Passion is at the heart of Kobayashi Group, and in each edition of Violet, our interests lie in the diverse and innovative forms oneâs passions can take. This season, we bring you stories of those who honor tradition, celebrate heritage, and look to nature as their muse.
We meet a trio of artists whose oeuvres are colored by the organic bounty of landscapes across the archipelago. In Windward Oâahu, we glimpse the psychedelic blooms that have made Voodoo Plants a favored purveyor of florals for show-stopping lei and flower art. Meanwhile, streetwear meets couture in a new fashion collection inspired by the verdant countryside of designer Rocket Ahunaâs native Kauaâi.
Weâre also thrilled to share the stories of two Japan-based creatives who are exploring traditional crafts through a contemporary lens: Teppei Kojima of Tradmanâs Bonsai, a brand bringing new swagger to a storied art form, and Aaron Mollin of Ichijuku World, whose bespoke suits are driven by a reverence for the craftsmanship behind fine kimono fabric.
We invite you into their worlds of creativity and refinement in hopes youâll resonate, as we do, with their relentless pursuit of excellence, their passion for that which fuels them, and the ways in which they choose to make those passions their own.
Envisioned to enhance the daily lives of residents, Äliaâs dynamic design, curated amenities, and premier location tastefully align to create an unparalleled living experience.
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We believe that true luxury isnât found in objects, but in the freedom of choice. Itâs about nurturing your health, reconnecting with whatâs important, and discovering that the life youâve always dreamed of is within reach.
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Verdant Spectrums
Text by Natalie Schack
by John Hook
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Images
A trio of natural dye artists showcase the beauty in using Mother Nature as a medium.
Translation by Mutsumi Matsunobu èš³ = æŸå»¶ãã€ã¿
The art of natural dyeing is not just about colorâ itâs a profound expression weaving together the history, culture, and ecology of a place. For this trio of distinct artists, the production of natural dyes is a means to work hand in hand with nature, honor traditions, and forge personal relationships with the land. Through their works, they invite us into a world where color is more than a visual experience; itâs a journey of reverence and transformation.
From foraged plants to native flora, the islandsâ lush vegetation offers many materials for natural dye artists to choose from.
Waiâala Ahn
Coaxing Color from the Earth
For Waiâala Ahn, natural dyeing began as a slow and humble process rooted in her Hawaiian upbringing. Growing up with traditional practices such as hula, she watched as the older generation carefully gathered plants for adornments. As a child, she didnât understand the significance of the labor involved. It wasnât until years later, while teaching lei-making herself, that she began to grasp the intricate, painstaking beauty of the process, notably the deep connection found between the land and the shades it produces. âI do adore the color, but itâs really the process that has hooked me for 10 years,â she says. âIt takes so much longer than just putting a piece of fiber in a solution and there being color. There are hours, days, and sometimes, depending on the color, years of labor.â
Today, Ahn and her husband, Justin Cook Tripp, operate their natural dyery and workshop space on their picturesque homestead nestled on the slopes of Mauna Loa, where they live with their young child. Her days are spent among the land she cherishes, where her connection to nature is palpable. Surrounded by lush forests and lava fields, she practices a lifestyle that is both self-sustaining and deeply connected to the rhythms of the earth. âIâm a plant lover and a nature lover by design,â she reflects. âMy childhood was shaped by cultural and environmental activists, so preservation and conservation are very important to me.â The mountains are not only a place of peace but also an endless source of inspiration for her work. Her homestead serves as both sanctuary and laboratory. Itâs a place where she can slow down, listen to the land, and extract vibrant colors from the plants she carefully cultivates.
Ahnâs practice is not merely about achieving a perfect color, but rather embracing the slow, meditative process of coaxing pigment from nature. She often works with the abundant plants around her, favoring those that are accessible, such as black beans, cabbage, and âÅlena (turmeric). Her most beloved medium, however, is indigo, specifically the tropical variety known as Indigofera suffruticosa. Considered invasive in Hawaiâi, the plant is removed and repurposed in Ahnâs hands into striking blue hues.
Her dyeing process is a lesson in patience. Fireweed, for example, yields a vibrant citron-yellow when steamed, depending on the fiber itâs used on. âWhen you treat it
like a tea, the true hues come out,â she says, explaining that the longer you let fireweed steep, the more vibrant the shade of gold. Factors such as the waterâs mineral content or the soilâs composition can create subtle variations in color. Each dye bath produces a unique hue, one that cannot be replicated. The dyes also change over time, deepening or fading, just as the Hawaiian landscape transforms with the passage of seasons and years. âTheyâre evolving, just like we are,â Ahn notes.
Avalon Paradea
A Cultural Canvas
Some of the artist Avalon Paradeaâs favorite plants to work with are âukiâuki, a native species that yields a striking blue, and maâo hau hele, the yellow hibiscus that creates a hue that can shift from blue to green depending on how itâs treated. Paradea marvels at the moment during the dyeing process when a color shift occurs unexpectedly, describing it as âmagic.â âI love it when the plants surprise me,â Paradea reflects. âThe fun part is not knowing. Will it be blue or will it be something else?â Paradeaâs journey into natural dyeing was a lifechanging experience that bridged their love for the land and deepened their understanding for the cultural
âI try to work with these colors and co-create with them and honor their story,â says artist Waiâala Ahn. âItâs learning to tell the stories of these plants in different ways.â
practice of waihoâoluâu mea kanu (plant dyes), past and present. Raised in Hawaiâi, Paradeaâs work reflects a deep reverence for native plants and their role in both environmental conservation and cultural practices. A turning point came in 2016 after Paradea took a natural dye workshop at Kumuola Foundation on Oâahu, hosted by Kaâiulani de Silva. The experience of co-creating with nature to produce a spectrum of possibilities was a font of inspiration for them as an artist, horticulturist, and beyond. âIt was a moment when I realized that this was going to change my perspective on both art and plants,â Paradea shares.
Their passion for native plants grew as they worked with the Koâolau Mountains Watershed Partnership, learning to remove invasive species while simultaneously exploring the dye potential of native flora. âThe more I worked around these plants, the deeper my understanding grew about their cultural significance and the relationship between them and the environment,â Paradea says. Paradeaâs work spans both traditional and experimental approaches to dyeing. Theyâve become deeply involved in kapa, the traditional Hawaiian bark cloth, after discovering a passion for it in 2017. âIt was something I always wanted to learn, but I didnât know where to start,â Paradea says, recalling that this changed upon meeting kapa maker Roen Hufford at Hawaiâi Islandâs annual Wiliwili Festival. âShe invited me to join her hui (group), and I never stopped coming back.â
Through this community, Paradea has deepened their practice, learning to dye kapa with native and nonnative plants. âI see myself as a co-creator,â they say. âI work with living elements, and those plants will do their own thing. Thereâs magic in that uncertainty.â
Kristin Baucom
Art of All Shades
Kristin Baucom, the creative force behind the brand Okbet, has carved a distinctive space at the intersection of fashion, sustainability, and innovation. Since launching her brand in 2021, Baucom has blended the ancient art of natural dyeing with contemporary
streetwear and dynamic installations. Her work celebrates the natural world, creating vibrant, ecoconscious pieces that draw inspiration from local resources and community-driven values.
