Spirit of Aloha | Articles | Adventures in Dining | July/August 2001

Adventures in Dining
By Joan Conrow

Still the Best

Under new ownership, The Beach House is still worthy of its dreamy locale in Po'ipu, Kaua'i, thanks to executive chef Linda Yamada's inventive Pan-Asian menu

The Beach House offers delightful Pan-Asian cuisine in a stunning setting.

Pity the poor people whose names aren't on the reservation list at The Beach House. It would be cruel punishment indeed to stand at the reception desk, looking out through the open-walled restaurant at an undulating sea almost within touching distance, and then learn it was booked solid for the night.

Fortunately, we were on the list, and so we settled in at a table right next
to the soft green grass of seaside Prince Kuhio Park in Po'ipu, Kaua'i. Palm trees swayed in the breeze, surfers slid down the fronts of small waves, the sun began easing toward the horizon.

I remembered then why I had always loved The Beach House, even before Jean-Marie Josselin bought it and gave it a menu worthy of its dreamy locale. But it has new owners now, longtime Hawai'i restaurateurs Roy Dunn and Mike Hooks, who have an affinity for eateries in beautiful locations, including their two restaurants on Maui, Plantation House in Kapalua and Sea Watch in Kihei. Here, they have another stunning setting, actually the best on Kaua'i.

Happily, under the new ownership the cuisine holds its own, thanks to executive chef Linda Yamada, a tiny woman in a baseball cap who pretty much ran the kitchen even when Josselin still owned the place. Dunn and Hooks were wise to keep Yamada, and she blossomed when left to her own devices, developing a new Pan-Asian menu that's inventive and interesting, yet accessible.

Best of all, she can cook, with a delightful light touch that allowed us to indulge our appetites without ever feeling uncomfortably full or overwhelmed.

A perfect example is her paella. I wanted it as soon as I saw it on the menu. But after enjoying a scrumptiously tender crab cake with an understated red pepper aoli, a couple of seafood wontons enlivened with a hot, sweet sauce, a few bites of rich corn chowder with surprising chunks of salmon, and a salad of Kaua'i-grown asparagus with tomato,
red onion, cucumber, goat cheese and a delectable vinaigrette that perfectly softened the tangy cheese, I thought paella might be too heavy, too rich.

Perhaps the macadamia nut-encrusted mahimahi, the crab-stuffed pork tenderloins, even the grilled lamb or salmon might be a better choice, I mused. My companion, who had chosen another entree, deftly steered me back to the paella because he wanted some, too. And when it arrived, we knew we'd made the right choice. The rice was flavorful, but fluffy, and enhanced with sweet-smoky slices of Chinese sausage that weren't a bit oily. Large shrimp, scallops and mussels were nestled around the rice, which was topped with mahimahi. Every morsel of seafood was perfectly cooked and shining in its simplicity.

My companion, the son of a Chinese restaurateur, decided to put Yamada to the test by ordering the Chinese-style roasted duck. To his surprised delight, it was flawless: meat tender, skin crisp, the sweet-tangy orange sauce, baby bok choy and rice patties perfect companions.

But the night wasn't over yet. As the sun sank into the ocean, staining the clouds an orange-pink, and stars popped out in the slowly darkening sky, our efficient waiter, Edwin, informed us of a special new dessert that took 20 minutes to prepare.
I perked up, as I always do at the word chocolate, and agreed that he should place our order to ensure one of those creations was waiting at the end of our meal.

The night sky had gone totally black and the tiki torches were glowing when the Molten Chocolate Desire was delivered to our table, along with two spoons and coffee. For once I didn't mind sharing a dessert. Heck, I might have killed myself going solo on that warm, rich concoction that hovered somewhere between brownie, souffle and pudding, with a cool topping of vanilla sorbet.

Still, I could think of worse ways to go.

As we sat enjoying our final sips of coffee in the balmy tropical evening, we suddenly looked at each other and laughed. We both had been thinking the same thing: how incredibly lucky we were to be there at that moment, how grateful we were to be alive. And we had another blessing to add to our list-The Beach House is still the best.

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