Fairhaven herald. [volume] (Fairhaven, Wash.) 1890-????, 1893-05-11
POIEATINGINHAWAII
ACQUIRING A TASTE FOR THE Pop
ULAR NATIONAL DAINTY.

the Natives of the Sandwich Islands Make
and Eat Their One Great Food.
At your first meal you inquire hungrily
for poi, and there is brought you a little
wooden bowl or calabash containing a
queer looking grayish, sticky compound,
resembling paper hangers paste You re
gard it askance and ask for spoon, but
are told it is to be eaten with the fingers.
"Why, no one could take that stuff up
in their fingers!' you gasp.
"Oh, yes, just see, " and into a companion
calabash your instructor dips two fingers,
and with twirl, only acquired by long
practice, withdraws them loaded with the
compound, which is at once transferred to
his mouth and swallowed, his tountenance
assuming meantime an expression of beati-
fled epicureanism. You do not know what
expression may have taken its abode upon
your visage, but you know your principal
sensation is one of simon pure horror
"Now you try it," says Epicurus. Tenta-
lively you thrust one finger into the mess
and gather up minute dose of the delect-
able Wand. As you raise it toward your
mouth, your nose takes cognizance of a sour
smell that harnoniZes perfectly with the
appearance OF the poi. You close your eyes
and mentally breathing forth a devout
ejaculation, you open your mouth and suck
the poi from your fingers. BY a sublime
effort of will you keep your lips closed over
the mouthful, while your companion looks
on interestedly, evidently expecting to hear
your palate scream with delight.
Meantime your imagination is working
with lightning speed. The poi is cold and
clammy. The poi tastes like stale yeast,
it stings your tongue, and an unutterable
disgust possesses your soul. You are sure
you are going to choke though you know
you dare not, and you figuratively take
yourself by the throat and force yourselfto
swallow the compound. You can trace its
progress through the nsOphagus by the
Mortified shudd1r that organ gives as the
mouthful passes along it, you can hear the
Will in your stomach shrek as the froglike
lump makes its appearance among them,
and you think yOd are going to die then
and there Don't you like itp' you hear
some one say. You struggle back to con
seriousness and murmur your fear that you
are not educated to such a high point Of
taste.
''Oh, never mind is the consoling re-
ply. You'll be SO fond of it in day or
two you can't keep house without it,"
You know better than that, but you offer
no contradiction to the assertion. But If
you would leave the Islands with a con
science untainted by poi you must hold to
your resolution to abstain from tasting the
stuff again. This will be difficult to do.
You will see all your acquaintance dipping
into their calabashes and hear them expa-
tiating on the delights OF poi, and you be.
gin to aspire to taste again You think
about it by day and by night, and at last
you venture. You take another step along
the downward pathway. As the poet has
so touchingly described, You first endure,
then pity, then embrace" the calabash.
The closing steps IN your career are easy
to picture. You call for poi at every meal.
You take poi for an appetizer, you use it as
top dressing after dessert, you ballast with
1t before eating, you use 1t for broken stor-
age to make the other yi..nds ride easy If
your food doesn't taste good, you eat lit
tie poi to tone up your palate. If you are
feeling out of SORTS or under the weather,
you take lit;ic poi Tor your stomach's
sake. 1t is nsefui as IN eye opener i'm the
morning. il serves admirably as "A nightcap
on retiring, il takes tue place Of afternoon
tea, and tiilin is incomplete without poi. In
word, you have contracted the poi habit.
You grow critical in your judgment, and
fancy you can discriminate between poi and
poi You become particular as to the shape
and appearance of your calabash, and final
ly go down town aud purchase one after
your own taste You regard with cold dis
favor the blunders OF iucxpert poi eaters.
1t is not considered elegant to use more
than two fingers ia eating it or to put the
stuff on the edge Of the calabash or drop
any Of it in transit. You acquire a scien.
tilic twirl of the fingers in gathering up
your mouthful and an airy grace in convey
ing to your mouth.
Poi is a dish that must long remain pc
culiar to the Hawaiian islands-always, in
fact, unless some means are co4trived for
preserving taro so that 20 will stand export
Poi is made from taro, a root resembling
the turnip. it grows ia the water, with
large, handsome green leaf, aud il is almost
tasteless. There is also an upland taro
cultivated in the mountains by the natives,
which has a more decided taste. and which,
as ! learned TO my cost on tasting it raw,
bites the throat like horseradish. The low
taro is the chief vegetable in the island and
in early days constituted the natives prin-
cipal crop When cooked, it assumes a
notified gray and white appearance, very
like the lava rock that abounds everywhere
in the islands
The process Of manufacturing the poi is
quite a lengthy one A great hole is dug in
the ground, and into this the taro roots are
placed around piles Of hot stones. The
earth is then heaped over the place and the
taro left TO steam. When the taro Is thor
oughly cooked, which is often several hours,
the roots are dug out again, peeled and put
into huge stone receptacle, in which they
are pounded to pulp This work is per-
formed by the men Il is an arduous task,
and on hot day (and nearly all days are
hot on the islands, the pounding of poi Is
scene over which it is desirable TO draw a
veil.
The poi Of commerce. is now made by
machinery. The natives, however. still
make their own. When the mass is thor
oughly beaten and smooth, it is mixed with
water to the proper consistency-about like
thick paste-strained through coarse cloth
and set away for two or three days until il