigiri are the pieces of fish laid on top of mounds of rice. (Learn about the history and different kinds of sushi here.) In this post, I will show you how to make maki.

First you need to steam some short grain rice (long grain won’t get sticky enough). It’s much easier with a rice cooker, but you can use the old-fashioned stovetop method if you like. When it’s done, scoop the rice into a bowl—the larger the better—and stir it gently periodically, to cool it down. (I’ve heard tell that the traditional Japanese method is to use hand-held fans to hasten the process.)

While it’s still warm, stir in some white vinegar and sugar.


I didn’t measure my amounts; I just kept adding and tasting until it seemed right. Be especially careful not to put in too much sugar. You don’t want the rice to taste sweet at all; it’s just there to cut the acidity of the vinegar. You could dissolve the sugar in the vinegar first, or use sweetened Japanese mirin vinegar. Both the vinegar and sugar taste should be subtle. You can also add some salt if you like, though I don’t, since most folks dip their sushi in soy sauce, which is very salty. (You can buy packets of sushi flavoring powder to use instead. I’ve tried them—the powder taste a bit like salt n’ vinegar chips.)

While the rice is cooling, you can cut and chop your ingredients. I decided to make two kinds of sushi: shrimp, cream cheese, cucumber and macadamia nuts; and ahi, papaya, avocado, and green onions. For the ahi, I bought some poke from the store down the street, which was marinated in shoyu, sesame oil, and green onions.


Although they’re not necessary, I always use sheets of nori—roasted seaweed—for my maki, as you don’t need a bamboo roller if you use it, and it’s much easier to roll the sushi with the nori.

Start by spooning some seasoned, cooled rice onto the nori sheet, which should be laid out horizontally.


Spread the rice out with your fingers (have a bowl of water handy, to dip you fingers in frequently—it will assist greatly with the process). Spread it as thinly as you can. Remember, it’s going to be rolled up, so there will be lots of rice, no matter how thinly you spread it. Leave about an inch free of rice at the top—this will be where you seal the roll together.


Now for the fun part: the assembly. For my shrimp rolls, I started with cooked shrimp (tails removed),


then added cream cheese, cucumber and mac nuts.


Start rolling it all up. Make sure to roll it as tightly as you can without all the ingredients squirting out the ends. A loosely-wrapped roll will fall apart when it’s sliced into rounds, and will be difficult to eat.


When you get to the end, use your finger to moisten the bare strip of nori at the edge with water, and then finish rolling. Press the roll firmly together with your hands, and set it in a roasting pan, seam side down. (Those 10x14 pans work great, as the nori are typically about 9” wide.)

For the ahi rolls, after I spread out the rice, I put on a layer of poke and papaya,


and then avocado and green onion.


It’s nice to let some of the ingredients poke out the end, so that when they’re sliced into maki pieces, the end slices have bits that stick up in the air. Here’s one of the ahi rolls before slicing:


Continue rolling until you run out of rice, ingredients, or nori. (There are usually 10 sheets of nori per packet.)

Cover the baking pan, and store the rolls in the fridge until service. They can be made several hours before eating if you want. Right before service, take them out and—using the sharpest knife you have—slice them into discs. It helps if you wipe the knife off with a damp towel after every few cuts.


Serve the sushi with gari (picked ginger), wasabi (Japanese horseradish), and shoyu.

Here are the birthday celebrants Bud (in yellow shirt) and Carol, along with my dad, sitting down to our sushi lunch. My mom made their leis. (We also had a noodle dish, which you can see on the table, with pork and napa cabbage.)

those are Mom’s ceramic fish on the wall

I leave you with a picture of the socks Bud wore to our sushi party:


Itadakimasu!