ʻUlu (breadfruit) first navigated its way to Hawaiʻi by canoe, carried by Polynesian voyagers who traversed the Pacific in search of new lands. These skilled wayfinders brought with them canoe plants—essential plants deliberately transported to sustain life in their new home. Among these, ʻulu held a place of distinction. Once planted, it grew into a towering tree, reaching heights of 30 to 60 feet and yielding an abundance of nourishing fruit. Beyond sustenance, ʻulu carried the promise of new canoes—its lightweight yet durable wood ideal for carving hulls, while its sticky sap served as both glue and waterproofing. Hawaiians also crafted kiʻi (wooden images of Hawaiian gods) from its timber, built houses, and used the sap as an adhesive to affix niho mano (shark teeth) to weapons.

ʻUlu has been culturally revered in Hawaiʻi for centuries, with numerous myths surrounding its origins. A recurring theme in these legends is ʻulu’s symbolism of abundance as a safeguard against scarcity. Traditional medical practitioner and cultural authority Sean Chun of Kauaʻi shares one such myth that links ʻulu to Kū, who is now widely recognized as the god of war. However, Kū once desired to return to earth, live among the kanaka (people), and be with his ʻohana (extended family). When famine struck the land, Kū made the ultimate sacrifice—he planted his body into the earth, from which the first ʻulu tree sprouted.

This story is particularly relevant today, as ʻulu is once again being called upon to provide nourishment in a time when global food shortages are a growing concern. The tree’s incredible yield—producing between 200 and 300 pounds of nutritionally dense fruit annually, according to Sean—positions it as a valuable food staple. It thrives with minimal maintenance, is drought-tolerant, and contributes significantly to food security.

Beyond feeding people, ʻulu is a true “giving tree,” enriching both the land and its surrounding ecosystem. In areas where monocropping has depleted the soil, such as former sugarcane plantations on Kauaʻi, planting ʻulu helps restore soil health. In regions where rainforests have been cleared for pasture or agriculture, the tree’s broad canopy plays a key role in revitalizing the traditional multi-tiered tropical forest. Large trees like ʻulu filter rainwater, moderate the climate beneath their branches, and create ideal conditions for diverse flora and fungi to flourish. This ecosystem not only supports biodiversity but also helps prevent soil erosion—a significant benefit on Kauaʻi, one of the rainiest places on earth. It is no surprise that ʻulu continues to be held in deep cultural reverence.

On Kauaʻi, efforts to educate the next generation about ʻulu and its significance are thriving. The Breadfruit Institute, part of the National Tropical Botanical Garden, is at the forefront of these initiatives, advancing both the science of ʻulu cultivation and the preservation of its many varieties. The COVID-19 pandemic underscored the importance of local food security, further fueling interest in this remarkable tree. The institute was founded by Dr. Diane Ragone, who served as its director from 2003 to 2022. What began as her dissertation research evolved into a global endeavor to plant and collect over 150 breadfruit varieties, now housed at the institute.

Today, the institute is led by Noel Dickinson, MSc, who previously worked as a horticultural technician and farmer in the Regenerative Organic Breadfruit Agroforestry (ROBA) demonstration at McBryde Garden, home to the largest collection of native Hawaiian plants. Dr. Ragone personally selected Noel to manage ROBA, recognizing her deep-rooted connection to agriculture. Growing up on a 10-acre farm on Kauaʻi’s west side, Noel’s family cultivated neem trees, prized for their organic pesticide properties. They also had ʻulu trees in their backyard, and breadfruit was a staple in their household.

At the agroforestry project, the selection of ʻulu species is carefully curated to ensure year-round fruit production and to experiment with different varieties. The harvested fruit is distributed weekly to Kauaʻi’s food bank and to McBryde Garden staff, reinforcing Noel’s kuleana (responsibility) to the community. Given ʻulu’s short shelf life, locals are always eager to get their hands on fresh fruit before it disappears.

To extend ʻulu’s usability, Noel offers a simple preservation method. She advises picking the fruit when it is mature but still firm, removing the stem, and allowing the sap to drain. Soaking the fruit in cool water for 20 to 30 minutes lowers its core temperature, prolonging freshness for up to a week. Additionally, this process reduces sap, making the fruit easier to cut and prepare. For longer storage, traditional methods involve steaming, cutting into chunks and freezing for future use.

The Breadfruit Institute’s commitment extends beyond Kauaʻi. After the devastating Lahaina fire in August 2023, the institute played a crucial role in preserving historic breadfruit trees that were at risk. Noel notes that staff worked alongside community members and conservation professionals to rescue and relocate these trees. She says, “I’m proud to share these historic trees are now thriving in greenhouse facilities at Kahanu Garden,” which is located on Maui.

When it comes to preparing ʻulu, simplicity often yields the most delicious results. Carol Peacock Williams, who is developing gluten-free breadfruit recipes for an upcoming Kauaʻi cookbook, shares a favorite story. In a rush to prepare a dish for a potluck, she baked an overripe breadfruit until the outside turned black, cut it in half, scooped out the flesh and mixed it with whatever coconut cream, milk or oil she had on hand plus pumpkin pie spice. She served it straight from the fruit’s natural bowl, and it was an instant hit. While ʻulu is traditionally enjoyed at its firm, mature stage, seasoned cooks know that when it ripens, it becomes naturally sweet and ideal for puddings or custards.

Innovative uses for ʻulu abound on Kauaʻi. At Common Ground, a food campus dedicated to sustainable agriculture, Director of Food Systems Adam Watten highlights ʻulu’s starring role in their culinary programs. The Farm and Food Experience at Common Ground integrates ʻulu into meals nearly every day. Adam describes their signature ʻulu croutons, pan-seared in a cast iron skillet with herbs, onions and goat cheese. In-house ʻulu flour is used for dredging and frying, while grated breadfruit is transformed into croquettes reminiscent of latkes. Despite these creative takes, Adam insists that the best way to enjoy ʻulu is the simplest: roasting it over an open wood fire. Quoting a line from a song by reggae artist Yellowman—“breadfruit roasting on an open fire”—Adam jokes that he might just head to the beach to build a fire and enjoy one of life’s purest pleasures.

For those unable to roast ʻulu over an open flame, Chef Gida Snyder of Slow Island Food & Beverage Co. shares one of her new favorites taught to her by a chef friend from Puerto Rico, where they call breadfruit pana. Use these “crispy discs” as a side dish or snack on them. 

Tostones de Pana

•    Simmer a whole, mature but unripe breadfruit in water for about 45 minutes.
•    Remove from the water and allow to cool.
•    Using a knife, peel and remove the core.
•    Cut into 1.5” to 2” chunks.
•    Heat neutral oil to about 325 degrees in a deep sauté pan or cast-iron skillet.
•    Fry breadfruit chunks on both sides until golden but not yet browning.
•    Remove from the oil.
•    Flatten to about one-quarter-inch-thick discs using the bottom of the cup or bowl.
•    Allow oil to reheat to about 375 degrees. 
•    Fry the flattened discs until they are crispy and golden brown.
•    Drain on paper towels.
•    Salt liberally and enjoy hot.
•    For later use, freeze and reheat in an air fryer or toaster oven.