Gobble up Brandi's specials while you can
By Lisa Sekiya
Special to The Advertiser
What a find! Seriously. Not only are the signs for Brandi's Deli tiny and unremarkable, they'e flipped over because someone actually complained. This, in a sea of neon that floods the Ala Moana area at night. Go figure.
Brandi's opened in 1988 in the Pan Am building. Back then, it had lines out the door. Today, this lunch-only establishment hides out across the street from its former location, halfway down a one-way parking lot and on the second floor. Walk up the stairs and behold a bright orange kimono. Welcome, Indiana Jones, you've discovered the lost temple of loco moco and Spam-and-egg sandwiches.
There's no noshing of knishes and cheese blintzes at this place — it's not that kind of deli. Instead, you get local plate lunches and teri burgers. And try the popular Thursday special ($5.75) that regulars would rather keep secret. I'll just say that the meal will be filling, and you'll gobble, gobble it up, homemade gravy and all. Tip: The early bird catches the special.
When you're here, you're with family — Linda Nambu's family, that is. The mom, sister, cousins, nieces (the deli is named after one), even former in-laws help out, many for free. It's the only way the business can survive, Nambu says.
Her dad created the beef stew (plate lunch $5.75, bowl $3.50), which is a winner. Her sister came up with the loco moco ($4.50). Customers from the Big Island, home of the loco moco, have raved about the dish to Nambu. Not surprisingly, the gravy is made from scratch. At other places, she says, you can taste that it's instant.
I got a pretty mean and meaty chili bowl with brown rice ($3.50). I felt good about choosing brown rice, so good, I ordered french fries ($1.75). Hey, everybody was getting them.
My crinkle-cut fries arrived fresh from the fryer with a solid potato bite. They weren't dry and crunchy victims of heat-lamp overexposure. On a later visit, I had the cheeseburger ($3.25) and frings ($2.25) — fries and onion rings in one bag. The time after that, I went for the beef stew and, yes, fries again.
And, oh wow, lau lau. Brandi's Friday special ($6) gives you one lau lau with pork AND chicken AND butterfish inside. The plate comes with lomi salmon, tossed or macaroni salad, rice and an attack of the killer zzzs back at the office.
"They give you a portion that's gonna fill a man," says Mark Mattiano, an operations manager at the Hawai'i Convention Center. He and his co-workers eat at the deli four times a week. While talking with me, they polish off an entire container of Brandi's chocolate-chip cookies ($8).
"This is not an Atkins place," notes Gordon Sueyoshi. He also claims the cheeseburgers are better than Teddy's Bigger Burgers — and Ted is a friend. "Sorry, Ted," he jokes.
Noel Klingenberg and Bill Spongberg round out this group of Brandi's fans. Klingenberg, who always orders the daily special and has never been disappointed, introduced Brandi's to Mattiano. Mattiano brought Spongberg. The guys brought Sueyoshi. It's Island-style word-of-mouth advertising at work.
The future of this mom-and-pop place is uncertain. A developer bought the property that Brandi's Deli and other shops occupy. According to Nambu's ex-husband, Stan, Brandi's original lease came with a 365-day demolition clause. That means when the property owner tells you to go, you have one year to do so.
If that happens, Nambu is fine with it. "I wanted to close for a long time because it's really hard work," she says. The stress of running Brandi's and struggling to make a profit has left her with high blood pressure and a thyroid problem.
"I don't advise anyone to get into it, even if they have a big family," she says of the business. "If you have the volume, it's OK. But we don't." It doesn't help that Nambu has raised her prices only three times in 19 years.
Just like a mom, Nambu has made personal sacrifices to keep her hungry charges well fed and satisfied over the years.
Just ask Sueyoshi, who says about the cooking: "If you miss your mom, come here."
Lisa Sekiya works in The Advertiser's marketing department and spends her spare time seeking out inexpensive eateries.