Today we continue ambling along the coastline with the master. Another Don the Beachcomber episode, you ask? My answer? Every turn of the page is a new adventure in that man’s history. Think of all the abstract nuances in your own life. Stories only you know, ephemeral moments, and the deep reflective emotions tied to each. We don't all get the luxury of having our lives documented. Donn did, if even so scantily. We can never know of what truth a man keeps, but I venture a guess we all have the same unspoken rituals of our hearts. Through stories, pictures and recipes we get a glimpse into the Don of Tiki, and there are seemingly always more stories to tell.
As a rum runner throughout the Caribbean then hopping freighters around the south pacific he literally cut his teeth on tropical food and drink. Then as a divorced WW2 vet he expatriated to Waikiki all the while curating some of the best island escapist paradises the world has ever dug their toes into. Not to mention inventing tiki! He lived the life, but also lived the dream. Don never stopped being his true Beachcomber self and always endeavored to give customers not just the best drinks and dining, but the best, if at times misadventurous, experiences.
Take this story for example. With the tropical drink diaspora having followed Donn across the Pacific he knew the next endeavor had to be bigger than big. You’ve heard the saying “it takes a village”? Well, that’s exactly what Donn built. In 1956 he opened the International Marketplace in Waikiki. A 4.5 acre Polynesian complex housing over 50 shops, nightclubs, and restaurants. Don himself operated three. The largest, Don the Beachcomber’s Cabaret Restaurant, maintained the classic look and feel of Tiki. The second was The Colonel’s Plantation Beefsteak House. Although that name may sound pleasantly suggestive to some of my gay friends it was in actuality a high end steakhouse. Of course, done in the gratuitous style Donn was known for. Diners would select their own cut of beef straight off a slab of meat then ceremoniously pull their swords, or steak knives, from scabbards presented theatrically by a waiter. Yet, both of these pale in comparison to what may be the Beachcomber’s most scandalous scheme yet: Donn’s Treehouse.
Imagine you’re walking with your wahini. You’ve been shopping all morning, a tiresome task but you are quite excited to see her in that new sheer sarong you bought her. Ah, the benefits of banality. Perhaps the two of you imbibed in a few tropical concoctions and it’s time for your dinner reservation. As you approach the base you read, “Stairway to the world’s most exclusive restaurant, created for those in love with love. Capacity: Two”
High above, nestled amid the limbs of a great Banyan tree, rests a bamboo shack containing one table. A dinner of roast squab with curried-quail-egg stuffing and Champagne awaits upon arrival. The scented napkins are a nice touch. You lock yourselves in and remain undisturbed the entire evening. Hear the night going on below, crack the louvered windows to gaze down knowing no one can see up into your private dining experience.
The hut features a daybed covered in pillows, record player, and a set of skimpy his and hers Polynesian wraps. In case you want to change into something more comfortable. All this for the paltry sum of $37.50 in 1960’s dollars, but to borrow a quote from Beachbum Berry, “The after dinner entertainment was up to you.”
I just hope Donn sprung for a good cleaning crew. In case you spill your curried quail eggs all over the place. Also, no mention of a bathroom up there. That could be a total mood kill.
If you’re thinking that set-up may have offended some delicate sensibilities of post war Americana you’d be right. Years of catering to the Hollywood elite had taught Donn how to coyly redirect the haters knowing all the while for every puritan there’s a dozen misfits on the waiting list.
Donn Beach always stayed a totem ahead of his competition, despite many imitators. He managed this because they were mostly business men, while Donn embraced his role. He lived the romance of the beachcomber life. Besides by all accounts being a genuinely nice guy, Donn was the consummate host. Entrepreneurial yes, inventive yes, but never wavering from what made him unique. While Donn busied himself turning stones in search of Tiki, his competition only concerned themselves with turning profits.
He did have real reason to fear copycats, though. See, they had zero shame in blatantly ripping him off. At least the Seacomber changed a word, but Monte Proser’s Beachcomber not only stole Donn’s name, but claimed to have invented the Zombie! Many-many trop-joints had a “Zombie” on the menu, but no one ever managed to duplicate the original recipe. Even Trader Vic eventually capitulated grousing that it wasn’t that good of a drink anyway. Hundreds of thousands of soulless sippers over the years beg to differ.
