Anger Burger

I think I might be Hawaiian.  There’s no other explanation for gravitating toward a diet of Spam, raw fish, rice and anything cooked down in teriyaki sauce.  And proper Hawaiian shave ice?  Jeebus have mercy.  I’m still working on the poi (I like it alright as a condiment, but a whole spoonful makes me gag), and while I have a surprising idiosyncrasy of disliking fried foods, even I must brake for the Hawaiian masterpiece of deep-fried corned beef hash.

I try not to do it too regularly, but at least once a month we have “Hawaiian Dinner” which consists of teriyaki Spam (at least I get the Lite Spam, which is lightened purely by replacing some of the pork with chicken and tastes nearly identical), some steamed rice and a bunch of green onion and dry seaweed sprinkled over the top.

Hawaiians also love Portuguese sausage, a mild, paprika-heavy sausage that wouldn’t taste out of place in everything from a BBQ plate to a smorgasbord.  In other words, its a tasty if unremarkable sausage.  If you’re going to eat a forcemeat, I’d vote Spam.

But Portuguese sausage has its own appeal, particularly if cooked down in homemade teriyaki sauce (equal parts sugar to soy sauce and a dash of sake).  I had a conversation that went like this:

me: “You know, anything is delicious cooked down in sugar and soy sauce.”

Mike: “Now you sound like an Asian.”

Anyway, its not exactly healthy but its not terrible either, and the more I eat like this the more I have a inexplicable homesickness for a place I have never lived (… which would be Hawaii, keep up).

Sometimes just losing myself in a blog for a few days will cure this, though this last time I’ve waded through dozens of pages of the ever-delightful The Tasty Island and instead just feel worse.  So I made rice, a fried egg (topped with Japanese spice mix), teriyaki Portuguese sausage and some takuan (pickled daikon radish).  And I close my eyes and pretend the sound of the neighbor’s plastic sheeting snapping in the breeze is a palm tree rustling in the trade winds.