Big Momma’s House
Over sapphire swells
Wear choppy whitecaps
I couldn’t help it. Mama’s Fish House forced poetry to spew from my soul. A Fantasy Island of sorts, we wandered down the grassy knoll, where palm trees parted to reveal a majestic, plantation house. In direct contrast, the dining room was swaddled in Tiki-tastic comfort that would rival the Swiss Family Robinson for environmental ingenuity, complete with thatched walls and glassless windows.
We sipped on a couple of Longboard Ales (crisp, light, citrusy) and Kula vegetable shozu, a fragrant broth that opened the nose and palate.
NOTE: fish is so fresh here that the fishermen who caught it are listed on the menu.
Bubba continued his hunt for superior sashimi (tuna) and Mama’s proved to be the granddaddy of them all. With one bite he muttered, “This has ruined fish for me.” Nothing could compare - off the boat and onto your plate in a matter of hours.
The special of the day, Ehu (orange snapper), was done with a white wine, butter sauce and topped with macadamia nuts. This dish made me drunk…I guess intoxicated is a better word, but there seemed to be some type of aphrodisiac in Mama’s food that brought every olfactory sense to its knees (details like banana leaf-lined plates and warm hand towels only intensified the effect.)
Even the weird, coconut gelatin “after-dinner mint” was memorable. Mama's was nature at its finest. It's what Gilligan’s Island would be if the Howells had investors in the place. Oceanside views, nirvana-like serenity and a quality of food matched by no other. Mama said there’d be days like this, I just didn’t know they’d taste this good.