Baucom found her way into natural dyeing during the pandemic, a time that reignited her connection to the islands and her passion for sustainability. With a background in environmental management from the University of Hawaiâi at MÄnoa, Baucom had always been attuned to natureâs rhythms. Initially experimenting with soap-making, she soon turned her attention to natural dyeing, foraging plants like hibiscus, avocado pits, and strawberry guava from her surroundings. Youâll find her either scouring hiking trails in Nuâuanu or gathering fallen flora from her own backyard. âForaging is such a personal part of my process,â she says. âI love that I can create something beautiful while also being in tune with the environment.â
Okbet began with Baucomâs vision to merge natural dyes with upcycled streetwear. Think unexpected statement pieces like detachable collars with delicate ruffled borders and sleek muslin vests in natural shades of salmon or tan.
Over time, her practice expanded to include art installations and a collection of quirky, sculptural lamps, which have become a hallmark of her practice. Baucomâs lamp designs are particularly distinctive, crafted from upcycled leather, wood, and naturally dyed silk. âI like the idea of bringing nature into the home in a functional but also artistic way,â she says. âEach lamp is a little piece of the environment, transformed into something unique.â At the heart of Baucomâs work is a commitment to experimentation. Her curiosity drives her to explore new dye sources and techniques, such as fermenting milo nuts or using pH-sensitive dyes, like purple cabbage, to create ever-changing hues. âIâm constantly pushing myself to learn more. The more I experiment, the more I realize thereâs always something new to discover,â she says. Collaborations with brands like Ron Hermanâfor whom she most recently produced a slew of silk button-downs hand-dyed in luscious shades of deep chocolate and sky blueâshowcase her versatile approach. Baucomâs varied projects aim to redefine the medium beyond its boho chic
associations by marrying her love of sustainability, the craft of dying, and a passion for contemporary aesthetics, a sensibility exemplified in her one-of-a-kind lamps, which more closely resemble modern art than home goods. âNatural dyeing doesnât have to be bohemian or old-fashioned,â she explains. âIt can be fun, edgy, and still respect the environment. Iâm all about creating something that feels fresh and unexpected.â
Walking through the winding hallways of Hana Kitchens, a culinary incubator in downtown Honolulu, I ready myself to embark on a gastronomic exploration. On any given day, the intoxicating aromas of buttery cookies, herbaceous spices, decadent chocolate, or umami-rich pasta sauces may waft through the air. The atmosphere is calm yet electric as each business settles into its designated kitchen space to begin a busy day of cooking. On the day of my visit, sourdough rises in one kitchen in preparation for Fatto a Manoâs evening cooking class while the savory lamb kebabs and koftas at Middle Eats await pickup from
a food delivery service. An array of local chefs work side by side at the steel countertops and sizzling stovetops, offering up a mix plate of cuisines that mirror Hawaiâiâs cultural and culinary diversity.
Founded in 2021 by Joe Di Condina, Hana Kitchens is a state-of-the-art facility featuring private and shared kitchens of various sizes; two ghost kitchens designed for made-to-order delivery items; and a chic midcentury modern show kitchen for cooking classes, pop-up restaurants, private dinners, and content creation. The designated Class-A commercial kitchens are certified to meet stringent public health standards while also accommodating complex cooking activities. In the artfully designed show kitchen, for example, guests learn to cook a diverse array of cuisines and culinary techniques, from homemade pasta to lau lau.
For Di Condina, the company represents the fulfillment of a lifelong dream, combining his professional expertise in food, marketing, and real estate. Born and raised on the East Coast, he grew up immersed in the restaurant industry, learning the trade from his father, a restaurateur who instilled in him a profound passion for food and business. He leveraged his industry knowledge to scale beverage brands like Rockstar Energy, playing a pivotal role in its branding, marketing, sales, and distribution.
Di Condinaâs success led him to explore real estate, beginning his career as a realtor in New York City. Love eventually led him to Hawaiâi, where he settled with his Honolulu-born wife to start a family. Although he knew he didnât want to open a restaurant, he still dreamed of creating a community space to contribute to the local culinary scene, a vision ultimately manifested into Hana Kitchens.
When the space opened amid the pandemic, it was at a pivotal moment for the food industry. Businesses both locally and globally were struggling to navigate the economic challenges caused by Covid-19. With dine-in services halted, many restaurants focused on delivery operations or closed their doors entirely. â[The pandemic] changed the landscape of the food industry,â Di Condina reflects, explaining that while food delivery services were well established in major metropolitan cities like New York City, they had yet to gain widespread adoption in Hawaiâi. âThe pandemic was the catalyst to get people to order delivery. It made owners realize they didnât necessarily need a brick-and-mortar to run a successful food business.â
In the midcentury modern show kitchen, guests learn to cook a variety of dishes, from homemade pasta to lau
lau.
Hana Kitchens
As any restaurateur can attest, running a restaurant is no easy feat. While the industry has seen workforce and sales growth since the pandemic, a 2024 report by the National Restaurant Association revealed significant difficulties: Ninety-eight percent of national operators cited higher labor costs as a pressing issue, with over a third reporting that their restaurants were unprofitable in 2023. Among other barriers were rising food costs and a shortage of employees to meet customer demands. In Hawaiâi, these challenges are further amplified by disproportionately high rent and maintenance costs for brick-and-mortar operations, along with labor shortages.
For business owners like Tom Walker of âOhana Nui Cookie Company, support systems like Hana Kitchens have become a valuable asset. Walker faced numerous obstacles in previous kitchens, including inadequate space and equipment. âIn the baking industry, you usually deal with humidity issues, but as an island-based business, you also have to contend with limited facilities, people, and ingredients. Everything is premium, so you have to manage your resources,â he says. In 2022, Walker moved from his original kitchen on Queen Street to Hana Kitchens, where he has been producing his Hawaiâi-grown macadamia nut cookies since. The switch has allowed him to follow his dreams while reducing any overhead investment. âYou can really focus on creating,â he says. âHaving the freedom to develop new flavors and products, or pivot or reinvent yourself, is a gift.â
Talia and Kelly Bongolan-Schwartz, owners of Taliâs Bagels & Schmear, also attribute part of their success to Hana Kitchens. After starting the business in 2021, developing recipes in their home kitchen and selling small batches via Instagram, they joined the community space to scale their production. There, they expanded their menu offerings and produced products for sale in the local farmers market scene. By 2023, Taliâs Bagels & Schmear outgrew its open-air stall and opened two storefront locations in Honolulu and Kailua, where customers can savor the Jewish comforts of its bagels, bialys, schmears, and sandwiches. The duo continues to produce at Hana Kitchens, which has allowed their business to evolve and their ideas to innovate. âJoe has been vital to our success. He always asks how he can help expand our business and offers support. He wants everyone to be successful, which is really amazing and rare,â Kelly says.
