Making Kalua Pork at Home or in an Imu

Hanalei Taro & Juice Co. Plate Lunch. Photo by Daniel Lane

Living on Kauai has made me a kalua pork connoisseur. When done right, the tender meat is infused with smoke and salt. Fat melts into the strands, and adds an unbeatable flavor. As Emeril Lagasse says, “Pork fat rules!”

One of my favorite comfort foods is a bowl of steamed rice with kalua pork, cabbage and poi. The combination is ubiquitous on the islands, and you can find kalua pork  at luaus, grocery stores and restaurants, but most of it is not true kalua pork.

Cutting up banana leaves and trunks for the imu. Daniel Lane photo

The literal translation of kalua, is “to bake in the ground oven,” known in Hawaii as an imu. It’s a luxury to dig a six-foot long, 4-foot wide, and 3-foot deep pit in the middle of your property, so most restaurants make it in the oven with satisfactory results.

Having kalua directly from an imu is a special treat, and unless you have friends with connections, the only way you can enjoy it at home, is to buy kalua-like pork from a grocery store. I have seen two brands in the frozen section. One is in a bright-yellow 12 ounce container called “Keoki’s Kalua Brand Pork”, and one is in a bright-pink container called “Ono Ono Kalua Brand Pork”. This will do in a pinch, and we prefer the Ono Ono Brand.

Daniel Lane photo

While covering M & H Kaneshiro Farms for the Kauai Grown campaign, Valerie Kaneshiro asked us to photograph her friend Kimo making kalua pork with two of her 300 pound sows

I have to warn you, these pictures may make you squeamish, but I believe in food transparency. Too many people don’t know what it takes to get real food to the table, and that’s kind of the point of this blog. If you eat meat, an animal had to be raised and slaughtered. That’s just the way it is. If you’re a vegan or vegetarian, you shouldn’t finish reading this post.

I appreciate that Valerie raises her charges with care and attention, because life matters. Factory farmed meat and fish have not been raised this way, and you will be more than squeamish if you take the time to learn where it does come from.

Daniel Lane photo

By the time Dan and I make the hour-long drive to the Westside, the pigs are delivered, and killed with a quick shot to the head. One pig lay on a table in the shade, a lady brushing at flies with a handful of ever swishing ti leaves.

In the imu, puka rocks top a bed of hot kiawe coals, sending heat shimmeres against a baby blue sky.

Cutting the joints down to fit into the baskets. Daniel Lane photo

The smell of burnt hair filled the air as the skin was thoroughly cleaned. First with a blow torch, then hard scraping with sharp knives. After that, a long, swift slice from the neck to the hind legs. The men reach inside and spill the guts into a plastic lined trash barrel.

Slathering the pig with Hanapepe sea salt. Daniel Lane photo

The pigs are cut in half so they will cook more evenly, and deep slices are made into the skin and muscle. This is packed with Hanapepe sea salt. The men lift the carcasses into wire baskets lined with tinfoil and ti leaves.

Daniel Lane photo

Puka rocks pulled from the fire are placed in the cavity with long, sturdy tongs. Ti leaves to cover, and tinfoil tucked all around.

A forklift carries the pig-leaden baskets to the imu, where they are covered in banana leaves and crushed trunks, adding flavor and moisture to the finished product. Heavy, wet tarps are laid over, followed by a plastic tarp. The edges are buried in dirt. Soon, steam raises the plastic into a taut dome. The meat is left to slowly cook for the rest of the day, and into the next.

We drive back in the morning, our mouths watering in hopeful anticipation. As we pull into the driveway, the tantalizing smell of cooked meat fills the air. The men get to work, uncovering and forklifting the treasure out.

The last stages of kalua pork. Daniel Lane photo

The crates are set on tables, and everyone plunges their hands into the hot flesh. The bones and miscellaneous bits of skin and fat are removed. Another generous helping of Hanapepe sea salt is mixed in. Long, ropy strands of succulent meat, extending about 6 inches, are cut into bite-sized pieces. Gallon freezer bags are filled and stacked.

It was near Christmas, and one pig, portioned into 3-pound bags went to Kimo, who gave the meat to family and friends. The other cooked pig was for Valerie, who did the same. As we were leaving, Kimo called Dan over.

“Here,” he said. “this is for you guys.”

It’s the end of March, and we ran out of kalua four weeks ago. So I make a satisfactory substitute at home.

Crock-Pot “Kalua” Pork
2 tablespoons Hawaiian sea salt
1, 6 pound pork butt
1 tablespoon liquid smoke

Pierce pork all over. Rub salt then liquid smoke over meat. Place roast in a slow cooker. Cover, and cook on low for 16 to 20 hours, turning once during cooking time. Remove meat from slow cooker, and shred, adding drippings as needed to moisten.