Best case, the obligatory undead doppelgangers gave a bar credence. No self respecting establishment exotica would be caught dead without a Zombie on the menu. Pun intended. Worst case would be the racially untenable depictions of Afro-tribal people portrayed on Zombie advertisements. As another testament to his dignity, at least in the many old menus I’ve seen, Don the Beachcomber never employed such untoward stereotypes. But alas, there is an updated Zombie episode in the works so we’ll leave it there for now.
Donn created a treasure and everyone was trying to find the X that marked success. How did they do this? Gathering artifacts was costly but doable, and what couldn’t be found could be made by some of the most elite Tiki artists, carvers, and sculptures ever like the famous Mick Brownlee. What was not easy to duplicate were the drinks. Sure, a skilled bartender familiar with tropical drink could imitate possibly even concoct a few original that were pretty dang good, but the only way to get real Don the Beachcomber drinks was to poach real Don the Beachcomber employees.
Despite Donn being the cane sugar of the Earth, for the struggling South-East Asian immigrants he employed loyalty often followed a dollar sign. In no way at all am I denigrating immigrants, your humble host himself is but third generation Italian-American, but we’re talking about young men and women who fought in guerilla militias during WW2 as teenagers. Literally going from shotguns to shakers trying to make a better life for themselves and their families, and the sharks looking for Donn’s recipes paid big money to anyone willing to defect. Personally, I highly regard loyalty, but in order to have the American dream one must be able to sleep peacefully.
Donn combated this in one of the most convoluted but effective ways ever. He created codes for his ingredients. The rums were pretty widely known, but syrups, mixes, combos of bitters and liqueurs, all sequenced in a series of codified legends that a very few trusted associates had the key to. The bartenders didn’t know what they were pouring. And guess what? It worked. It has literally taken Jeff “Beachbum” Berry decades to decode the mysteries of these recipes.
In this episode we’re going to follow the journey of Tiki drink archeologist Jeff Berry in uncovering the code to one of Donn’s most essential drinks. Through seven ingredients, two names, and one outstanding libation today we uncover the secrets of the Nui-Nui.
Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Tony, and this is Pod Tiki.
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What made these drinks so great that everyone wanted to copy them, anyway? Let’s do a brief recap of Don the Beachcomber’s mixology style. Most industry folks I know hate that term preferring bartender over the more sanctimonious “mixologist”, but in the case of Donn Beach he truly was a drink artist, conducting his Rhum Rhapsodies like melodious symphonies.
When Donn opened the first Tiki bar he had plenty of exotic artifacts and tropical detritus, as well as a first rate education in traditional potions of the Caribbean. Daiquiris, punches and such. But those weren’t very exotic. People had been fleeing to Cuba and Jamaica for years to escape prohibition. The South Pacific, on the other hand, didn’t have any drinks with tourist appeal. Unless you’re into drinking chewed up Kava leaves fermented in tribal saliva. I mean, you don’t get more “local” than that. (See our Royal Hawaiian episode for a deeper dive into that.)
Donn used the knowledge of rum he garnered from bouncing around the Caribbean, paired with a love of Polynesia, and decided to break all the rules. I imagine him like the Sherlock Holmes of rumgenuity.
Dark Jamaican rum-Barbodos-Demerara-½ oz simple syrup becomes ¼ oz Cinnamon-one 8th honey-one 8th vanilla-cardamom-nutmeg-full oz lime juice-that’s absurd-cut half lime-half grapefruit-orange-mango-grenadine-blend bitters with Herbsaint-Falernum ¾ oz-doesn’t work-½ oz-shake-stir-blend-swizzle-mint-fruit-fire-serve.
In actuality the recipes were the carefully thought out results of much trial and error. His idea was to break traditional recipes down and split the amounts per ingredient into different flavors. ½ oz of sugar syrup now became ¼ oz grenadine and ¼ oz cinnamon syrup. He did this with all kinds of flavors and profiles, but his true genius came in blending different rums from different regions creating new tertiary flavors.