Over the years, Hana Kitchens has welcomed nearly three dozen tenants, including Banán, the Local General Store, Little Sparrow, Milk Market, and Dos Jefes. In
addition to premium workspaces, Hana Kitchens also offers comprehensive marketing services, including professional photography and videography, and fills its website and social media platform with content showcasing the cuisines and personalities found in its kitchens. âIâve always had a special place in my heart for small businesses,â says Di Condina. âI really enjoy working with owners and supporting their growth.â
On this particular Friday night in November, the show kitchen is abuzz with anticipation for a sold-out pizza-making class led by Fatto a Mano owner James Orlando. As the class begins, Orlando distributes rounds of his prized naturally leavened sourdough pizza to each guest while sharing stories about his culinary journey. Before long, the room is filled with laughter as participants try their hands at kneading and stretching the dough, eager to learn a new skill and savor the fruits of their labor. If food reflects culture, history and heritage thrive under newfound models of collaboration in the skilled hands of the chefs at Hana Kitchens. Tomorrow brings another day of expressing culture through food, another chapter in the islandsâ ever-evolving culinary story of influences from near and far.
The location of the Tradmanâs Bonsai operation is a heavily guarded secret. Located an hourâs drive outside of Tokyo, the compound functions as the companyâs headquarters, but itâs as much a haven for the flock of bonsai producers who have found refuge within its hallowed walls. Here, under the guidance of founder and CEO Teppei Kojima, theyâve found a new lifeâs purpose: perpetuating the centuries-old craft of bonsai in daring ways.
Kojima greets me warmly upon my arrival. The 43-year-oldâs personable self-assurance is palpable as he flashes me a broad smile, stylishly attired in his signature black glasses and a well-tailored pair of tapered trousers. Tattoos peek out from under his shirt collar and sleeves in swirls of dark ink.
On any given day, workers dressed in black from head to toe can be found tending to the compoundâs orderly forest of bonsai trees, a fraction of the 20 full-time employees that comprise Tradmanâs tight-knit crew. Each wears a golden signet ring identical to the one on Kojimaâs pinky finger, engraved with the companyâs goyomatsu (Japanese white pine) logo. Employees are gifted the ring upon joining the Tradmanâs family, a symbol of their commitment and a nod to Kojima and the four childhood friends who comprise his inner circle.
Rows and rows of bonsai stretch the length of the courtyard. Some stand barely taller than a foot.
Others stretch upward with undulating branches like dancers caught mid-motion. Those displayed against the compoundâs walls are part of a private exhibition that Kojima explains is inspired by ryu (dragons). There are pots decorated with carvings of a crawling dragon or graffitied with brash brush strokes. âLook at this one over here,â Kojima says to me through an interpreter, gesturing to a particularly angular trunk. âThis is the dragonâs eyes; this is its snout.â The body of the dragonâ the bonsaiâs trunkâruns parallel to the soilâs surface, curving fiercely over a rock in a masterful feat of bonsai craftsmanship.
Bonsai is the art of depicting the majesty of nature on a small scale. Using techniques such as pruning, pinching, and grafting, trees and plants that would reach full size in the wild are manipulated to grow no more than a meter high. Branches and trunks are shaped with patience and meticulous care into simulacrums of wizened treesâtimeâs unceasing passage represented in miniature. The art form has been around for over a thousand years, imported from China and refined by practitioners of Zen Buddhism. Each plant can take years to mature into its desired form, and the most valuable sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars.
With Tradmanâs, Kojima has brought a distinct swagger to the craft, incorporating a new playbook to appeal to younger generations. Today, it is one of the most sought-after bonsai brands in Japan, if not the world. Over the years, Tradmanâs has lent bespoke bonsai to streetwear brands, such as Bape, Nike, and Kith, and collaborated with Leviâs to produce denim wear inspired by the clothing worn by bonsai growers. It regularly leases bonsai for display by the likes of Aston Martin and Porsche, the bonsaiâs elegantly lit branches showcased at upscale events with a grandeur befitting the finest works of art.
Kojima attributes this success to a maverick approach shaped by his unconventional path into the industry. Born to young parents on the outskirts of Chiba Prefecture in Kashiwa, Kojima had a rough upbringing. Money was tightâthe family frequently went without electricity or gasâand he and his brother spent several years in a child welfare facility early in life. The administrator of the facility was a keen bonsai grower, inspiring in Kojima a love for the art form that stayed with him even after he and his brother were back under their parentsâ roof.
Growing up, Kojima and his friends earned a reputation for stirring up trouble on the streets of Kashiwa. Yet even as a wayward youth, he had a big heart. In middle school, Kojima met his first love and pursued her relentlessly. Her family disapproved of the
More than just a brand and business, Tradmanâs serves as a haven for the tight-knit crew of
bonsai producers who have found refuge within its hallowed walls.
relationship, condemning Kojima as a troublemaker, and the two were forced to part ways. It would be many years before they were reunited.
Throughout his adolescence, Kojima continued down a path of defiance, skipping school with his friends and provoking run-ins with the police. âYou could say we lived the kind of life that people might call delinquent,â he says. âBut in a way, we had our own sense of values in that. Those experiences, even the really tough ones, shaped me.â
Hardship followed Kojima into young adulthood. Not long after he lost his mother at age 17, Kojima took a job at a local pachinko parlor to support his family, quickly working his way up the ranks and becoming manager within a year. âI realized then that I could do whatever I wanted if I put my mind to it,â he says.
Kojima began saving up to open his own clothing shop, an aspiration ignited by a pair of Leviâs 501s he was gifted when he was a teenager. Roped into paying off his parentsâ debt, however, it was a Sisyphean task, and things at home were just as challenging. After a heated argument with his girlfriend, Kojima stepped out for fresh air and a cigarette. When he came back inside, he discovered she had taken her own life.
Kojimaâs close friends acted as his lifeline in the difficult months that followed, never leaving his side as he endured some of his darkest times. âI found out later they thought that if I was left alone, I might [take my life] too,â he says.
One of these friends later earned enough money to start a business selling vintage clothes imported from overseas, and he employed Kojima as a buyer. Kojima felt heâd found his dream career. Then, a buying trip abroad at 31 led to a fateful encounter that changed his trajectory.
âOne of the people I was working with heard I was Japanese and decided to show me his bonsai,â Kojima recalls. Unpruned and painted garish colors, âthey were unlike any bonsai Iâd ever seen,â he says. It left an impression on Kojima, who decided that same night to launch a bonsai business. He knew from the start that he wanted his childhood friends to join him in building the company.
