Excerpt of Honolulu by Alan Brennert
(Page 6 of 9)
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I never wished to see this in practice, much less partake of it, but Jae-sun
had a yen to cook it and none of the local fish markets bothered to stock
something as small and unprofitable as a minnow.
Then one day he came home triumphant from his morning pilgrimage,
proudly showing me not only twenty pounds of fresh skipjack, but a large
bottle filled with water and teeming with tiny live minnows. “Look!” he
cried out. “They are not mudfish, but they will do.”
“Did you find these at the fish market?”
“No, I finally used my head. I went down to the docks yesterday and
searched for a fisherman who would sell his catch to me directly, at a lower
cost. I found a man with a small boat who said he’d be willing, if I committed
to buy a certain amount each week.” He opened the brown butcher paper
covering a three-pound bonito. “This is of excellent quality, as you see.”
“And you asked him to catch you some minnows?”
“He uses them for bait, so he gave me a jarful with his compliments. I
can’t wait to cook these up for a luncheon treat!” He took out a large skillet,
which would shortly become the instrument of doom for the tiny wriggling
fish.
“Ah,” I said, “as it happens, I am having lunch with Beauty today.” This
was a lie, of course, but one I could make true easily enough.
“But this is a rare delicacy, and delicious!”
I slipped out of the kitchen before the butter greased the skillet.
While Jae-sun feasted on bait, Beauty was happy to share some fried rice
with me at Sai Fu’s Chop Sui House on Hotel Street. Panama Dave had
swept her off her feet with his wit, romantic soul, and gentleness toward
Mary, and she had fallen quickly and hopelessly in love with him. I was
happy for her—Heaven knew she deserved some romance and laughter in
her life—but when she began telling us at kye meetings about what “they”
would do once they were married, Wise Pearl tactfully inquired whether
Panama had actually asked for her hand.
“Not yet,” Beauty admitted, “but I’m sure he will.”
Now, months later, Beauty was fretting that the proposal still was not
forthcoming. I suggested, as gently as I could, that perhaps Panama was simply
not the “marrying kind.”
“Oh no, you don’t know him, he’s so sweet,” she protested.
“A man can be sweet and loving and still not be interested in marriage.”
“He loves Mary. You see how good he is with her. He loves children.”
“He has a childlike spirit, it’s true,” I said delicately, “and I’m sure he
cares for Mary. But that does not necessarily mean he wants to be a father, or
husband.”
Beauty fell into a sullen pout and I elected to change the subject.
I returned to the cafe, where my husband was extolling the savory flavor
of his tubu soup. He had saved me some, and I had to admit that it was tasty,
as was the other fish he had purchased. We served it spiced and barbecued for
bulgogi or grilled in a miso sauce. Thus began a long, fruitful business relationship,
with our weekly order increasing steadily. After perhaps six weeks,
Jae-sun came home with thirty pounds of bonito, yellowtail, and albacore,
and with a certain diffidence he told me, “I’ve invited our supplier to the
restaurant with his family. He only purchased this boat last year and I believe
they struggle to make ends meet. I thought they might appreciate a taste of
the fruit of his labors.”
“We should prepare them something special, then.”
Excerpted from Honolulu
by Alan Brennert, Copyright © 2009 by Alan Brennert. Excerpted by
permission of St. Martin's Press, a division of Macmillan, Inc. All rights
reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted
without permission in writing from the publisher.
