Noodle vendor draws on Hawaiian heritage to wow crowds

Hale Lake had the perfect schedule.

"I'd body surf or surf in the morning, then work for the day" cooking under chef Tom Charron at the Napili Kai Beach Club on Maui, he said. "Then I'd do it all again in the evening."

The Maui-born Hawaiian islander was fresh from two years of accounting studies at Whitworth University in Spokane on a basketball scholarship. He was very good at numbers, but he'd also uncovered a native talent for culinary arts. He'd been raised by relatives on Oahu and attended a military boarding high school there, where he did his share of cooking, prepping and dishwashing.

Scouting out his next step in life, he returned to the island. It took him to Napili Kai and Charron - and eventually to the creation of Island Noodles, a favorite at Flathead summer festivals that has caught on across the nation.

As Lake worked through his career he discovered that accounting principles helped him in the culinary world, so his college education wasn't for naught. It's just that he spotted a tantalizing opportunity in the art of food.

"I was by chance good at it," he said. "I was good at cutting fish, I understood it."

So he followed some wisdom he'd gotten from his dad - a guiding light to Hale and a very patient man:

"Make a choice," Lake told himself. "Don't stay on the fence. Every choice is a risk." He chose, then worked out the details as he went.

He signed on with Charron, an alumnus of Hyde Park Culinary Institute of America. Under Charron, he had a chance to make a living and get hands-on training from one of the best.

"He taught me the more refined applications of cooking," Lake said. Besides, he figured, "How many accountants have an office on the beach?"

During that stint he met his future wife, Beverly. During an extension of a vacation that her Napa Valley family took in Hawaii, the young couple eventually met.

After she left the island, Lake followed her back to Napa Valley - working as a sous chef for Silverado Country Club, then the pantry person under chef Cindy Paulson for Meadowood at St. Helena, and soon Meadowood's executive chef for eight more years.

But in between Oahu and Napa Valley, there was a 22-month stint at the CIA - as students fondly refer to the Culinary Institute. With a recommendation from Charron and the requisite number of hours in pantry, meat-cutting and dishwashing under his apron, Lake headed off to Hyde Park in 1978 on a minority grant. He later found he was one of only three native Hawaiians on the entire campus.

"CIA was phenomenal. They had a great way of weeding out the weak," he said. Every three weeks 72 new students started their studies. Split into four groups, they studied three weeks of food chemistry, three weeks of culinary French language, then three weeks of application to explore the world of edible foods.

"For the first nine weeks we never touched a knife," Lake said. Starting with the 10th week, they cooked and cooked and cooked.

"When I finally got my formula down for Island Noodles," he said of the recipe that had its roots in the yaki-soba noodles his mother used to make for her clan of six kids and all the assorted friends who wandered in and out, "this is why."

Over time, he eliminated allergens such as eggs from the noodles and peanuts from the sauce. He "quantified" his menu items, comparing sales levels among the noodles containing chicken, shrimp, pork, beef and those with just vegetables.

Meatless noodles always outsold any single meat offering, although never all of the meat varieties combined.

By process of elimination and a decision to keep things simple, he landed on a winning menu of just noodles and vegetables cooked in his sauce that tended to the flavor profile that keeps the crowds coming.

Simplification was a good move on several levels.

"When there's a line and they're waiting way back there, you know what the last person wants," he said. "And that's velocity."

The simplified menu, cooking kettles he custom-designed to throw the heat away from the cook and a streamlined system.

"My philosophy is the less you handle food the better," he said.

With vegetables cut directly into the noodles over the heat, it means his crews can dish up 500 servings an hour.

With just 4 1/2 minutes cooking time that includes a surprisingly long 2-minute window of acceptable quality level, his menu is tasty and consistent.

"No matter where you see them, they're the same," he said. People have bought licenses to operate Island Noodles concessions in Texas, Colorado, Arizona, Florida, Oregon, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Nevada and Eastern Montana.

"I'm not out there selling this. All these people have contacted me."

Lake is one of those people who learns from life's lessons.

After a few years, he, Beverly and their four children landed in Bigfork where he opened Hale's Lake House, an eclectic restaurant that turned into a community gathering place. The noodles he cooked there sold fine, but when traffic for the Bigfork Art Festival blocked access to the Lake House he took the noodles to the street and they became his lifeblood.

He and Saia Misa, a former Seahawks middle linebacker and Lake's bartender at the time, took the noodle-monger idea to other events.

They set up a kettle in front of the Garden Bar in Bigfork at Fourth of July festivities in 1995 and unwittingly gave birth to Island Noodles.

"That's when it began to skyrocket, so I realized this is the business I need to be in," Lake said.

"This is all by default. I didn't think about this. I had the cojones to do this."

He sold the restaurant/casino/hotel/bar in 1997 to devote more time to the family. He told his wife he was going to take Island Noodles national, a long shot at best.

In the meantime he continued as an event vendor and created a beer tap and line-cleaning business that was a lucrative concern for two years.

Ultimately, it financed the development of Island Noodles across the U.S. He and Misa headed for Florida, hitting Coconut Grove Art Festival and another festival in Tempe, Ariz., the nation's first- and third-largest such events. They bought a camper and trailer and filled in the grid with other festivals over the years, including motorcycling's annual Sturgis Rally in South Dakota.

If the cash register was ringing, he stayed open. If he had a bad day, he never let on to his customers. He just kept his focus on a quality meal and a quality experience.

"We take care of the noodles, they take care of us," Lake said.

"I'm very passionate. My passion is in my sweat," he said. When he sells a license to another person to operate an Island Noodles concession, training, supplies and a year of Lake's mentoring go along with the deal. If their heart's not in it from the get-go, he won't sell the license.

"I don't expect everybody to have my level of passion - but they're close."

And for Lake, that's what it's all about.

It's not about the money, although he admits his wife wishes it leaned a bit more in that direction. It's not about getting famous. It's about that integrity, that passion.

"I'm not on this sales drive. I never will be," he said. "Some day someone might buy me out and do that. But I live life on life's terms."

Reporter Nancy Kimball can be reached at 758-4483 or by e-mail at nkimball@dailyinterlake.com