Untethered to tradition, Kojima realized he and his crew could market their creations through untraditional means, using Kojimaâs pre-existing connections with rappers and fashion designers to repackage bonsai for a trendier market. âI wondered what would happen if I mixed street culture with bonsai, the traditional Japanese art,ââ he says. The result was Tradmanâs Bonsai, launched in 2015, which marries contemporary Japanese street culture with bonsaiâs centuries-old tradition. One of the companyâs first events was a street party, music blaring from loudspeakers as Kojima and his team shaped bonsai on the side of the road.
Today, the company shares the art of bonsai through brand collaborations and gatherings at its Marunouchi store. âItâs all about the presentation,â Kojima says, gesturing around the Tradmanâs compound, where bonsai are lit with reverence and poised dramatically on custom plinths of gray concrete. âDisplaying bonsai in spaces like this has never been done before. Collaborating with highend brands like Dior or Cartier was previously unheard of in the bonsai world.â
Instead of the filial ties of a traditional bonsai clan, Tradmanâs has a system of chosen family. This approach colors every aspect of the company, from everyday gestures to the care with which Kojima selects members of the team. Prospective employees must move close to Tradmanâs remote headquarters and train at the complex on their own time. Across eight years, the company boasts a 100 percent retention rate, a testament to the culture that Kojima has cultivated here.
âTradmanâs is unlike anywhere Iâve ever worked,â says Tsubasa Taniguchi, Tradmanâs project manager. âIf weâre having problems in love, in our personal lives, heâll get us one-on-one in his office and have a proper chat. He really cares.â
Itâs a culture as firmly rooted in moral character and family values as skill. âLife is interesting precisely because of its ups and downs. The hardships, the joysâ everything together,â Kojima says. âI want everyone to live with that same mindset. No matter what happens, donât give up. Iâve lived that way, and I think thatâs why I can now spend my days smiling with my family.â
Today, that family not only includes the men of Tradmanâs but also Kojimaâs first love, Shizuno. Twenty four years after they met in middle school, she and Kojima reconnected, married, and now share three children together. âEveryone here [at Tradmanâs], theyâre my family,â he says. âIâm the father, and my wife is their mother. Weâre there to look after everyone.â
expanded under the name Matsubaya Co., Ltd, with the aim of bringing bonsai to a modern audience through gatherings and brand collaborations.
Bonsai
A decade after Tradmanâs founding, Kojimaâs appreciation for his country has also come into greater focus. For years, he admired other cultures and brands from overseas, not realizing that incredible traditions and customs had been in front of him all along. His aim is for others to have the same realization, too. âI want to break the image of bonsai as an elderly personsâ pursuit,â he says. âThatâs why we collaborate with these high-end designers, streetwear brands, and moreâ weâre showing everyone that bonsai are cool. I want Japanese people to be proud of our own heritage.â
Out of the many bonsai at the Tradmanâs facility, there is one Kojima holds most dear: a goyomatsu named â501,â a tribute to both Leviâs 501 denimâa staple of the vintage fashion he lovesâand the gang of five he and his close friends formed in middle school. Known for the soft, silvery foliage that it grows in clusters of five needle-like leaves, the bonsaiâs branches each hold a nest of feathery needles as full and round as a cumulus cloud on a warm, sunny day. Together they conjure all the strength of a stately pine, and yet there is something airy, even buoyant, about the treeâs lush crown. Within its graceful asymmetry lies a resounding will to live, to persist, and to find beauty in the struggle, against all the odds.
Northbound on Route 803, the 5.9-mile stretch of rural highway leading from WahiawÄ to the outskirts of the North Shore, one is hit with this scenic vision: grand Mount Kaâala kissing the highest clouds to the left, a breadth of farmland to the right; collectively their vastness recalls the creation story of PapahÄnaumoku and WÄkea, the parent couple of the islandsâ ruling chiefs, and their abundant domain of fresh water springs, streams, fertile soil, and native plants.
This âÄina momona (fertile land) is Waialua. Once rife with unceasing stretches of loâi kalo and loko iâa, Oâahuâs most northern moku (district) extends from coastal Kaâena Point up into the Koâolau Mountains and back down to Waimea Bay. This storied land, where aliâi (chiefs) were birthed and then ruled until their departed spirits leapt into the sea, are eight ahupuaâa (subdivisions of land): Kaâena, KeÄlia, KawaihÄpai, two distinct acreages of MokulÄâia, Kamananui, Paâalaâa, and Kawailoa. Today, without every islander sharing the kuleana of mÄlama âÄina (responsibility to care for the land), like Native Hawaiian society traditionally mandated, entire fields, mountains, and waterways have become overrun with invasives. From up high one can see the extent of strawberry guava encroaching upon indigenous and endemic trees and plants.
Despite this, there are many committed folks chipping in to safeguard further degradation. Beyond the locked farm gates, homes, and businesses in and around Haleâiwa Town, these farms and organizations make it their daily responsibility to be stewards of the land while offering something unique to a community fighting endlessly against more development.
Makai
MÄlama Loko Ea Foundation
Tucked behind the surf shops and popular eateries on busy Kamehameha Highway in Haleâiwa, the loko puâuone, or sand dune fishponds, of Loko Ea and âUkoâa quietly sit. The two have weathered centuries of wear from king tides to floods to modern-day development. Under the highway runs an âauwai kai that delivers fish from
the ocean to these spring-fed ponds, which are connected by underground caves. The brackish water environment is home to pÄpio, mullet, and Åholehole, which swim alongside native aâiaâi, endemic ducks, coconut trees, kÄ« (ti plants), and kalo (taro). Tiny bubbles rising to the surface show the pondsâ bounty of phytoplankton, which create oxygen and food for fish.
In 2007, the Waialua community asked landowners Kamehameha Schools if it could get back into these fishponds to restore them. When community work days began a year later, Kamehameha Schools eventually approached two dedicated volunteers, James Estores and Benson Lee, to start a nonprofit. One of the men, a heavy equipment operator, had the vision back then for the dredging being done now. Fifteen years later, MÄlama Loko Ea is about a decade away from reaching its goal of reconnecting the ahupuaâa of Kawailoa, meaning âthe long water.â Working with traditional aquaculturist Buddy Keala, the nonprofit studies tides, cloud cover, and wind patterns every day to understand how the loko puâuone operated precontact. After they are finished dredging Loko Ea, the next step will be to reconnect it with its sister pond âUkoâa, resulting in a fully functioning 135-acre fishpond that will produce an estimated 500 pounds of fish per acre every year. Each decision the nonprofit makes is carefully calculated to serve the community and Laniwahine, the kiaâi moâo (water guardian) of this space.
