Recipe Essay

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Kyle Salanoa

English Comp 1010


10 February 2023

During the housing crash of 2008 I remember picking up and moving from place to place

until finally crash landing at my grandparents’ house. It wasn’t much, just an old pueblo style

home with 3 bedrooms and a chicken coop out back and not a blade of living grass in sight.

Although things were tough, I can say thankfully that due to my hardworking family, I never

spent a single night hungry. In fact, with my Samoan Grandmother I spent most nights quite the

opposite. In Polynesian culture, we emphasize the importance of the three ‘F’s’. Faith, Family,

and Football. If I’m being completely honest though, there should be a fourth ‘F’ for food.

Being Afakasi, (the Samoan word for mixed) I had experienced a little taste of my

Samoan culture and our cultural foods but not much at all. I was used to having some Samoan

food at family gatherings, funerals, and church potlucks but I tended to gravitate more towards a

PB&J than a skewered fish. I remember my Nana opening up the cooler at our family barbeques

and thinking she had kidnapped an exhibit from the aquarium. Slimy tentacled creatures, a literal

ball of spikes, and fish with beaks similar to a parrots filled me with terror. But at least our

vegetables were normal… Nope, wrong again! Nanas veggie drawer consisted of purple

potatoes, leaves the size of a tennis racquet, tiny bananas, and yet another spike covered demon

food (are you sensing a theme here?). My young self could not believe that these mutant animals

could possibly be intended for human consumption. Even as a 6 year old I thankfully had the

common sense to play it cool so as to not expose myself as an imposter in my full blooded
Samoan BBQ. So I helped wrap all these scary items in foil and broad leaves and place them in

our Samoan style oven to cook. To the bewilderment of my childhood self, the inedible-seeming

foods were transformed in the oven into delectable steaming bundles of goodness. From this

experience, I derived one of my favorite comfort foods on this entire planet. I remember eating

Pilikaki almost any time that I go back to visit my Nana. It’s a simple dish made up of normal

ingredients surprisingly. Wrapped up in a steaming bundle of banana leaves, mackerel, coconut

milk, and diced onions usually served alongside a bed of white rice.

To the random passerby, the response to this dish might be similar to mine at first, but

over years and years the mellow savory and sweet flavors bring me back to a simple time where

everything wasn’t so complicated. Describing Pilikaki as a comfort food is a humungous

understatement. This last summer, I was cut from my dream school’s college football team after

spending the whole summer training hard for my shot. After dejectedly packing up all of my

clothes, I left behind everything I couldn’t fit in a backpack and a shattered dream. As I waited at

my aunties at 4am I still recall a familiar smell coming from the oven. As the scent hit my nose

memories flashed in my head. Of a kid coming home from the park scratched and bruised from

playing tackle with the neighborhood kids to his favorite lunch. Soft tastes and flavors reminded

me that that kid still existed. Deep down I was still that same kid. Playing a game, catching a ball

and getting beat up only to come home and stuff my face. I thought of how that kid might be

proud of seeing how far he would end up making it. I realized I couldn’t let that kid give up. For

that fiery eyed kid with a head and heart full of dreams I was able to pick up my head and double

down in my efforts to chase down that dream once again.

Throughout my life, food has always been absolutely key. From nourishing my body and

helping me grow and recover, to helping my spirits recover after a heartbreaking failure. It’s easy
to blow these things off as unimportant for some. But for me, I truly don’t think I would be who I

am without the cultural foods and experiences that came along with them. If given the

opportunity I would push to add Food as the fourth ‘F’ of Samoan culture.

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