Like many journalists, I started on the city desk. I covered the debate over a rail transit system before being lured to the features desk with the promise of being able to interview rock stars.
That was 24 years ago. The choice was easy. Politics was driving me crazy; it was frustrating listening to two groups of people who could never see eye to eye, much less achieve something for the public good, reaching impasse after impasse.
Better to stay sane and write about fashion and food. Not that the restaurant beat hasn’t been fraught with chefs threatening to kill me over the years and, now, the rise of food as political statement.
When I started writing about food, it was all about straightforward hedonism, the thrill and pure enjoyment of surroundings and flavor profiles. Today the food choices you make are fast becoming a barometer of your politics and how enlightened you are.
That was made clear with reactions to The Whole Ox Deli, where chef Robert McGee says he hopes to be known for making good sandwiches. His partners Blaine Tomita, Kanoe Sandefur, Alejandro Briceno and Lindsey Ozawa, meanwhile, tease he’s out to save the planet, one sustainable sandwich at a time.
McGee arrived two years ago from Portland, Ore., bringing all the sustainable practices he learned in the kitchen at Higgins restaurant. Starting at Apartment3, he moved on to 12th Ave Grill and SALT Kitchen before starting the pop-up Plancha and now settling in at 327 Keawe St., where several restaurants have come and gone in eight years.
This one looks like a keeper.
The Whole Ox Deli is a lab of sorts, focusing on McGee’s philosophy of nose-to-tail cooking that uses every part of an animal so nothing goes to waste. In doing so, the restaurant challenges most locals’ perception of a deli, as exemplified here over the years by Doug’s Gee…A Deli and the now-closed Bernard’s New York Deli and Kailua’s Brent’s.
At those places you could always count on a Reuben, pastrami or salami sandwich. At Whole Ox that’s not always the case because of supply issues most of us never think about. Far removed from the farm, most people have no concept of what it takes to feed the proverbial village.
"What kind of deli is that?" a friend asked. "They don’t even have a salami sandwich. They couldn’t even find the ketchup."
I sighed deeply.
"It’s not that kind of deli," I said. "The sandwiches arrive perfect so you’re not supposed to add anything. If that’s what you want, just go somewhere else."
Other friend: "I don’t care what the chef wants. I just want what I want."
Another big sigh. Honestly, I write because I think people should be open to ideas other than their own, but I continually find that’s not the case. I’m just sayin’.
Even so, McGee said, "We could have put off opening, but eventually you say, ‘We have to do it,’ so we did it. I couldn’t be more grateful. People who get it really, really get it, and people who don’t take an explanation really easily."
Like just about every foodie in town, it seems, I was at The Whole Ox on opening day, March 28, and ordered the BBK ($10), a marvel of smoked pork layered with crunchy cucumbers and Southern-style Carolina vinaigrette. At the time I thought it would be easy to come back for the pastrami later because our offices are right down the block. I didn’t know "later" would stretch into weeks.
"I guess it was a flaw in the business plan," McGee said. "The island will not give us enough brisket to keep people happy."
In an ideal situation, McGee said he aims to process one steer and three pigs a week. A 1,000-pound steer with head, skin and viscera removed will yield about 400 pounds of meat, enough to feed about 800 people. Out of that, only about 26 pounds is brisket that McGee turns into pastrami, barely enough for 100 sandwiches.
And running out doesn’t mean going out and buying boxed meat. True to his mission to produce and eat local, McGee does his own brining, a 15- to 21-day process. At that, he expects to have another supply of pastrami in about a month.
That being the case, I had to live vicariously through the review of another friend who had the K+Z sandwich of pastrami with chicken liver pâté, liver and onions ($12). "The chicken liver spread soaks through the bread. At first I thought it was the swirl of color of rye bread. It’s so good with the sweet onions, and the liver gives it so much richness," she said.
And don’t expect the usual chickpea fritters from the "falafel" sandwich. The one served here ($9) gets an Indian twist in the form of a deep-fried pakora of assorted greens and tomatoes with a touch of spicy harissa yogurt.
A dry-aged burger ($11) is pure beef, no fillers, topped with tart caper aioli and red onion, served on a sweet onion roll.
Other sandwiches include the Medianoche ($12) with roast pork, ham, pickles and provolone, and classic roast beef ($11) with horseradish, cheddar and onions.
Breakfast starts at 7 a.m. and is less heavily trafficked than lunch. Of course it’s meat-intense with the likes of steak and eggs; smoked pork hash ($10) served with long strips of pork, tiny diced potatoes and eggs over easy; and eggs Benedict with a choice of Canadian bacon ($11) or foie gras ($19). The crisp, seared foie gras makes a nice counterpoint to the soft eggs.
Waits for food are running about 15 minutes, even when there’s not a line. While waiting, you can peruse the deli case, full of salads including potato, Caprese, roasted beets, watermelon, barley and egg salad, plus house-made meat terrines and pâtés.
"The head cheese, we can’t keep it in stock," McGee said.
"There’s a mystique about it, and some people come in and say, ‘Aghh!’ But then they say, ‘Well, we’re here, let’s try it,’ and when you give them a sample, they get it."
Growth doesn’t come easy, but it always starts with a challenge, and right now that means trying to learn from some of the most progressive minds in the local food industry and having more people adopt their ideals.
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Nadine Kam’s restaurant reviews are conducted anonymously and paid for by the Star-Advertiser. Reach her at nkam@staradvertiser.com.
