Taro cooked then pounded into a smooth paste, mixed with water and left to rest a day or two: it sours slightly, becomes alive. The staple food of tropical Polynesia, first presented as an offering before dipping in one's fingers.

Why this dish? In the islands where Mauna Kea rises, taro is the eldest child of the gods and the poi made from it is sacred: one never raises one's voice around an open poi bowl. For Māui, the demigod who walks between worlds, it is the food shared with ancestors as much as with the living — the link between earth, sky and sea.

Lower your voice, stranger: the poi bowl is open, and with it the presence of the elders. The taro is the firstborn, the elder brother of humans — we cook it in the oven, we pound it on the stone until it becomes smooth as the water of a calm lagoon. We pour a little water in, we let time do its work: one day, two days, and the poi pricks the tongue gently, a sign that it is alive. The first portion is not for you: it is for those who came before us.

How it was made : Throughout tropical Polynesia — and especially in Hawaiʻi — poi is the quintessential staple food. Taro, considered the mythical ancestor of humanity (Hāloa), was cooked in the earth oven then pounded on a board with a stone pestle. The natural fermentation, sought after, gave poi its characteristic acidity and allowed it to be preserved. Deep respect surrounded the open bowl.

The contemporary twist : Served in a small bowl smooth as a mirror, to eat by hand: the most ancient and direct experience of the Polynesian taste.

Maui-tikitiki-a-Taranga · Charactorium