The taro plant has fed Asia for longer than can be remembered. As people moved throughout the land, and over the waters, they carried their precious taro plants with them. There is little doubt that Hawaii’s first Polynesian settlers made plenty of room for taro on their ocean going vessels.

Hawaiians added to the story of taro with a gentle, bittersweet tale of a stillborn baby, and the first taro plant growing from its burial plot. Fortunately, the second son of the family flourished, and he became the first Hawaiian. Never, though, did he forget either his deceased brother, or the original taro plant that grew from the baby’s grave. According to lore, the first Hawaiian, Hāloa, believed that everything was related; from the people, to the plants, as well as the land itself, and that all things depended on each other. 

So naturally, taro, known as kalo in Hawaiian, holds a significant cultural, as well as agricultural importance in the islands. Taro has been a staple crop, a dietary cornerstone for Hawaiians for centuries. It is a powerhouse of nutrition, an excellent source of potassium, carbohydrates,  fiber and vitamins. Yes, raw, it is considered to be poisonous as its tissues contain an acrid component, but when well cooked, taro is safe to eat.

Taro is more than poi — the thick, purple paste made by pounding cooked taro roots, then mixing them with water. Additionally, taro is used in dishes like lau lau: pork, fish, or chicken wrapped in taro leaves and steamed. It’s also used to make poi mochi, kulolo, and taro chips. It is a versatile ingredient for both savory and sweet dishes.  

Despite efforts, some varieties of the taro plant have been lost over the years. Researchers estimate that early Hawaiians may have cultivated more than 150 different varieties of taro. Some were for medicinal purposes, while others were used in ceremonies. Most of the taro was used for food, although the pink variety was supposedly reserved for the taste buds of royalty.

Families on Kauai take pride in tending their taro patches, passing on knowledge and techniques from the elders to the youngsters. Working in the loi kalo is not considered to be just labor; it is a connection to the land and to ancestors. It is one way of preserving Hawaiian identity in modern times. 

Over the years, Hawaiians have remembered to honor both their ancestors and their culture. Ever since Captain Cook first set foot on Kauai, opening the door for both whalers and missionaries, a battle has been waged by obstinate people refusing to ignore their heritage, in spite of pressures to move past old-fashioned ways.

Maybe everyone should remember those who came before. Why not grab a bowl of poi, and send a salute to your ancestors — they won’t mind your sticky fingers.