I haven’t forgotten. This week, we’ll continue our Seven Deadly Sins series with pride, the vice that goeth before a fall. Which is why I won’t be baking any soufflés. Think tall cake, cocksure poultry, puffed pastry, and one massive savory pie.

Meanwhile, congratulations to the big cheeses of the limerick contest. Many thanks and lovely poetry, everyone!

My Irish and Italian ancestors are staring at each other across the Elysian fields, and the Italian ones are laughing: I ate lasagna on Saint Patrick’s Day (and it was delicious).

But I preemptively made up for it at lunchtime with a beautiful wedge of Cahill’s Irish Porter Cheddar. I discovered it while prowling my local fancy fooderie last Friday, and asked the man at the cheese counter about it. “It’s good. It’s like cheddar. It’s made with port,” he said, and looked to cheese man no. 2, who said “It’s made with Guinness.” I’ll add that these guys are usually very helpful and rarely off the mark.
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I loved Buzz’s Original Steakhouse, a forty-year-old establishment just a few yards away from breaking surf on Kailua beach, as soon as I saw the “After the beach, please cover up” and “No tank tops after 5 p.m.” signs nestled among “Poke” and “Fish Burrito” on the palm-tree-shaped specials board.

I also knew I had to try this dessert when our waiter, who was shyly charming and who gave us the “hang loose” sign at the end of every sentence, pointed to it on a tray of similarly alluring items and said “This is the Cocolatta. You won’t find it anywhere else.”
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I’ve been in Hawaii hanging ten and searching for the Big Kahuna of lunch plate specials. Stay tuned for more on my island eating adventures, including how I went loco moco and got mai tai’d up.