Luau Banh Mi with Mock Pulled Pork

In the land of luaus, a vegetarian can get a raw deal. Think of meat free dining in Hawaii and you'll conjure an image of poi, the starchy mush of ground ground taro root. However, with the help of another piece of island grown flora, you can get close to the island experience while keeping those adorable Hawaiian porkers intact.

I speak, of course, of jackfruit. Hailing from Southeast Asia, this spiky vessel is the largest tree-born fruit, growing as large as 80 pounds. Jackfruit is traditionally eaten ripe, after it has developed a sweet fleshy casing around the numerous chestnut sized seeds within. For our purposes, however, we will need an unripe jackfruit, bright green in color, and whose seeds are mere pips. More important is the lack of sweetness present in these unripe specimens, allowing us to use the normally discarded flesh of the fruit as the base for our meat analog.

I had the good fortune to come across a perfectly sized jackfruit at the weekly farmer's market in Kilauea. If you don't happen to be in the tropics, canned jackfruit in brine can be used just as effectively. We start by oiling all tools and work surfaces thoroughly; the jackfruit is incredibly sticky. A neutral oil like coconut or vegetable will work best, and coating your knife, cutting board, and hands in the oil you choose will make clean up infinitely more easy. Begin by removing the skin and shopping the fruit into cubes about an inch in size. If you are using canned jackfruit, wash it in a few changes of water. Toss the jackfruit into a slow cooker along with a couple cloves of minced garlic and a healthy slathering of barbecue sauce. Keep this mixture simmering for between two and three hours, until the flesh of the fruit falls apart at the touch.

From here the applications are only limited by your imagination. In the spirit of the pacific I decided on a Banh Mi, a typical Vietnamese sandwich, with a Hawaiian twist. A toasted French roll is coated in chili mayonnaise (or a mayonnaise substitute, if you prefer), and topped with an excessive helping of our fake pork. Add cilantro to taste and you'll have a meal that will have even the Hawaiian-shirt-wearing, luau-attending carnivores in your life jealous.