Maui Brewing Co.’s Menu Offers a World of Flavors (Maui Now)
Ahoy, me hearties.
After many a week at sea, we did stumble upon yon shores in search of grub and grog.
Good evening. Welcome to Maui Brewing Co. A table for one this evening?
Aye. That is, I an’ me first mate, Pepe. We seek the flavors of the New World.
That’s two for dinner, then?
Pepe is me parrot, fine wench. Perched here on me arm.
*CAAAW*
So… one?
*CAAAW. All alone! CAAAW.*
Okay. That will be about 45 minutes.
Shiver me timbers! That be a mighty long wait for so far beyond yon city. Lucky for ye, I would no sooner pillage this place and everyone in it, but me hunger may soon render me destined for Davy Jones Locker.
Would you like to sit at the bar?
Yaar. Although I no longer splice the mainbrace, I might soon be in need of a perch, as it appears me scurvy is back with a fury.
So that’s a yes?
Avast, lead us to your barmaid and a menu, ye salty dog, ye.
Bilge, it seems change is afoot at ye olde Maui Brewing Co. Gone be much of the classic bar grub of yore. I no longer spy beer battered onion rings for the offing, Pepe.
*CAAAW. Nevermore!*
What is this… Shishito Peppers ($6) and Poutine ($9)? Ye, fancy yourself a gastropub now, landlubber?
Fair enough, it be a sign of the times to brandish Jambalaya ($18), Pipikaula ($8) and yon Hummus Trio ($9) on the same menu. Alas, I still remember the days when one be voyaging across the vast watery deeps of t’ Seven Seas to taste such varied pleasures.
But enough o’ me tales.
Make your best recommendation for a famished soul such as meself already, scalawag.
The Phyllo Fried Brie ($11) you say?
Steer me wrong and prepare to walk t’ plank.
Until then, bring me this brie o’ which you speak, and a Bacon and Bleu Slider ($7) for Pepe.
A large chunk o’ melted brie is wrapped in light, yet buttery phyllo dough and baked. Served with slices o’ sourdough and a creamy pineapple sauce, tis enough to make a man cry yo ho ho.
Tis sweet and cloyin’, indeed, but somehow… It works.
Wouldn’t mind me a night alone in the poop deck with just this hot, melty, sexy little number.
You know, a man can get mighty lonely out on the high seas. And after drinking enough seawater, you never know what tricks the mind will play.
*CAW?*
Pay no mind to my words. Pepe, and let a sailor enjoy his…
*CAAAAAAAW!*
What’s that? Let me have a taste.
By the short hairs of George Booth, ye slider be saltier than a mermaid’s kiss.
Although ye beef be local and grass-fed, tis no flavor of note but that of the brine of the sea herself. Alas, the cheese and bacon do nothing to lessen the sodium. Begad! If I knew no better, I might fear this as an attempt on the life of poor Pepe.
Speak no more of ye lies. “Just defending the hostess,” are you, lubber?
Ye all be cowardly swabs!
Yaar, show me the parrot who lacks affection for shiny things, and I’ll show you a dead parrot. I dare say she was asking for it, what with those tempting treasures dangling from yon lobes.
Belay your talk and bring us some Hot Wings ($13) and a Caesar Salad ($8) for me scurvy.
Hmmmm. These wings be less crispy than I might wish, Lassie, but ye spicy wing sauce helps me to forget such transgressions. This time.
Turn that frying grease up though, matey. I need me bird meat with some crunch, or I’ll be forced to place t’ black spot on ye.
On the other hand, thanks to ye array of crispy vegetable offerings, I daresay I’m already a bit less knock kneed.
*CAAAW*
Sink me! Use your deadlights, Pepe. Surely eatin’ the wing of a fellow bird – albeit flightless and unable to converse such as yourself – must be some form o’ cannibalism.
Unhand that drummette, before I turn you into shark bait.
*CAAW! Dead men tell no tales.*
Work on this here caesar salad, instead, worthless buzzard.
*caw*
Yaa’r, me cannot argue with you, Pepe. Indeed, it’s a rather generic caesar much like you would order anywhere and probably for less shillings, but at least it’s not a relative.
Alas, me soul still longs for more and me heart is wrenched apart to find that the Fish and Chips is feeding the fishes, if you know what me means.
Anywho, bring me an Adult Mac and Cheese ($19) in which to drown me sorrows, Bilge Rat.
And me sincerest apologies for all the name calling.
Yaar, you’re a sight busy with others, but still tending to me needs – and those of me dear friend here – with prompt courtesy. I daresay I might be seeing fit to leave you this gold doubloon.
Here, have yeself a bite.
No, not of me adult mac and cheese, you blaggard, of this coin. It’s how you know it’s real.
T’ mac and cheese be threatenin’ to slow down me swashbucklin’ and pop the buttons off me puffy shirt. Yaar, it be like eating t’ contents o’ a treasure chest.
Rich with cheese and intense with the flavor o’ andouille sausage, it’s less mac and cheese than creamy pasta dish, but if decadance be what you crave, this be the captain’s daughter.
Gangway, me bucko!
You’ve pillaged all the booty I can spare. Tis time Pepe and I return to the sea. Aye, she’s a harsh mistress, but I wouldn’t have her any other way.
Fair winds, mateys.
You know that’s just a stuffed cardinal on your shoulder, right?