It was a lovely late afternoon as we headed for the seldom discussed Hapuna Prince Resort, the sister property to the world renowned Mauna Kea Resort located just across the road. We entered the relatively non-descript lobby located some six stories above the ocean and were directed to a set of elevators which would carry us down four floors to the hotel's main restaurant, the Coast Grille. We exited the elevator, crossed the gardens and came upon a very nice open air dining area with a nice view of the quite large pool area just one more story below and of the beautiful beach inlet two stories down. The view was nicely panoramic despite a few very large and quite lovely old growth trees which served to partially block the setting sun. It was still quite warm but there was a nice ocean breeze. This evening I was being treated to dinner by my frequent dining companion , Sharon. We perused the menu and wine list as we awaited our wait person. She, a very lovely local woman with a beautiful smile and a warm voice, arrived shortly with a plate of freshly baked breads and oil for dipping. We selected our wine, a 2007 Domaine de l'Arlot "Clos des Floret, Nuits-St-Georges France, and settled in to watch the sun set.
The horizon was very clear and we hoped for a "green flash" sunset. As we sipped our wine and nibbled on the breads the sun sank into the ocean, yielding a small but quite brilliant "green flash". I looked to Sharon and asked if she had seen it. She had and smiled. About that time the lady at the next table asked aloud if there had been a "green flash". I looked in her direction, explaining that there had been a flash but that she would not be able to see it with her sunglasses on. She turned and looked at me incredulously. She turned to her husband, asking if he'd seen a "green flash"? He smiled and looked down at his dinner. She removed her sunglasses and glared at the horizon as if willing the "green flash" to return for her. I looked at Sharon and she gave me that look which confirmed my suspicions that I should mind my own business. We returned to our wine.
Our dinner arrived in good order. Sharon had a very nice Iceberg Wedge Salad served with House Bacon, fresh buttery Avocado and an excellent Truffle Bleu Cheese Dressing. I selected the Chilled Nakano Gold Tomato Gazpacho which contained a large dollop of Big Island Goat Cheese, Kamuela Strawberries and sprinkles of Baby Herbs. I tasted a bit of Sharon's salad and it was good. However, my Gazpacho was spectacular. The mild acidity of the golden tomatoes coupled with the sweetness of the strawberries and the smooth, creamy goat cheese was a symphony for the taste buds. While I did share a bit with my companion I will admit that it was shared grudgingly. I slowly sipped the feast of tastes and textures, holding each spoonful in my mouth to allow its many taste dimensions to rest on my pallet. I have never had such good Gazpacho.
After I had virtually licked the bowl clean our entrees were delivered. Sharon had the a Garlic Herb Crusted Rack of Lamb with Mint Jus and sides of whipped Moloka'i Sweet Potatoes, Dijon Gratin, a serving of Ratatouille. It must have been good. She didn't say much during this course and I didn't get a taste.
I feasted on the pan roasted Kurobuta Pork Chop, which was perfectly done with a light crust on the outside while being deliciously moist inside. My accompaniments were "Kea" Sweet Potato with Thyme Infused Ohia Honey and a Mustard Sauce along with honey coated organic Carrots. The unique combination of Thyme, Mustard and the strong tasting Ohia Honey was very tasty and an excellent compliment to the meat.
After our entrees we were very satisfied and settled ourselves into nibbling on a dessert of fresh fruits along with smooth sorbets. We sipped our coffees and shared comments on the glory of this delicious repast. On the hour drive back to town we talked, as we often did, of the vagaries of life. Yes, the river of life was flowing more slowly but many of the experiences were as delicious as this evening. It was a very nice evening.
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