-- When I was a kid, my parents went to Hawaii. They brought back a can of coconut syrup, which sat in the fridge for several months. My images of Hawaii were shaped by Hawaii 5-0, pineapple commercials, and that can of coconut syrup. I imagined that Hawaii had to smell of pineapples and coconut syrup.
-- Earlier this summer, I read Lee Goldberg's second MONK novel, MR. MONK GOES TO HAWAII. In the novel, which takes place on Kauai, Monk's assistant Natalie eats macadamia nut pancakes for practically every meal. It strained suspension of disbelief to the breaking point that Natalie would remain the so-slight-she's-almost-not-there blond shown on the TV show after ingesting that many pancakes, but hey, that's artistic license.
Last night, we observed the ritual of grabbing a couple of maitais (at the Olympic Cafe in Kapaa.) This morning, I informed Amy that we had to have some mac-nut pancakes. So we sauntered to the Ono Family diner, and each ordered the tropical stack (mine with bananas, Amy's without). The fully-loaded tropical stack mixes mac nuts, bananas, and coconut into the batter, and tops the stack with each of those treats. Plus, the diner served a hot pitcher of -- yes -- coconut syrup, with shreds floating in it. Holy Frappuchino, that was marvelous. By the time I was done, I was so full of carbs you could bag me, twist-tie me, and put me on the bakery shelf.
Afterward, I went swimming in the pool, unconcerned when a tropical rain started falling. No rain, no rainbows.
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