Everything You Need To Know About Lychee in Hawaiʻi
Our take
Springer Kaye’s reminiscence of a paper bag of sticky lychee is more than a nostalgic anecdote; it is a portal into a fruit that quietly reshapes Hawaiʻi’s culinary map and agricultural identity. When she recalls sitting on the porch of her Mānoa home, the memory instantly conjures the island’s summer rhythm—sun‑kissed afternoons, the hum of surf, and a communal sharing of something both exotic and homegrown. That same feeling now ripples through her own venture, Kaye Family Farms, perched on Hawaiʻi Island where the Kaimana lychee thrives. Readers who have followed our coverage of island destinations, such as the vibrant community stories in 2026 Readers’ Choices Awards: Kauaʻi and the culinary delights of Molokaʻi in 2026 Readers’ Choice Awards: Molokaʻi and Lānaʻi, will recognize how a single fruit can anchor a broader narrative of place‑based luxury that feels both accessible and authentic.
Lychee’s journey from a Chinese import to a cultivated staple on the Big Island illustrates the adventurous yet grounded spirit that defines Hawaiʻi’s modern terroir. Historically, the fruit arrived in the early 1900s, but it was only in the last decade that growers like Kaye began to treat it as a premium, terroir‑specific product rather than a novelty. By curating micro‑climates on volcanic slopes, experimenting with grafting techniques, and embracing organic stewardship, these farmers are elevating lychee from market stall filler to a curated experience that pairs naturally with the islands’ surf‑side vibe. The fruit’s delicate, floral sweetness complements the bold flavors of local poke, the smoky char of kalua pork, and the buttery richness of a fresh‑caught mahi‑mahi, inviting chefs and home cooks alike to discover new layers of flavor. In this way, lychee becomes a culinary bridge—linking the island’s multicultural heritage with a forward‑thinking, luxury‑leaning palate that our audience craves.
Beyond the plate, the resurgence of lychee farming carries cultural weight. It reinforces a community‑first ethos, where neighborly sharing—once a paper bag passed around a porch—now evolves into farm‑to‑table experiences that invite visitors to walk the rows, learn about sustainable practices, and taste the fruit straight from the branch. This participatory model echoes the island’s surf culture: you don’t just watch the waves, you ride them. Visitors who indulge in a tasting tour at Kaye Family Farms leave with more than a souvenir; they carry a story of stewardship, of a farmer who chose to root his livelihood in the soil rather than the resort lobby. That authenticity resonates deeply with travelers who seek luxury that feels earned, not imposed.
Looking ahead, the lychee renaissance hints at a broader shift in Hawaiʻi’s agricultural landscape. As climate patterns evolve, growers are experimenting with heat‑resilient varieties and regenerative practices that could safeguard the islands’ food sovereignty. Will lychee become a flagship of this resilient future, inspiring other niche crops to find their place on volcanic soils? For those of us who cherish the interplay of adventure, culture, and elevated taste, the answer may lie in the next season’s harvest—where the next sticky paper bag could be filled with more than fruit, but with a glimpse of Hawaiʻi’s sustainable, community‑driven luxury.
This story was originally published on July 8, 2020, and updated in May 2026.
Springer Kaye remembers growing up in Mānoa on Oʻahu with a neighbor who would share lychee with her family. It has always reminded her of summer in Hawaiʻi.
“We would sit there, with that big paper bag of lychee, covered in the sticky sap,” says Kaye, who now operates Kaye Family Farms, a lychee farm on Hawaiʻi Island.
Photo: Courtesy of Kaye Family Farms
Lychee seasons run from May through September in the Islands. And for many of us who grew up in Hawaiʻi, it’s not summer until you peel the prickly red skin of a lychee fruit and feast on the sweet, juicy translucent fruit inside.
With fewer and fewer trees in backyards in the Islands—this is true for mango trees, too, cut down because they’re too hard or expensive to maintain or to make room for extensions to homes—lychee has become a coveted fruit, commanding $7 a pound in local grocery stores. (Kaye’s neighbor in Mānoa eventually cut down his tree, too.)
So what’s the deal with lychee, anyway?
Let’s start from the beginning.
Lychee (Litchi chinensis) is an evergreen tree that produces round, red, rough-skinned fruits. Originally from southeast China, lychee was brought to Hawaiʻi in 1873 by Ching Chock and planted on the property of Chun Afong at the corner of Nuʻuanu and School streets in Honolulu. It was known as the “Afong Tree.”
There are hundreds of varieties of lychee around the world, though you’ll find only three most often in Hawaiʻi’s: Kwai Mi (the first lychee introduced to the Islands), Groff and Kaimana.
Lychee is most often eaten right off the tree—or, even better, right out of the fridge. The best lychee fruits boast a juicy, sweet flesh inside with a smaller seed. It’s hard to describe the taste—though, to be sure, it tastes nothing like the canned version. It’s almost a cross between a strawberry and a grape, with a sweet, floral fragrance. While in season, you can find lychee in everything from cocktails to sorbet in Hawaiʻi.
You want to look for a red, rosy color with a smoothed-out skin, says Kaye: “When lychee matures, the scales around the middle of the fruit should be smooth, and they should have a little give to it.”
You want to put lychee in the fridge—or freezer—ASAP. You can’t leave them on your kitchen counter for very long. Fruits last up to three weeks in the fridge—put them in a damp paper bag—or three months in the freezer. If the shell dries out and turns brown, it doesn’t necessarily mean the fruit inside is bad, too, she says.
Deliciousness aside, lychee also has health benefits to note. It’s loaded with vitamin C—more than oranges and lemons—antioxidants and B-complex vitamins like niacin and folates.
So how do you pronounce it?
In Hawaiʻi, we say, lai-chee. In other places, it’s pronounced, lee-chee. Which is correct? Likely, neither. But when in Hawaiʻi…
Hawaiʻi Island arguably grows the best lychee, says Ken Love, executive director of the Hawaiʻi Tropical Fruit Growers, because of the combination of ample rainfall and heat, which causes the fruits to have a higher sugar content, therefore sweeter.
Kaye’s 28-acre farm in Honomū, about 15 miles north of Hilo (and near ʻAkaka Falls), specializes in lychee. She has 120 trees—with more being planted—producing about 5,000 pounds of fruit a year. She sells them direct to customers within the state—and they go quick. (Other, larger farms can sell to the Mainland.) Every Friday she posts her inventory on her website for the coming week and she’s sold out in 20 minutes. Her last harvest was over the Fourth of July weekend.
Kaye’s favorite way to eat lychee?
“Lately, we’ve been making lychee drinks,” she says. “We blend it—equal parts lychee and ice—and add coconut milk. You can even add a shot of vodka, if you want. It’s such a nice, frothy ice-cold drink to have on a hot day.”
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