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Thursday, November 18, 2010

Island magic



Sam Sifton, the new food critic for the New York Times, wrote up a nice piece on Wednesday about a new joint in Manhattan called the Hurricane Club.  It’s a Polynesian restaurant. 

 

Be still, my heart. 

 

I checked my own reaction with that of a person less than half my age.  She didn’t know what a “Polynesian restaurant” was, but she brightened up when I mentioned Mai Tais and Scorpion Bowls. 

 

Polynesian restaurants rate their own entry in the Encyclopedia of Bad Taste.  Their patron saint is Trader Vic, their hallmarks the Mai Tai and the Pu Pu Platter.  They specialize in sweet-and-savory Chinese-style food, elaborate sweet-and-sticky drinks (the Fog Cutter! the Luau Sizzler!), and over-the-top décor featuring volcanoes and palm trees. 

 

It goes without saying that this is not Chinese food, not Japanese food, not Polynesian food.  What is it?  It is a Good Time. 

 

The Polynesian trend followed the usual curve.  First the restaurants were fun and different; then they were commonplace; then every Chinese restaurant in America began offering Mai Tais and teriyaki skewers; then the Polynesian joints became run-down and tacky. 

 

And now we have the backlash to the backlash. 

 

Sifton mentions one local and well-preserved specimen: the Kowloon in Saugus, Massachusetts.  The menu has gone Thai/fusion, but the décor is still Bali Ha’i, and you still walk in beneath the feet of a giant Tiki god.  Downtown Providence had Luke’s Luau Hut (with the Volcano Room in the basement) into the 1990s.  Partner and I always hit the Tiki Port in Barnstable when we’re on Cape Cod.  And you can still find the Mon Kou in South Attleboro, though its palm trees are dusty and sad. 

 

I’m glad to see the trend coming back.  Everything old is new again.  Save me a crab rangoon and a crispy shrimp, kids. 

 

And maybe order me a Luau Sizzler.

 


 

 

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