Poi. Guava. Opakapaka. Lomi lomi salmon. Those are some of the specialties that come to mind when thinking about Hawaiian cuisine. None is found at the Hawaiian-influenced Liholiho Yacht Club. There are no mai tais on the cocktail list. The space won't remind anyone of Smuggler's Cove. While it's more than OK that the menu and décor do not resemble a luau, right now there are just not enough moments that sweep diners away from their plates to grab a ukulele and start singing.
I sang full volume after Chef Ravi Kapur's poke ($14.50), which speaks fully of Hawaii. The glistening ruby fish, with just a dab of sesame oil and sriracha aioli, tops a nori chip that seems as if five pounds of seaweed were crammed into it.
But a series of wipeouts followed. The single bite of oyster, beef carpaccio, and Thousand Island in a butter lettuce wrap (three for $12) tastes of soggy greens covered in fried batter. A one-note chopped salad of squid, tripe, cabbage, peanuts, and fried shallots needs more mint and an additional sauce element. Don't get me started on the popcorn ($5), which cries out for more togarashi and butter. It could have been free at the bar and left mostly untouched. Bring back bread plates, please.
Things will smooth out. The meal I had at Prospect when Kapur served as the restaurant's opening executive chef was among my favorites of the past decade. After the birth of his son in 2011, Kapur briefly left the restaurant world entirely, returning a year later with pop-ups Liholiho Yacht Club and Paniolo Social, concepts that would take over spots like State Bird Provisions and Bloodhound. Kapur partnered with Jeff Hanak and Allyson Jossel, both owners of Nopa, to create Liholiho's brick-and-mortar, and it has quickly become the anchor dining room of the ever-changing Tendernob.
And so a meal ebbs and flows, much like a surfer at Banzai Pipeline waiting for the right wave. Steamed buns (two for $12) are mandatory, filled as they are with tender, slightly fatty beef tongue and a spark plug of kimchi, and tamed by cucumber slivers in a warm poppy-seed-studded bun. This is prime-time cooking: playful, disciplined, and exciting. But the octopus ($16.50) is chewy, with bland potatoes that starch-block the tremendous cilantro-enriched sauce, curried raisins, and Castelvetrano olives.
Fortunately, Kapur isn't shy about turning the classic Caesar salad ($14.75) upside-down. Its bonito-fortified dressing resides under a lettuce-free trio of asparagus, snow peas, and avocado, and much for the better. Where the Caesar shows risk and imagination, the grilled short ribs ($34.50), with a side of bone filled with gelatinous marrow and escargot, show too little personality apart from being the token dish for unadventurous carnivores. If you're going for any of the other large plates, be smart on portion size. Tables of fewer than four have a choice between a procession of small plates or a massive meat platter feast; either will cause major bouts of #FOMO. It would be great to see smaller servings as options for at least some of the second courses — in particular, the McMansion-size pork belly.
Penelope Lau, formerly of Craftsman + Wolves, creates the desserts ($10 each). Chocolate cake could use more of the sesame frosting in the middle to jazz up what is otherwise a decent birthday cake. We can only wish that the glazed macadamia nuts that come with the cake were sold by the bowl. And don't miss the clever Baked-Alaska-gone-tropical as a Baked Hawaii, with pineapple ice cream under a torched vanilla chiffon roof.
Beyond the food, this is a gorgeous restaurant, entirely tiki-free. Handsome exposed brick backs the rear dining room, with its immaculate yellow tile open kitchen in full view. The front has the bar, communal tables, and seating for the walk-in crowd. Yes, the benches everywhere are new wood, not the ubiquitous reclaimed wood, but they're still incredibly uncomfortable after 10 minutes. Everything else is exceedingly well-designed. As with the food, the atmosphere really reveals what a personal project this is for Kapur, from the "Aloha" greeting in tile at the door to the large image at the bar of his mother as a young girl. The restaurant's name even reaches back to Kapur's youth on O'ahu, being the name his friends gave to their "organization" that threw parties to pay for the tools to race Hobie Cats and other sailboats.
For drinks, make sure to open with the Castaway ($10), an idyllic apéritif with clean, calm manzanilla sherry that's been given a hint of mystery from the salted Falernum syrup and green Chartreuse. After two beautiful sips of the rum-based, Angostura-heavy Bitter End, ($11) everything swiftly got watered down from crushed ice. (When, oh, when will Mayor Lee forbid crushed ice in all city drinks except mint juleps?) Wine is a real strength, as Lulu McAllister understands not everyone wants to pay $70-plus for a bottle, and composed a list that effortlessly blends the known and the funky. Sommelier schools should be teaching this and and her wine list at Nopa as gospel. Cheers to that, and to the excellent recommendations and pacing from the staff. The only knock is the wait time, which approaches the two-hour mark.
But relax, everything will be fine. Remember, Aloha means hello and goodbye. I have a feeling we'll soon be saying farewell to these slippery early days and greeting an excellent restaurant that will impress diners' palates and brighten their moods, like stepping off the plane on Maui for a week's vacation on the beach.
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