Spirit of Aloha | Articles | Under the Hula Moon | July/August 2005

Under the Hula Moon
By: JOCELYN FUJIII

Salt of the Earth

Photo: Brett Uprichard

In his definitive book, Salt: A World History, Mark Kurlansky relates this cherished substance to sexual desire, the origins of agriculture, the domestication of animals, the American Revolution, the independence movement in India, Egyptian mummification, the invention of gunpowder, the establishment of cities and trade routes and countless events large and small. Salt is a big deal, he points out, and it’s “the only rock we eat.”

Fortunately for us, Hawai‘i has a place in the global salt hierarchy. How could we not? We are surrounded by ocean, our islands bathed in salt air. The trade winds that sweep in from the northeast have come a long way to reach us, over briny water all the way. The Hawaiians, ingenious naturalists, have a long history of making and harvesting salt from evaporated seawater in depressions they carved in lava and other rock, or in shallow ponds by the ocean. In Hanapēpē, in west Kaua‘i, Hawaiian families have tended salt ponds for generations, gathering some of the finest sea salt known, flaky rather than powdery, ranging in color from the palest of pink to darker shades of salmon. According to Kurlansky, even Capt. James Cook reported on the excellence of Kaua‘i salt in the late 18th century. But he had one complaint. Like many before and after him, he considered colored salt to be “dirty” and inferior.

Today, the world is waking up to the benefits of volcanic red clay, Hawai‘i’s ‘alaea, the substance from the earth that colors natural salt in various shades of sienna and imbues it with extra minerals. The Hawaiians use this salt medicinally and ceremonially, in blessings, as a precious condiment and as a gift of high value. But as the cultural and culinary cachet of this salt has grown, so have the possibilities of deception. For some years, cheap California crude salt—mined, not harvested from Hawai‘i’s shorelines—was sold as Hawaiian salt merely because the offshore version was reddened with ‘alaea.

Not all good salt is red, either. While Hanapēpē salt cannot be sold, high-priced salts from Moloka‘i and the Big Island—ranging from black to snow white—have hit the shelves of gourmet shops. Salt from Puna and Hilo often have the ‘alaea hue, the Moloka‘i salt can be white or black and the Kona salt, made from pristine water piped in from 2,000 feet deep in the ocean, is pure, blindingly white and frightfully expensive. Once, when I wished to express my gratitude to my physical therapist, as I left his office for the last time, I gave him a small portion of precious Hanapēpē salt. Visibly moved, he disappeared for a moment and emerged with a tiny bag of white sea salt that he had made himself, raking and tending the sea water while staying with friends in Kalaupapa, Moloka‘i. We exchanged our gifts, bowing to each other knowingly.

Hawai‘i chefs are hard-pressed to stock their kitchens with an ingredient so difficult to sustain and acquire reasonably. Yet, the best chefs know the value of Hawaiian sea salt. “To me, salt is of very great importance,” says George Mavrothalassitis, owner of Chef Mavro Restaurant and the James Beard Foundation’s Best Chef of Hawai‘i and the Pacific Northwest in 2003. “You cannot choose just any kind of salt in the kitchen. I believe that the only salt you can use in the kitchen is sea salt, or natural salt, or quality salt, but certainly not the salt in the blue box in the market. It is too strong and full of chemicals. When I travel on a promotion, I always take my salt and my pepper. Always, always, always, because very rarely do I find the salt that I want. I want natural, organic salt—the one from Kaua‘i is one of the best that I know, because it’s totally natural.” He also uses fleur de sel from his native France, the “flower of salt” dating back to Egyptian times.

As early as 523 A.D., writes Kurlansky, Roman official Cassiodorus said, “Although there may be someone who does not seek gold, there never yet lived the man who does not desire salt, which makes every food more savory.”                                                                                                                     

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