âWeâre super mindful of our place and our responsibility and how it looks to our community,â executive director Rae DeCoito says. âWe work hard for them.â Annually, MÄlama Loko Ea hosts 400 community volunteer events and welcomes 80 schools, reaching over 9,000 students from MÄkaha to LÄâie. One of the organizationâs greatest strengths is instilling the values of mÄlama âÄina in the next generation. Its climate education coordinator HonuâÄina Nichols is a perfect example. Fresh out of college, the 23-year-old is actively building a climate plan for Waialua and taking steps to make Loko Ea a resilience hub. âOur watersheds and wetlands are incredible at mitigating sea level rise, especially our kuapÄ (fishpond wall),â Nichols says. The organization is also driven by the knowledge that fishponds also combat climate change by acting as âcarbon sequesters,â meaning loko iâa not only provide food, but also reduce the amount of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere.
kula Petal Mettle
Laarni Gedoâs Chevy pickup leads the way ahead of a billowing cloud of red dust. We arrive at a dirt road dividing 35 acres into two parcels: one for flowers, one for bananas. Gedo sits near her mother, Norma, who is taking a short break. âSheâs a workhorse,â Gedo says. âSheâs here four to five hours every day. Then she goes home and works in her own garden.â The two women operate
Petal Mettle, an organic farm that Gedo designed while she was caring for her dying father. âGrowing flowers really connected me to the natural cycle of life,â she says.
In the garden, ornamental kale sprawls across the soil like an octopus searching for prey while an âaâaliâi shrub stands unbothered, blocking the wind. There are rows of fuzzy, coral-like celosias in pink, white, and magenta; dahlias in deep reds and purples; marigolds the color of autumn leaves; and multiple species of spiny amaranth ranging from crimson to burgundy. Not the tropical flowers that Hawaiâi florists typically carry, Gedoâs harvest aims to offer something different: blooms just as beautiful as their mainstream counterparts but that are also medicinal and edible. Beyond bouquets, Gedo sells tiny blossoms to chefs for garnishes and makes wellness products, including a buzz button tincture for dental hygiene and a facial toner made of witch hazel, butterfly pea flower, and sage.
Gedo appreciates the relaxed pace of Waialua compared to town, where she lived when she moved to Oâahu in 1992. Originally from the Philippines, Gedo and her parents moved to California in 1990 before continuing to Oâahu. When her military father got assigned to return to California, Gedo stayed put. When Gedoâs father passed, Norma returned to Oâahu. Gedo runs the farm and floral business, making deliveries, bouquets, and wellness products, while Norma, a lifelong farmer, performs the neverending task of pulling weeds. âShe is employee of the month every month,â Gedo says.
At 9:00 a.m., sun already radiating above, we strap on helmets, sunglasses, and seatbelts and conduct a radio check. Once the safety precautions are pau (done), we crank up our 4Ã4 ATVs and the adventure begins. âOur focus has never been about thrills,â asserts Keola Ryan, co-founder of North Shore Eco-Tours, hinting at the deeper focus of our impending excursion. âWe want to have fun, but we also want it to be an educational experience.â A kumu hula (master hula teacher) and University of Hawaiâi instructor of Hawaiian Studies, Keola and his wife, Tasha Kawamata Ryan, who holds a Ph.D. in STEM education, began leading mauna (mountain) tours and work days in 2012. To keep a light footprint, they keep groups to a max of 10 people and only lead them up twice a week. As an educational and cultural entity, they present the âÄina that these groups trek through a Hawaiian lens.
Beginning in ATVs or military trucks, the couple leads groups past farmlands of all types. Kahuku Farms has mango, papaya, longan, and calamansi orchards, along with long rows of tuberose and pongamia beans, a possible new source for biofuel. KÅ Hana Rum also grows sugarcane here. At the top of the Koâolau Mountain Range, about six miles from town, is the âÅpaeâula Trail, named after an endemic red shrimp no longer found here and one of the trails created to access the old water system. The Ryans announce themselves and the group to the Kawailoa forest with an oli (chant). When they feel a gentle breeze on their skin after a moment in silence, they lead the pack ahead. Throughout the hike Keola continues to model how to behave. He snacks on invasive strawberry guava, being mindful to not spit out the seeds and cause new growth. He clears the trail of invasive guinea grass with his machete and points out which plants to weed and which to let beâa tiny sprout of koa only four inches tall, for example. He stops frequently along the path to introduce the group to trees, plants, streams, and summits amid 15,000 acres of conservation land, referring to them by their Hawaiian place names. After crossing the âÅpaeâula Stream, the couple stops the tour at a freshwater pool for a light lunch,
encouraging everyone to jump into the water to cool off. Relics of Waialua Sugar Companyâits old cogs, telephone poles, and water pumpâsurround the banks. A house, built on Dole property just off Twin Bridge Road, is perched overhead. Base camp, a former Palama Settlement campground seven miles up the mountain, is where North Shore Eco-Tours stages and hosts work days throughout the year. They consist mostly of university students, Boy Scouts, high school kids, and hÄlau hula in the lead up to the Merrie Monarch Festival, offering a quiet place for dancers to train. From this grassy knoll scattered with endemic âÅhiâa and naupaka kuahiwi, one can see the Kawailoa ahupuaâa and watershed. The streams of Kawaiâiki and Kawainui merge here to form the Anahulu River system, once abundant with water and now eerily dry.
On the way back down we do a little off-roading in ATVs, where we plow through 10-foot high guinea grass as far as the eye can see. Along the way, drivers and passengers can hear their tour guides through loudspeakers. While the vantage point on the mauna gives visitors a sense of how abundant Waialua is, this sweeping view also serves as a reflection point. Occupying the spaces in between the last of the âiliahi and dwindling koa tree forests are 1,000 acres of Monsanto farmland, military helicopter landings, the tunnels and reservoir system built along the watershed by Waialua Sugar Company to divert water to sugarcane fields, and the ubiquitous Dole properties that seem to roll on for miles along Helemano Ridge. By the end of the tour, guests have had a well-rounded experience, seeing Oâahu as more than just a place to live, work, and play, but as an island with a layered and complicated history. âThey appreciate the place and islands much more afterward,â Ryan says.
To put it lightly, these arenât your mommaâs hibiscuses. The common island flower, in the hands of Oâahu-based floral outfitter Voodoo Plants, packs an explosive punch with colorful blooms of psychedelic proportionsâa far cry from the monotonous red-andyellow varieties one readily associates with Hawaiâi imagery of yesteryear. Voodooâs versions are electrifying: two- or three-toned things with a visual ferocity thatâs almost physical, like the feeling of being burned or thrust forward at high speed. Imagine a stirring, deep-red center that gives way to the most mesmerizing lavender edged in a simmering hot pink that softens to pale yellow. Or a soft,
Malulani Pia Kaitoku and Ryan Kalaniakea Quick started Voodoo Plants in 2020 and specialize in psychedelic hybrid blooms.
silky shade that swirls in as lilac and swirls out a velvety gray, with sleek, creamy white petals and a golden stamen rooted in a shock of deep raspberry magenta that is so saccharine you can almost taste it.
