When a tamale takes origin behind a Frida Kahlo swinging kitchen drape, the omen seems good. Kahlo brought that fuego life force, and maybe across her decades and her geography to this Hawaiian island in the middle of the ocean, the chicken tamales that I order carry the energy forward? Before I cajole the heavy metal fork through the first maiz de harina discovery, I have to find the restaurant place.

On Big Island as you leave Waimea and continue driving parallel to magnificent ocean, our universe sistah', on the Hamakua coast you are now maybe seven or eight miles past Honoka'a. On the right side of the road the sign for Donna's Cookies appears visible and a few feet adjacent is a Tamales banner dancing in the wind. Traffic can get fast here, so make sure to activate your car's blinker long before, its signaling bright yellow, just when the road stretches narrow and linear without any curves. Then, park right in front of the Taqueria sign. Pardon basic instructions yet easy to whiz right by wrapped in all that speeding steel tonnage.

Inside the cafe are two other tall banners (besides dancing tamales sign) that celebrate a Chicago Jazz Festival—in 1982. Hawai'i ever has the braided pulse to weave ancient, modern, and yesterday's snail mail, or maybe several weeks from before. The taqueria's skilled cook sits at a small table when you walk in, one that appears to be his office, for a small calculator and other business remnants rest there, including a few stacks of dusty mail.

Once a cozy seat at a table is mine, I go ahead and wedge the fork through the tamale exterior that pushes back, a delicate give, the tamale on the fork still holding together, and a few bright yellow corn kernels and shreds of chicken marinaded in a mild red chile sauce complete the fork's research. Ladled on each tamale is salsa verde or tomatillo. Eating two tamales in one sitting made for a meal. At the table was hot sauce that I poured, a tablespoon or two, bringing the heat, in honor of Frida Kahlo's inspiring life and my palette's preferences for da spicy.

On a return visit damn if the steak taco could have been made in my own home kitchen. Can you recall those times when sprinkling cheese on a tortilla, heating in the pan often means melted cheese stays soft on the tortilla yet also a few wayward crispy cooked strands remain in the frying pan? Those charred cheese bits taste so ono. (An entire bag has been made into “chips” served courtesy of the zillion choice offerings at Trader Joe's. Alas, I cross the ocean waters and will return this writing's focus.)

What Reynaldo, the cook entrepreneur, achieves with the steak taco is to flip ground beef and cheese over so the entire slab is that delicious charred cheese reward nestled onto two soft corn tortillas. Include dark green shredded lettuce, chunks of fresh tomato, and fresh lime as the dressing. Salsa verde graces tamales and tacos. The second taco (some of us get carried away when in a taqueria) arrived in a hard shell taco—recently fried into shape—filled with chorizo, salsa, lettuce, tomato, and freshly cut onion.

Traveling Big Island Hawai'i back roads on the Hamakua coast means that when you look up while driving across a bridge you see a dilapidated cement slab in the adjacent fields that reads 1920. Relics from sugar cane plantation days, when trains worked industriously to deliver farm product, are everywhere. While your mind entertains the historical changes since then into now 2023, a simple Tamales sign grabs your wavering attention.

Walking inside the venue brings the blessed mix of old-fashioned and new. What the visiting experience demands—whether living off or on island—is to leave expectations exactly at the spot where the door clangs noisily behind you and you step inside. You will be fed. And well. Factor in the absence of corporate Taco Bell accouterments. Only original recipes and interior designs exist here. And prices are fair (as in, leaving on a full belly for under $20) and support sourcing tasty food on an island thousands of miles from traditional distribution. (Read: small farmers grow small batches, for a reason.)

One spice not listed on the menu is generosity of spirit that far out in the rural Hawaiian countryside fascinating foodie places exist. Takes heart and appetite to find them. Also, one other request from Reynaldo is to leave your iphone in the car. That contraption no need in this taqueria cafe. No riff raff, no whining are the phrases on the sign declaring protocol for this taqueria at your service in the honored rural Hawaiian landscape.