Think about the fundamentals of Hawaiian food and what immediately comes to mind is the traditional pairing of fish and poi. But that’s an incomplete picture, says Wally Ito.

“In the Hawaiian diet there is a third component: limu.”

Ito should know. He’s an expert on all things limu, or seaweed, from the conditions conducive to growing it to identifying each type and describing its flavor profile.

In his work with the Ewa Limu Project and as coordinator for the Limu Hui, Ito provides educational community outreach about limu and its restoration. The hui is part of the nonprofit Kua‘aina Ulu ‘Auamo initiative, which focuses on Hawaii’s natural and cultural heritage; the project is a grass-roots effort.

Ito is a walking limu encyclopedia. Out on the South Shore recently, in preparation for a lecture that evening, he waded through a tide pool, gathering samples of as many limu species as he could find.

Spotting one of his favorites sprouting up from under a rock, a deep green limu with thick branches called aalaula, he pinched off a piece, then swished it in the water for quick cleaning and shared it for a taste. Spongy and chewy, it had a deep, delicious flavor resembling furikake.

“Many people confuse this with the wawaeiole,” he said, pinching off another, sandier sample that did indeed resemble the aalaula. “But look at the growing pattern. It’s thick and matted, and it grows on the rock — that makes it harder to clean because there’s pieces of coral and other stuff settled on it. The aalaula is clean because it grows up from the rock, not on it.”

Also in the tide pool that day: lipeepee, a crunchy limu “good for poke — nice texture, delicious”; kahili, with sharp florets that resemble the cluster of feather plumes that decorate the kahili, the Hawaiian ceremonial standard; palahalaha, a grass-green, ribbonlike limu mild in taste that is used as filler in seaweed salad; and limu kala, a culturally important species with golden brown, sometimes spiky leaves that is eaten and worn during hooponopono, a practice of conflict resolution.

Folks who don’t go harvesting can turn to commercially grown limu sold in stores such as Tamashiro Market, Alicia’s Market, Marukai and upon request and when available at Don Quijote and Foodland. The vast majority of commercial limu is ogo, the popular multibranched seaweed with hues of red, brown or green, depending on location and growing conditions.

Manauea, commonly referred to as ogo and actually a cousin of that seaweed type, was once abundant in areas such as Ewa Beach. It was common 50 years ago for people to “pick ogo” from the shoreline, then take it home for pickling. Recipes usually involved Japanese rice vinegar, salt, sugar and sometimes shoyu, sake, onion or ebi (dried shrimp).

Chef Mark “Gooch” Noguchi recalls that local-style preparation. He says a more basic version is to simply to rinse the ogo, then toss it in salt and sugar, and “let it hang out about 30 minutes — it’s not much simpler than that.”

At the other end of the spectrum, said Noguchi, is a fancy French vierge sauce he made years ago while working at the fine-dining restaurant Chef Mavro. The sauce, comprising shallots, garlic and tomatoes and topped with finely chopped ogo, accompanies the restaurant’s beloved salt-crusted onaga.

Kealoha Domingo, an expert in traditional Hawaiian preparations, says a classic manauea recipe called for mixing it with inamona and octopus innards.

Today limu mixed in poke is the new classic. Domingo also recommends mixing ogo with tomatoes and onions and adding it to a fresh salad. Not only does the limu offer crunchy texture, but also, “Hawaii people love the flavor of the ocean, and limu lends a salty, iodine punch,” he said.

Chef Adam Tabura takes ogo way out of the box, using it as a topping for sushi, mayo-based seafood-veggie salads and shrimp scampi. He also folds chopped ogo into aioli.

Ogo that’s a few days old is dehydrated to make crackers. “I add it to lentil crackers or rice crackers, and it becomes like nori. It makes the cracker taste like the ocean,” he said.

Tabura even fries ogo. After drying it in the fridge, he lightly breads it in arrowroot and flour, then fries it in peanut oil. The finished product tops steamed fish and is chopped and tossed into mentaiko pasta.

Tabura’s wildest recipe: The fried ogo is shaped into a bird’s nest and used to serve fried poke. “It makes for a nice presentation and a nice texture,” he said.

Then there’s Ito. He’s not a chef like the others, but then he doesn’t need to be. Ask him what his favorite limu is, and he says, “Whatever you put in front of me.”

His favorite preparation: “Pick, rinse, eat.”

HOW TO HARVEST LIMU

“No limu is poisonous. It’s just a matter of taste and texture,” Wally Ito said.

Nonetheless, it’s important to know the area you’re harvesting from. Limu grows quickly, absorbing nutrients — and, likely, pathogens — through its cell walls.

“If you’re collecting limu in the Ala Wai Canal, I wouldn’t eat that. Look mauka. If they’re dumping stuff you wouldn’t want to eat, it will be in the limu,” he said, explaining that whatever is mauka of the water eventually makes its way into it.

But before all that, what about whens and hows of limu harvesting? “You’ve got to know tides, surf and wind,” Ito said.

And the proper way to pick limu: Pinch off what you need, so as not to strip the “holdfast,” the limu version of a root, from its rock. This ensures the limu will continue to grow.

These are the kinds of lessons Ito shares through community outreach as part of the Ewa Limu Project, which he runs alongside Pam and Dennis Fujii, and as coordinator of the Limu Hui. Both organizations offer education as well as seed stock and support to those seeking to restore limu in areas where it was once abundant but is no longer found.

Want to know more? Contact Ito by email at wally@kuahawaii.org.

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Ogo Namasu
Courtesy Wally Ito

• 2 pounds ogo
• 1 large sweet round onion, thinly sliced
• 3 cucumbers, thinly sliced
• >> Namasu sauce:
• 2-1/2 cups Japanese rice vinegar
• 2 cups water
• 1/2 cup sake
• Juice of 1 large lemon
• 2 cups sugar
• 3 tablespoons Hawaiian salt
• 1 ounce dried shrimp
• Chili pepper, to taste (optional)
• Grated ginger, to taste (optional)

Quickly blanch ogo. Rinse with cold water, drain well and place in extra-large bowl. Set aside.

To make sauce: Pour vinegar, water, sake and lemon juiceinto a bowl. Add sugar and salt; stir to dissolve. Add shrimp, and chili pepper and ginger, if using.

Add onion and cucumbers to ogo, pour namasu sauce over everything and mix well. Let sit at least 4 hours, but overnight is best.

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Korean Ogo Kim Chee
Courtesy Jamie Ho

• 1/2 pound ogo
• 1 cup Japanese vinegar
• 1/2 cup shoyu
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 tablespoon kochujang sauce
• 2 Hawaiian chili peppers, finely diced
• Chopped green onions, to taste
• 1 round onion, sliced
• 1/2-inch piece ginger, grated
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• 4 dried shrimp

Pour boiling water over ogo, then rinse with cold water and drain well. Place in large bowl. Set aside.

In another bowl, combine remaining ingredients. Pour over ogo. Let it sit for at least a day.

Nutritional information unavailable.