Then, there are the hibiscus flowersâ shapes, which have their own sartorial flair. Some balloon out in undulating waves like layers of fluffed silk in a petticoat. Others proffer just a single layer of petals, each smooth on one edge with a wisp of a ruffle where it overlaps with the adjacent petal, creating a natural seam as delicate as a lace-edged skirt. Itâs no wonder that the Voodoo name has been generating buzz. Otherworldly and outrageous, these are botanicals that demand your attention. âWe love to see the joy from people and the shock factor when people react to these flowers,â says co-founder Ryan Kalaniakea Quick, who started Voodoo Plants with Kyrsten Malulani Pia Kaitoku. âOnce you have a hibiscus, [you go] out every single morning just to see which flower is opening. It kind of just gets you up and gets people excited.â
In the realm of botany, some things take time and fastidious care to bloom, while others seemingly sprout with abandon when you least expect it. Some very special, unusual, and unique phenomena, however, require a little bit of both. So it was for Voodoo Plants.
The duoâs journey into the floral industry began as a simple hobby during lockdown in 2020. In a time of unspeakable transition, amid the chaos of a global pandemic, prodigal islanders Kaitoku and Quick found themselves knee-deep in soil, nurturing an unexpected passion that would bloom into something truly extraordinary. First they started with cultivating âweirdâ vegetables, Kaitoku remembers, the sort youâd never stumble upon at the local grocer, like purplegreen tomatoes. With practically no knowledge about horticulture, Kaitoku and Quick planted all the seeds they owned, thinking only a few might sprout. To their surprise, every vegetable seed sprung to life, sparking a curiosity that led the self-taught beginners into the wild and winsome world of tropical floriculture.
That course eventually led to the protean realm of the queenly hibiscus. â[It] just became our obsession,â says Kaitoku, attributing their fixation to âthe showy flowers and all of the different combinations you can do. Thereâs just a whole range of colors.â
Experimental hybridization quickly followed, and the dyad began combining different varieties into brilliant detonations of pigment like two artists playing with paint. With no formal training (Kaitokuâs background is as a chef, Quickâs is as a landscaper), they relied on trial and error, fueled by a passion for exploration and a healthy dose of YouTube tutorials. Together, they approached their newfound hobby unbound by convention or expectation. Their efforts soon bore fruit, as their unique hybrids began to garner favor within the local community.
Voodoo Plants has received an outpouring of support for their creations, beloved by island flower enthusiasts and gardeners. The visual intensity of these moody and melodramatic blossoms also makes them ideal for showstopping lei and flower art, and with Voodooâs bloom box, which comes with a variety of statement-making stems, makers can let their imaginations run wild.
As for the future, the duo have big plans. Theyâve recently expanded Voodooâs operations, purchasing a patch of land in WaimÄnalo that they want to convert into a U-cut flower farm, nursery, and community gathering space. Lining the road at the front fence of the property
At the floral farm in WaimÄnalo, guests can view vibrant hybrids borne out of Kaitoku and Quickâs pandemic-era home experimentation.
are their notable hybrid hibiscuses; inside sit a cluster of plots with a variety of other blooms, where chickens cluck cheerfully around the perimeter. At the back of the property, a cleared field is the site of a planned grove for another iconic local flower. âWeâre going to dive into plumerias now!â Quick exclaims.
With more growth in sight, Voodoo Plants doesnât plan to abandon its work of slinging singular and strange florals and concocting unusual hybrids for its ardent fans anytime soon. âItâs our passion. Weâre very natureoriented, very outdoorsy people,â Quick says, describing the practice of tending to flowers and cleaving close to the land as a form of therapy. And when natureâs your medium, the opportunities for growth are endless. âOnce you think youâve seen them all, you see another, and you just fall in love all over again. The list goes on with the varieties that can be made.â
Ichijiku pulls on the threads of a cherished craft to weave something new.
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Down a narrow, nondescript road not far from Yoyogi Park, the unassuming exterior of Ichijiku Gallery belies the treasures within. On first glance, youâd never guess that through the glass doors and up a flight of steps awaits a prized collectionânot of gold or jewels, but of kimono fabric.
There are few cultural costumes more recognizable than Japanâs kimono. The garment has transcended its literal meaning, âthing to wear,â to become a revered form of iconography. Despite its enshrined significance, however, kimono culture is fading. Textile arts associated with the kimono, from the production of Åshima-tsumugi,
Ichijikuâs suits are a timeless luxury that stands apart in todayâs world of throwaway trends.
a fine Japanese silk, to the textile dyeing technique katazome, are in drastic decline, threatening the loss of thousands of years of crafting knowledge. The survival of these art forms may now depend on one thing: whether or not they can adapt.
Some may balk at the idea of changing something as traditional as the kimono, wishing instead to keep Japanâs cultural costume in stasis. Others, like Ichijikuâs founder, Aaron Mollin, know change is necessary to keep kimono craftsmanship alive.
Ichijiku began at a crossroads in Mollinâs life. At 34 years old, he left behind a career in law and was retracing his steps from his days as a college exchange student in Kyoto. âI had the opportunity to examine my life and think about what I wanted to do next,â Mollin says. He was in search of his ikigai, his sense of purposeâa future that could weave together his creativity and his admiration for Japan. Luckily, Mollin still had connections in the city, leading him to a serendipitous meeting with a former restaurateur from Kyotoâs Gion district.
The answer to Mollinâs search was quite literally laid out before him in the form of an extraordinary 30-piece kimono collection. Over the course of three hours, the restaurateur relayed every story and technique behind her vast collection of traditional garments before handing it all over to Mollin for the inconceivably low sum of 5,000 yen, approximately 50 dollars. For Mollin, it was a eureka moment. âClearly, I had not shown kimono the requisite amount of attention. I had no idea just how incredible they were,â he says. If he, a long standing Japanophile, had overlooked the history and craftsmanship behind kimono, he was certain that others had too.
Simply reselling the garments wasnât enough for Mollin. Instead, he was determined to create something new. He discovered a few instances of suits made from kimono, but he was baffled to find that they featured only the subdued tones characteristic of menâs kimono fabric. Nearly indistinguishable from a traditional wool suit, they preserved none of the kimonoâs ornateness nor the intricate embroidery or dyeing visible on the womenâs kimono he had procured. He decided then that Ichijiku would stand as a keeper of craftsmanship, creating bespoke apparel that exalts the beauty of one of Japanâs most iconic garments.
