Honolulu

Make a night of appetizers

by Margaret LeRoux

Honolulu Restaurant Route 9, Westborough 366-1717 Hours Mon.-Tues. 11:30 a.m.-8:30 p.m. Wed.-Sat. 11:30 a.m.-midnight Sun. noon-midnight Major credit cards Full bar Handicap accessible

Do you remember your first egg roll? Mine was a thick, fat, greasy wonton stuffed with chopped celery, a little bit of pork, and a lot of mystery ingredients. It came hot from the fryer on a stemmed, stainless-steel platter that looked like a miniature cake plate, and was served with hot mustard and sweet-and-sour sauces in tiny, porcelain dishes decorated with lotus blossoms. I burned the roof of my mouth at my first greedy bite, and downed a whole glass of water after trying the hot mustard.

That was at Bob's Chop Suey House, which was above Woolworth's, in my hometown in northern Wisconsin. Bob's served up Americanized dishes such as chow mein, chop suey, and eggs foo yung. If, like me, your introduction to Chinese food was at one of those Cantonese restaurants, you probably have fond memories of the experience too. In the days before Szechwan, Hunan, or even Pacific rim cooking became popular, many of us considered moo goo gai pan and Peking duck pretty exotic fare.

Though it's been years since I ate at Bob's, I remember exactly what it looked like, from the embroidered silk, bird of paradise wall hangings to the none-too-clean linoleum floor. If there were more than six in your party, you got to eat in one of six individual dining rooms off a long hallway to the kitchen, where we frequently heard shouting between cooks and waiters.

All this reminiscing was brought on by a recent visit to Honolulu. A friend persuaded us to dine at the place where he was introduced to Oriental cuisine -- in this case, Polynesian food -- some 30 years ago.

Back then, Honolulu was always packed with people eager to try the latest trend; today, the crowd is a lot more sparse. The restaurant's exotic Polynesian decor, however, remains unchanged: lots of red paint and carved-wood masks. In the middle of the first of two dining rooms is a giant hut with a thatched roof, accommodating a half-dozen tables. Our friend says when he was just a kid he loved to eat inside what he called Gilligan's hut.

A team of Chinese waiters dressed in colorful Polynesian shirts takes and dispenses orders like pros -- many of them have been here for more than 20 years.

The four of us got right down to business, ordering mai tais ($4.15) and a piña colada ($4.25). The mai tais were especially potent, and my only complaint about the piña colada was that it didn't come with a little paper umbrella.

I recognized several of my old favorites from Bob's on Honolulu's menu. And the prices will take you back, too: beef chop suey ($5.05), shrimp chow mein ($6.75), sub gum chicken chow mein ($5.75), sweet-and-sour pork ($6.35), and egg foo yong ($4.75).

The appetizers, though, were the high point of the evening. Our friend promised that Honolulu's crab rangoon ($4.95) were the best he'd eaten, and I'd have to agree. Not only were the crispy wontons not greasy, but unlike many a crab rangoon I've had, these actually contained bits of crab. Plus, they were seasoned with just enough garlic to give them a bit of complexity. I'd have happily eaten a plate of these by myself.

I had to be persuaded to try my friend's favorite Honolulu appetizer, cheese tonga ($4.35). The menu description is more than a little off putting: "creamy white sauce with American cheese rolled in a thin crepe, coated with bread crumbs." The whole concoction is then deep fried; the large, crispy rolls look like giant mozzarella sticks. But cheese tongas are much tastier -- really! -- and more filling than your average mozzarella stick. We hoped the alcohol in the drinks counteracted all that cholesterol.

We tried one of the Polynesian specialties, kailua beef ($9.25). And we ordered two Chinese dishes: gai poo lo mein ($13.95), a mixture of chicken, lobster, shrimp, beef, and vegetables on noodles, and char sue ding ($7.25), diced barbecued pork and vegetables.

My advice: make a real retro evening of it in Honolulu's bar. It's a lounge-lizard's paradise; maybe you'll even see a Bill Murray look-alike crooning in the corner.