These proprietary palates were the reason Don the Beachcomber drinks were unlike anything anyone had ever tasted. In this sense the drinks were truly exotic by definition. No faux about it.
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So many Beachcomber recipes begin with Dick Santiago, one of Donn’s earliest bartenders. Jeff Berry toiled for years trying to deconstruct and reverse engineer traditional Tiki drinks till he hit a dead end on the road to Hana. Until Dick Santiago’s daughter found in one of his old work shirt pockets a perfectly preserved typed out notebook of recipes. The holy grail was actually a Tiki mug. Only problem was - about half the recipe of any given drink was in code.
At this juncture of our story I am inclined to pause and let you know I will be relaying an abbreviated version of the Nui-Nui origin. The translating of Donn’s code makes up a good portion of Berry’s book Sippin’ Safari, notwithstanding that I always cite my sources and I have an immense amount of respect for Jeff, I do not believe in plagiarizing the research he spent decades doing. Please go and purchase Jeff Beachbum Berry’s books to learn the whole fascinating story behind this saga.
Okay, moving on. An original Nui-Nui recipe from Dick’s notebook was actually for a drink called a Pupule. I imagine they changed the name after realizing no one could order one without snickering. The ingredient list show the problem:
3oz Gold St. Croix Rum
½ oz Lime Juice
½ oz Orange Juice
¼ oz Don’s Spices #2
¼ oz Don’s Spices #4
2 Don’s Dashes#8
Yeah, not much of a recipe. And even this was after a few wrong deciphers. It was though the family of Hank Riddle that Jeff was able to figure out Don’s dashes #8 as Angostura bitters, but it wasn’t till meeting 80 yr old retired bartender Bob Esmino that Jeff uncovered Don’s spices… sorta. #4 was Donn’s code for cinnamon syrup, but #2? Bob told Berry to just sub spiced rum for the St. Croix.
To Jeff’s credit he didn’t spend all this time and energy to simply pour some Captain Morgan’s in there and call it a day. So, he purchased all kinds of spiced rums and began deconstructing the flavor notes, eventually narrowing the profile down to cinnamon, vanilla, and allspice. Since the Nui-Nui already utilized a cinnamon syrup he concluded Don’s Spices #2 was a mix of Vanilla Syrup and Allspice Liqueur. Two ingredients indicative of the Caribbean and often used in tropical punches.
There is a much more in depth version of the story that I will urge you to read in Jeff Beachbum Berry’s books, Sippin’ Safari and Potions of the Caribbean.
Finally, we now have the real original mid-1930’s recipe to Don the Beachcomber’s Nui-Nui:
2 oz Gold Virgin Islands Rum
½ oz Lime Juice
½ oz Orange Juice
¼ oz Cinnamon Syrup
¼ oz Donn’s Spices #2 (1:1 Vanilla Syrup:Pimento Dram)
1 dash Angostura Bitters
4 oz Crushed Ice
Blend all ingredients on high for 5 seconds. Pour into a 10 oz Collins glass or Tiki mug, add cube ice to fill if necessary, and garnish with a thick cut piece of Orange peel draped over the glass.
Let’s begin with the star of the show, gold Virgin Islands Rum. This is a category that doesn’t get much recognition nowadays. This is kinda my whole schtick, right? Trying to prove to the rum snobs out there that just because something isn’t super-premium and costs as much as my power bill doesn’t mean it’s not delicious. Don’t forget, Budweiser is a premium American lager. It only seems inferior to us because it’s ubiquitous and familiar. Americans would much rather drink a triple IPA that tastes like fermented brussel sprouts dipped in piss.
Are rums better now than back in Donn’s day? That’s debatable, but the introduction of ultra-premiums has diminished the integrity of quality spirits at an affordable price. Just remember that name-brand and store-brand are usually made in the same factory.