At first, Mollin was turned away by tailors in both Japan and his home country of Canada, all of whom were unwilling to deconstruct the garments, finding them cumbersome and unlikely to yield the right amount of
Utilizing vintage tanmono and the skills of contemporary artisans and textile designers, Ichijiku is committed to perpetuating Japanâs traditional textile craft.
fabric for a suit. Then, just as he was ready to give up, âwhen I believed it to be impossible,â he says, a fortuitous meeting with a Japanese tailor showed him a new path. He was advised to consider tanmono instead, the bolts of narrow-loomed cloth used to make kimono. âI realized that these kimono have a life before they become kimono, and itâs in the form of the fabric,â he says. A friend in the kimono industry provided him with a roll of tanmono produced by his company, one woven using a technique known as Nishijin-ori. âIn addition to the fabric being symbolic of the strength of our friendship, it also provided me an opportunity to learn about how durable kimono fabrics could beâand that certain weaves, like Nishijin-ori, could be used for suiting,â he recalls. âFrom that roll, the first Ichijiku suit was born, and it was a thing of beauty.â
This process became the brandâs blueprint. Today, Ichijikuâs offerings are made almost entirely from womenâs kimono and tanmono, transforming traditionally feminine garments and fabrics into suits and bomber jackets. That isnât to say his brand is menâs only. Though the suit jacket is inherently more popular among men, Mollin has always thought of his brand as unisex. The common thread among his clientele is âa deep appreciation for art and fashion,â he says. âThey want something unique, and they have no issue with standing out from the crowdâif anything, they prefer to.â
Ichijikuâs well-appointed showroom in Shibuya feels less like a store and more like a stylish living spaceâthat is, until Mollin pulls back a large sliding door to reveal Ichijikuâs proverbial treasure chest. The storeâs back wall is adorned with millions of dollarsâ worth of tanmono, rolled, stacked, and ready for inspection. Alongside them are mannequins showcasing Ichijikuâs impeccably tailored suits.
âEvery single tanmono here is one I have personally selected, that I have been immediately attracted to,â Mollin says. While sourcing, he prioritises fabric heâs never seen before, or regions and techniques new for the brand, in hopes of building âthe most diverse collection of kimono fabric in the world.â Mollin takes immense pride in his understanding of the fabrics, discussing certain rolls with excitement and taking great care when handling the tanmono he has collected over the years.
âWe donât waste any fabric here. Even the smallest scraps we keep, and we create these pieces,â he says, gesturing to the scarf wrapped around his neck. Atop a base of red silk, scraps of leftover tanmono are stitched together with gold thread, a nod to kintsugi, another revered Japanese art form. The scarves function as âmemories of past pieces that weâve made,â Mollin says. âEvery one of these was a roll of fabric we have turned into a jacket and given a new lease on life.â
Though sustainability is a pillar of the brand, Mollin knows that working exclusively with vintage fabric isnât the most sustainable approach for ensuring the longevity of the industry itself. âIf youâre just focusing on vintage fabrics, youâre not really supporting any of the existing fabric makers,â he says. Beyond sourcing vintage tanmono, Mollin has increasingly worked with established and emerging kimono fabric makers, forming relationships with artisans from Kyoto, Amami Åshima, and other culturally significant regions.
Reminiscent of the Japanese concept of âunmei no akai itoââthe red thread of fate that connects two individuals who are destined to meetâan Ichijiku garment is a tangible link between its wearer and all who have had a hand in the garmentâs creation. Entwining the past, present, and future of Japanâs textile culture, each piece is a wearable embodiment of everything Mollin is striving to achieve: an ode to traditional craftsmanship and a bid to ensure the continued survival of a cherished craft.
Rocket Ahunaâs latest collection invokes the raw majesty of his native Kauaâi.
Styled by Puna
Produced by Aja Toscano
Hair and Makeup by Risa Hoshino
Hair and Makeup Assistance by Jayel Saito
Photography by Nani Welch Keliâihoâomalu
Designed by Rocket Ahuna
Joon
Among the storied peaks and lush scenery of Limahuli Garden and Preserve in HÄâena, Kauaâi, designer Rocket Ahuna unveiled his most personal project to date: Limahuli, a collection for spring/summer 2025 inspired by the pastoral landscapes of his childhood and an ode to his home island of Kauaâi.
ï£ On Lei Wann (left), pre-dyed âÅahi dress. On Paâula Chandler (right), modelâs own peâahi lau.
The collection featured looks such as a tailored palaka suit, a neon orange muâu draped over foliageprint camouflage pants, and a lau hala-inspired woven silk bodice. It was a mix of rugged island aesthetics and graceful demi-couture pieces peppered with Easter eggs from Ahunaâs Native Hawaiian heritageâan emerging signature of the designerâs fledgling brand. âThe Rocket Ahuna garment will give you kaona (hidden meanings),â Ahuna says. âIt will give you layers.â
ï¢ On Ginger Lacock, hunting muâu and camo cargo pants.
ï£ On Tahaki Papke, hau âcapeâ suit.
ï¡ On Noah Saint Laurent, brown palaka doublebreasted blazer.
ï£ On Nativa Law, hÄ«nano wedding dress.
As his sophomore ready-to-wear collection, Limahuli was a means for the designer to expand his repertoire while staying true to his vision for a Hawaiian-led brand. âIâm learning how to create more of a range for myself,â Ahuna says. âThis is a continuation of my admiration for the place that Iâve grown up with, but now Iâm curious to adapt these ideas into something more for the rest of the world.â
ï¢ On Keani Olanolan, two-scale gingham muâu with leg-of-mutton sleeves.
In the 14 years since the release of Jiro Dreams of Sushi, the documentary film that highlighted the precise devotion of sushi master Jiro Ono, whose Michelin-starred restaurant operates out of a Tokyo subway station, omakase sushi counters have proliferated across the U.S. But few cities have quite the range of Honoluluâs omakase, where youâll find sushi chefs holding court in sports bars and The Ritz-Carlton, and background soundtracks that range from pop music to worshipful silence. Joining an already robust à la carte sushi restaurant scene, about two dozen omakase-only counters have opened in Honolulu in recent years. Here are two among the most lauded, where the sushi chefs obsess over the rice and vinegar as much as the seafood, and where the service matches the quality of the fare.
Sushi Sho
âThe sushi counter is a really intimate space for the chef and customer,â Yasushi Zenda says through a translator. âThereâs nothing else [like it] where you could make sushi with your bare hands and then serve it to the customer and see their reaction.â Itâs this intimacy that drew Zenda to apprentice at sushi restaurants in Tokyo since he was 16 years old, eventually following Keiji Nakazawaââone of the most influential sushi masters in the world,â the New York Times declaredâto Sushi Sho in Hawaiâi.
At Sushi Sho, chef Yasushi Zenda utilizes Edomae-style techniques to elevate the restaurantâs omakase offerings.
Nakazawa was renowned for reviving Edomaestyle sushi, finding that old techniques once meant for preservation, such as pickling and aging fish, also concentrated and developed flavor. Nearly 30 years after debuting his first restaurant in Tokyo in 1989, Nakazawa moved to Honolulu, interested in the challenge of working with Hawaiâiâs local ingredients. The 10-seat counter he opened in The Ritz-Carlton Waikiki Beach quickly became one of Honoluluâs hardest reservations to snag. When he left a few years ago to open a New York City location, Zenda, whom Nakazawa used to call âthe scientist,â took over.
