In the motherland of poke, one would think mainland-style poke wouldn’t stand a chance, but it has arrived in a big way with the California-based Poké Bar, a chain that owns 30 restaurants across the country, with 20 more franchise operations … and growing.

The company was smart to open at Waikiki Beach Walk, where it can capitalize on out-of-state travelers whose experience of poke is limited to these build-your-own-salad operations with raw fish as a topping option.

Part of the entertainment value comes from listening to their orders. I overheard such questions as, “Do you have anything besides fish?” Or, “Can you tell me which sauce to use?”

No. 1, although variations abound now, fish is the main reason to walk into a poke restaurant. No. 2, any seasoned poke eater is likely to have a sauce preference and doesn’t need to be told what to order.

It all reminded me of the childhood game Chinese whispers, or the telephone game. You probably know it. It’s the one in which elementary school teachers got us to sit in a circle or stand in a line and then would whisper a sentence into the first student’s ear. That student would repeat the message to the next student, and the message would continue down the line until the last person revealed what he’d heard. Hopefully, it would be the original whisper, but it never was. Not even close. The result was always hilariously different from the original sentence.

The point is, no matter how hard we tried to get it right, the message was always garbled. That is how I feel about mainland interpretations of poke. (Based on photographs of poke from around the world, it seems there’s more cultural sensitivity abroad.) No matter how hard mainlanders try to get it right, something is lost in translation.

Part of the reason the pseudo poke operations have been so successful across the country is that they are more cost-effective than the local way, which is to have rows of dozens of different kinds of ready-made fresh-catch poke available every day. It’s a highly perishable product, and if one doesn’t sell, it can be a big loss. When customers look at the price, most understand they are paying for the quality of the fish.

With the build-your-own-salad concept, once purchasing patterns are established, there’s little waste. You order only so much ahi, salmon and tako, and if it sells out, the diner moves on to the next ingredient. The fish is only a small part of the equation, so you’re paying for the luxury of having lots of extras to choose from.

At least Poké Bar’s fish has improved from two months ago, when I received tiny, flavorless minces of ahi and salmon. Maybe some locals called them out, because in two recent visits, I found the fish now measures the 1-inch dice we expect, and adding more sauce in the end helps mend the flavor situation.

Ordering is somewhat complex, with six steps to completing your salad, and myriad topping options that I’ve seen confound friends I thought were smart.

Pricing is $12.65 for two nonmarinated fish (or tofu) choices totaling 4 ounces, or three fish (6 ounces) for $14.65. If you order spicy ahi, it isn’t mixed in with your other fish, but is presented in a scoop next to two free side options of green seaweed ocean salad and/or miso crab (surimi) salad.

You’ll first pick a bed to put it on (sushi or brown rice, greens or a combo of any two). After making your fish selections, you can choose such mix-ins as onions, corn, limu, cucumbers, edamame, cilantro, pineapple and jalapeno. Have all of the above if you want.

Next up is a splash of any or all of six sauces from ponzu to shoyu to wasabi mayo, followed by such toppings as ginger, masago, crispy onions or garlic, macadamia nuts and green onions.

Your blend then gets mushed together in throwaway cardboard dish, a procedure that will dismay environmentalists due to the volume of waste.

The local way of having poke made up in advance is more efficient service-wise, but the have-it-your-way customization does help people with allergies, or aversions to the raw or green onions in traditional poke, or those who simply like an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink approach to food.

I have to admit it’s fun to build a salad, and having it turn out well feels rewarding. The salad becomes only as good as you build it.

It took me three tries to get it right to my taste, and my salad now starts with half sushi rice topped with furikake and half greens with miso crab, spicy ahi and “poke” of ahi and salmon, or ahi and tako, with limu, corn, edamame, onions and cilantro, and sauces of shoyu and spicy or wasabi mayo. Then I top it with avocado for $1.50 more.

The bottom line is all this does make a really tasty salad, but it’s random. Authentic poke makers take pride in their recipes, and you need only compare Poké Bar to the best homegrown poke establishments to get a sense of the confident, austere beauty of traditional Hawaiian poke made only with limu, sea salt and inamona.

As someone who constantly worries about the future, I can already see the day when people who grow up with this salad-bar experience of poke will come here and wonder why our poke bowls are so simple and fish-centric. Sad.

Nadine Kam’s restaurant reviews are conducted anonymously and paid for by the Star-Advertiser. Reach her at nkam@staradvertiser.com.