8 Food Spots Outside Honolulu Worth the Drive

“Hey, Charleston! Yellow tank top!” Adam Wade is yelling out the window of his food trailer at two stragglers who’ve joined the line. “Do me a favor and come in a little closer. Our neighbors don’t like it when we block traffic.”

The man in the South Carolina T-shirt and his friend look startled but comply. In the blazing sun off Kamehameha Highway, 10 of us wait in front of Eighty Chicken Sandwiches. Wade’s sandwiches are famous—triumphant photos of whoever scored the 80th and last one fill his Instagram every Saturday and Sunday. The couple in front of us has driven from Kailua; the father and son behind are from Japan.

A former Georgia Tech fraternity chef, Wade is a man of big flavors and precision. It doesn’t matter that he always sells out—one reason he never makes more than 80 sandwiches is because together, his and his son Dresden’s initials spell out AD. Since his fryer holds 10 pieces at a time, his queue almost always numbers 10 people. The overflow he herds into the shade of a nearby tent with the manner of a gregarious sheep dog. That’s where our wait begins, eyeing the lucky 10 lined up at the trailer. The update Wade yells from his window—“You guys in the tent! Not to worry, there are 20 sandwiches left. You will get one”—sends a wave of relief through our group. Some even high-five each other.

Now, 10 sandwiches are ready, and the line moves quickly. We pick up ours and head back to the tent. “You excited?” Wade is walking beside me, grinning. He’s on his way to collect his next group of 10.

Of course I’m excited. The sandwich is huge, the chicken twice the size of the bun and stretching to the corners of the box. It’s brined to succulence inside a crunchy, well-seasoned crust dunked in spicy, tangy sauce. On top and filling every crevice are triple-cooked fries Wade throws in by the handful.

We eat with sauce dotting our cheeks and hands. Bring wipes. Bring sunscreen. Eighty Chicken Sandwiches is worth the drive.

56-505 Kamehameha Highway, Kahuku, @eightychickensandwiches

“Max comes here all the time,” the man behind the counter says.

Max? Then I remember we’re in Mā‘ili. The MMA fighter and two-time UFC BMF champion is a West Side legend. “Holloway?”

“Yeah, Max,” he says. “He always gets the poke bowls and a sushi roll for his wife.”

T8ste Buds isn’t the only poke on the Leeward coast, but it’s the most playful. The poke-stuffed sushi tacos drew me here two years ago, when the takeout shop opened across Farrington Highway from Mā‘ili Beach Park. Now, the memory of crunchy, saucy bites of poke and rice tucked in freshly fried nori shells has brought me back.

Hawaiian-Style ‘Ahi is here, as is Spicy ‘Ahi. When you get to the Salmon Tacos, ricochets begin that leave conventional poke behind—like fresh salmon, salmon skin and ikura amid eruptions of garlic aioli, sesame oil and ponzu caramel. The Westside Sushi Taco is my new favorite: spicy ‘ahi, masago and cucumber under crisscrossing drizzles of aioli and unagi sauce, with Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and a raft of Spam underneath.

There are wilder sushi rolls—the Shenron is a kitchen sink of shrimp tempura, spicy ‘ahi, imitation crab, avocado and Hot Cheetos—and sushi sandwiches, which are exactly as they sound. But I’m a sucker for the fried crunch.

The man behind the counter says some customers come from Waimānalo and Kāne‘ohe. “Where you from?” he asks.

“I’m from town.”

“Oh! You need water?” There are bottles for sale, but he motions for my Hydro Flask. “I can fill up your thermos. We have really good filtered water here.”

I like T8ste Buds.

87-070 Farrington Highway, Mā‘ili, (808) 347-8818, t8stebuds808.com, @t8stebuds_hi

Dishes you’ll find at Waikele’s country club restaurant: kālua pork nachos, Reuben sandwiches, butterfish teishoku, crispy pata, sizzling kalbi with kim chee, nabeyaki udon.

There is zero pretension at this golf course eatery that’s open to the public, where the dress code ranges from aloha shirts and cocktail dresses to T-shirts and slippers. Family parties fill the open dining room, a big-screen TV shows a game no one is watching, and the lānai overlooking the golf course is empty. The restaurant is a throwback to the era of local diners, where portions were massive and the food simple and comforting.

For meaty, get the gravy-drenched hamburger steaks. For zesty, spring for the house-made kim chee. For a serene view of sunset over the Wai‘anae Range, ask for a table and tablecloth on the lānai. And dig in.

94-200 Paioa Place, Waikele, (808) 676-9000, golfwaikele.com/restaurant

Andrea Smith’s cookies are ethereal. They’re alfajores, caramelly dulce de leche nestled between heart-shaped cookies so delicate that on the palate, they crumble like buttery clouds. They’re popular in her native Colombia and throughout South and Central America.

On O‘ahu, where you’ll find them at Mercado de la Raza, Mari’s Gardens and online at Farm Link and her own website, Smith’s Aloha Alfajores have a following. But she’s never had a place of her own. In the four years since she started as an Instagram pop-up in ‘Ewa Beach, Smith has made her cookies in rented commercial kitchens. Today, she’s readying a 500-square-foot space that in the fall would become her very own production kitchen.

“The alfajores are gonna be here, and the dulce de leche brownies,” she says, waving her hands toward a corner she’s setting aside for walk-in customers. “I’m also gonna have obleas (thin waffle cookies with fresh cream, strawberries and dulce de leche sandwiched between) and arroz con leche and dulce de leche ice cream with alfajor cookies inside. It’s super creamy.”

