You were already saying goodbye 45 minutes ago. But now you’re in the driveway, arms full of Ziploc bags, foil-covered paper plates, and a reused sour cream container filled with something mysterious but delicious. That’s the Hawai‘i goodbye. And you’re not leaving empty-handed.
In Hawai‘i, hospitality doesn’t end when the party does — that’s when it kicks into high gear. The second someone says, “K den, we go,” the race begins: Aunties swarm the kitchen. Uncles start dividing poke like Wall Street brokers. Cousins pull out coolers from the trunk. And just like that, your farewell becomes a full-on food distribution event.
We call it “take some” culture — and it’s one of the most beautiful, underrated expressions of aloha.
Not Just Leftovers — Aloha in a Bag
That kalua pig you were eyeing earlier? Now in a Ziploc, double-bagged. Grandma’s sushi bake? Covered in foil and handed to you like treasure. Banana bread from someone’s co-worker’s aunty? Into your tote it goes. You might not even know who made what — but you will be eating good tomorrow.
It’s not just about preventing waste (though that’s part of it). It’s about caring for each other beyond the moment. It’s a way of saying, “I thought about you,” “Here’s something for later,” and “We’re still connected.”
And if you try to refuse? Forget it. You’ll get scolded softly but firmly.
“Just take, no be shame.”
“We get too much.”
“You like or not, already packed.”
Everyone’s Got Their Signature Move
There’s the Cooler Champion, who brings their own ice chest just for leftovers. The Expert Wrapper, who can foil-wrap a full laulau in 3 seconds flat. The Reuse Queen, whose containers say Best Foods but hold chow fun. And of course, the Sneak Packer, who quietly stuffs your bag when you’re not looking.
And don’t forget: labeling is optional, mystery is mandatory.
More Than Just Food
“Take some” is Living Aloha in motion. It’s the idea that no one should leave empty-handed, whether they brought dessert or just came to hang out. It’s rooted in local generosity, mixed with a little guilt and a lot of love. It’s the anti-ghosting — even in your exit, you’re embraced.
It happens after baby luaus, after work potlucks, even after small kine pau hanas. And it’s not just for family — coworkers, neighbors, your cousin’s friend from the mainland — everyone gets offered food. That’s the local way.
So next time you’re halfway to your car, hands full, sauce leaking from a Tupperware that isn’t yours? Smile. You’ve been loved. You’ve been fed. You’re part of something.
And when you’re the host? Don’t forget to say it with feeling:
“Take some, yeah?”
Living Aloha – Hawaii Monthly Staff
hawaiimonthly.com