Nakazawaâs spirit still guides the details at Sushi Sho. The procession of about 25 courses (for $400 a person) alternates between small bites and sushi. In one of the first dishes, lengths of Japanese sardine are wrapped around julienned cucumber, ginger, and heart of palm, then sliced like a maki roll, revealing a cross section resembling a stained-glass window. Fluffy shreds of crab are topped with powdered, vinegared egg yolk. The monkfish liver is paired with a shaving of pickled baby watermelon, picked at the size of a plum and marinated for three yearsâa foil to the liverâs lushness. Fillets of greeneye fish, its skin crisped with heat, are dotted with pops of finger lime. And then, as part of the okonomi sectionâif the first act of dinner is the chefâs choice, then the second is the dinerâs, with à la carte add-onsâtwoweek aged bluefin tuna belly, exemplifying the Edomae techniques Sushi Sho is known for.
Particularly attentive sushi connoisseurs will note that the vinegars in the shari, or sushi rice, change in relation to the fish. A richer fish, such as chutoro, requires a bolder red vinegar, while delicate crab meat is paired with a lighter white vinegar. Throughout dinner, Zendaâs support chefs frequently call out for a new batch of shari from the back kitchen to ensure it is always at the perfect temperature.
Since helming Sushi Sho, Zenda has made small adjustments here and there, mostly by instinctâchanges barely noticeable to the casual observer. His relentless experiments have resulted in cooking the rice (a blend of Yumepirika from Hokkaido and Tamaki from California) with a combination of Evian and Contrex mineral waters, which he says gives the shari a slightly firmer texture and keeps the flavor in the grains. He notes the difference in the taste of tuna each yearâthis year, he finds it sweeter than previous years, when it was more acidic, and adjusts its preparation accordingly. The
F black cod, which he served glazed and sprinkled with sansho pepper when I went, he initially found below his exacting standards. He went to Santa Barbara and spoke directly with the fisherman, convincing him to undertake the ike jime method, a series of steps meant to quickly disrupt the fishâs brain and spinal cord and quickly bleed out the fish, which helps preserve the flavor and texture of the flesh.
Other changes are in subtle displays of showmanship. Behind the counter, the chefs now toast strips of nori over a small charcoal fire, and they chop fish finely for the tuna tartare in front of guests. Itâs particularly delightful to watch them chill and slice the slippery, glistening noodles made from kudzu flour, which was among the dessert options on the night of my visit. âI want the customer to enjoy the taste and also enjoy watching,â Zenda says. Itâs the reason he was drawn to sushi in the first place, and he uses the space to close the distance between himself and his diners even furtherâbut not too much.
âPart of sitting at the counter is the little nervousness between customer and chef, the tension,â he says. While a chef in an open kitchen faces the vulnerability of having every movement scrutinized by the diner, so, too, does the diner. I found myself seated next to three regulars who could have easily become rowdy and taken over the atmosphere of the room. And yet, while they were clearly enjoying themselves, they kept their voices low. The chefs, modeling attentiveness and respect, brought out the same in us, the diners.
Zenda says heâs always âlooking for the spaces in betweenââthe space between what an ingredient is and what it could be, the space between courses, the space between customers. The quality he puts forth is undeniable, but itâs this extra attentiveness that elevates the meal beyond food to an art form and act of exquisite hospitality.
Sushi Gyoshin
During the day, on busy Piâikoi Street, Sushi Gyoshin lies hidden behind an unmarked black door. Only in the evening does the restaurant announce itself, the name printed discreetly on a noren curtain that owner Hiroshi Tsuji hangs outside the entrance just before the first seating. Inside, the sushi counter seats eight, a slim altar where diners go to worship, for âGyoshinâ means âfish god.â
I am welcomed almost immediately with Tsujiâs signature monakaâtwo crisp wafers cradling seafood that might include finely diced toro or Hokkaido snow crab topped with uni. The $150 set of 15 courses then progresses through a series of seasonal appetizers: in the winter, perhaps shirako (cod milt) combined with kudzu starch to create a soft and creamy tofu, or in the
spring, firefly squid, each the size of a thumb, bathed in ginger sauce. Between the first act and procession of sushi, Tsuji displays the fish yet to come: blushpink slabs of toro and silvery kohada, its skin glinting in the light. The fatty yet firm kinmedai arrives with its skin lightly torched, and sweet and crunchy mirugai is finely scored and belted to a lozenge of rice. Throughout Tsujiâs omakase are modern flourishes: a dab of caviar on a prawn, saba smoked under a dome and unveiled with a dramatic swirl.
Tsuji is the sole chef at Gyoshin, which he opened in early 2024. He grew up in Toyama, on the west coast of Japan, and was drawn to the âstature of the sushi chefs,â he says through a translator. Throughout his 20-year career, he learned sushi and washoku (traditional Japanese cuisine), with its emphasis on harmony and seasonality. He intended to go to Europe âto become a better chef,â he says, but then a friend working at Rinka in Hawaiâi reached out to him, asking him to come. âRight away,â he told his friend, without hesitation.
After about five years working at Rinka at Ward and Yoshitsune in WaikÄ«kÄ«, he decided he wanted his own small space where he could develop a relationship with his diners. At Gyoshin, there is little separation between customer and chef; we are close enough to hear the satisfying crack as the nori is sliced, close enough to see the edges of fish flesh curl up as Tsuji scores it. It can feel like a one-man show, but itâs not merely a performance. Tsujiâs devotion to the sushi is clear. For his shari, he mixes two varieties: Sasanishiki for texture and Nanatsuboshi
As owner and sole chef, Hiroshi Tsuji dictates Sushi Gyoshinâs repertoire of omakase with modern flourishes.
for sweetness. He then seasons the rice with a blend of three different vinegars, ranging in maturity from three to ten years, to achieve his desired level of acidity. âThe shari defines the quality of the experience,â he says. âIf the neta (topping) is good but shari is not prepared with proper care, the sushi will not be delicious.â
At Kuilei Place, every element has been carefully considered.
Customizable interiors, environmentally friendly design, extensive amenities, and a premier location allow residents of the one-, two-, and three-bedroom homes to thrive. In each residence, natural light and floor-to-ceiling windows create a warm and welcoming space. Our commitment to sustainability shines through with Energy Star lighting and appliances, centralized solar hot water heating, EV car sharing, Level 3 EV fast charging stations, and an innovative greywater treatment system.
Experience
Elevated Island Living
Homeowners can indulge in a variety of gathering and recreational spaces, including reservable barbecue cabanas, club rooms, and penthouse level private dining suites âone of which features its own karaoke lounge.
Beyond our community, residents enjoy easy access to a wealth of historic neighborhoods, schools, and recreational destinations such as Kapiâolani Park, WaikÄ«kÄ«, and KaimukÄ«.