She’ll make obleas when customers come in and order them. She’s thinking of adding coffee since it goes perfectly with her sweets.

“I’m gonna put my menu in the window and the logo here,” she says. “I’m gonna have probably one chair so people can wait in case they want an oblea.”

If you go, know that Aloha Alfajores is on Mango Place, not Mango Street, next to a tattoo parlor. Check Instagram for the latest hours. And get the alfajores.

52 Mango Place, Wahiawā, (808) 445-1111, alohalfajoresllc.com, @alohalfajores

The Willy Wonka wonderland appeal of Frost, one of O‘ahu’s last remaining self-serve frozen yogurt bars, envelops you at night, when psychedelic lights twine over toppings bars and icicles twinkle from the ceiling. The setup is immediately familiar: a wall of froyo taps; all the fruits, cookies, sprinkles, candies, cereals, nuts and gummies you could want; an M&M dispenser; and a row of syrups you never knew you needed (peanut butter and marshmallow and chocolate, oh my!). Before you know it, you’re reaching for a cup.

Not so long ago, self-serve froyo bars were in every urban and suburban neighborhood. Most are gone now, the way favorite songs disappear from radio playlists. At Frost, where a corner of plushies and pillows invites kids, and high-top counters draw high schoolers to seniors, it all comes rushing back in a heaping bowl of nostalgia and impulse.

43 Oneawa St., Kailua, (808) 263-3368, @frostkailua

F&M Snack Shop is in an unlikely spot for an after-school store. It’s where times have brought us—far from the dusty storefronts where kids used to stop for ice cakes on the walk home—to a corner of a mall between Longs Drugs and Planet Fitness. It’s where kids come with grownups who pick them up from school. And who can blame them? Rows of crack seed jars fill half the store, Labubus sit on shelves and there’s a claw machine by the door.

And Snow Ice. At F&M, Snow Ice is milk ice. Frozen with syrups in flavors like mango, honeydew and matcha, it’s shaved into fine, creamy mountains rimmed with fruit and capped with whipped cream. Chocolate Snow Ice comes with sprinkles and Oreos. Liliko‘i Snow Ice wears a crown of Fruity Pebbles.

From the trickle of grownups waiting for seedless rock salt plum and honey wet lemon to those sitting down with Snow Ices, adults can outnumber kids, even after school. And who can blame them?

86-120 Farrington Highway, Wai‘anae, (808) 888-2337, @fmsnack

Dosas star on the menu at Ganesh. They’ve traveled far—not just from Ward Avenue, where Ganesh started in a 10-by-10-foot slot at ‘Ohana Hale Marketplace five years ago, but from upstate New York, where co-owner Pablo Muller discovered the stuffed flatbreads while studying yoga at an ashram, and centuries before that, from South India. Much of this history is rolled inside these dosas: a thin batter of lightly fermented basmati rice and black gram beans smoothed across a hot griddle; rows of fillings added swiftly down the middle; the sides folded up and then the whole thing, golden-brown and bready and crisp, sliced in half with an audible crackle.

Traditional masala spiced potatoes are classic; variations with goat cheese, avocado and kalamata olives less so. If in doubt, get the dosa with everything. Tear off bite-size pieces, dunk in gingery coconut or tomato chutney, eat with your hands. It goes without saying they are worth a drive over the Pali.

315 Uluniu St., Kailua, (808) 762-7517, ganeshdosa.com, @ganeshdosa

Shoyu hot dogs sell out first. Then there’s namasu, kalbi tofu, miso chicken, somen salad, fried pork chops—a lineup standard for any okazuya, until you get to the kale salad and ube ‘ulu hash. Nani’s Café ticks all the boxes and a lot more.

O‘ahu’s newest okazuya opened in July in the heart of this quiet North Shore town. It shares a parking lot with a post office, feed store, pizza restaurant and yoga studio. Much of the food is discreetly vegetarian, including the Okinawan potato salad and nishime. Plus there’s coffee, pastries and Green River slushies. The totality is a subliminal invitation to slow down and stay. Which you should.

Kanani Oury owns Nani’s Café with her auntie Kanani Oliveiria. Here’s her story, edited for brevity:

“Anyone from Waialua or Hale‘iwa that’s over the age of 30 knows about Sagara’s. It’s from when my mom was a little kid to when I was an adult. It was $1 for a shoyu hot dog and rice wrapped up in paper. We would get that before school or cut school and jump the fence and get a feast for lunch.

“Now, Waialua has three or four burger joints and a bunch of taco trucks. The only place you can get local food is L&L. I wanted something that was more for us. I wanted to give my kids something that I felt was missing and was a little bit healthier.

“When we opened, people were bringing us old cookbooks from the ’70s and ’80s and telling me, ‘Kanani, use this.’ Those books had recipes from everyone in the different camps. The old-timers from my grandma’s generation were like, ‘Eh Kanani, you know, you need a little more vinegar in your namasu.’ And we adjusted. Kathy from across the harbor, she’s like 85 years old, and she used to chase me because I always picked her roses. She was bringing me stuff she cooked and saying, try this.

“The other day, a lady in her 70s came in and I said, ‘I’m so sorry, we’re sold out.’ She said, ‘I know.’ A man was going down her street honking and yelling that we sold out. She came to congratulate us.

“It’s been unexpected. It’s not about business, but the way it makes you feel.”

67-292 Goodale Ave., Waialua, (808) 637-6373, naniscafe.com, @nanishapacafe