All that to say the go-to Virgin Island rum for both myself and Jeff Berry is Cruzan from St. Croix. St. Croix is actually the delineation made by Dick Santiago in his notes. Cruzan is a fine rum, with notes of banana, vanilla, and dried tropical fruit. But, for all my soap boxing, I’m not going to sit here and tell you there’s no notable difference in a refined product. Just because I like Chili’s doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the nuance of a Wagyu filet from Kayne Prime.
I tried this recipe with standard Cruzan Dark aged 2-5 yrs. Which leads me to believe they use a Solera method. It was quite good, but lacked depth and was a bit fruit forward. But, when I mixed it with Cruzan Single Barrel 5yr aged rum it nearly blew my grass skirt off. I was Maryln Mahalo! This rum bolsters the creamy butterscotch and vanilla flavors so much it’s like a whole different product. I’m telling you guys, in this epoch of inflation we find ourselves in, take that cheap beginner brand spirit you thought was below your evolved palate and try their next step up. You will be pleasantly surprised how good a Cruzan, Bacardi, Don Q, Jack Daniels, or Maker’s Mark can be once you disavow pretense.
Moving on we come to cinnamon syrup. There are a ton of companies now offering quality syrups that are as good or better than what you can do at home, especially when you factor in time and money. Liber, Small Hand Foods, and even some that can be found in stores. I tend to stay away from high-fructose-corn-syrup so I seek out specialty brands. For this episode I was kinda pressed for time and with the holidays coming it was worth it to save some scharole. Plus, I’d never tried my own cinnamon syrup. It’s super easy. Make a normal simple syrup, I do ½ cup sugar to ½ cup water. While you wait for that to boil crush up 3 cinnamon sticks and add to the pot. Once it boils lower the heat and simmer for 2 minutes, remove from heat, cover, and let steep for 2 hours.
The same goes for my Vanilla syrup. Normally I would buy this because skinning and crushing vanilla beans sounds like a pain in the ass. But Shannon Mustipher, in her book Tiki: Modern Tropical Cocktails, offers a simplified recipe using vanilla extract. ½ cup water, ½ cup Demerara or Turbinado cane sugar, and a tablespoon of pure vanilla extract. Bring to a boil then turn heat off and continue stirring for a few minutes till it cools. For Allspice Dram I use the popular St. Elizabeth brand. Mix 1 part each of Vanilla Syrup and Allspice Dram to make your Don’s Spices #2.
Lime juice, orange juice and Angostura bitters should be pretty self explanatory. Just make sure you always squeeze your citrus fresh. Angostura bitters could be found at any liquor store.
Wait… what’s that? You thought I forgot? Well, let’s make a drink!
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Put yourself back in that Treehouse for two, dinner is done, the Champagne is gone, and entertainment has been provided, (ahem). You make your way down avoiding eye contact with people as you tuck your shirt in. It’s time to make your way back to the bar at Don the Beachcomber’s. The libation of choice? Nui-Nui.
A bright orange hue glows in the glass like autumn leaves in the sun while a pillow of light shimmering bubbles settle atop accentuated by an orange peel curled over the lip. Nui-Nui looks unassuming beside ice volcanos and flaming Zombies. You take a sip.
Vanilla and cinnamon accentuate those notes in the Cruzan Single Barrel. A caramel butterscotch creaminess overlays a base of tropical fruit. The pimento dram mixed with lime and orange actually trick the palate into tasting… what it it? Apricot! Yes, the Nui-Nui is laying down heavy dried apricot vibes.
It could be the eyes informing the tongue but the oils from the orange peel garnish not only tickle the nose with pleasant scent but add a tinge of citrus flavor.
What the Nui-Nui lacks in flamboyance it more than makes up for in flavor, and it’s unique in another way. Unlike other Donn Beach drinks it’s more tropical party than sensually exotic. Still layered and balanced just a little more fun. Like a grown-up Hi-C. The creamy richness of the rum makes it like an apricot creamsicle.
The Nui-Nui is a wonderful example of Tropiki. (If you’re wondering about Tropiki please read my article in issue 17 of Exotica Modern.) It fills the ephemeral space between deep smoky exotica and fun fruity island vacation. A wonderful drink and truly a new favorite of mine. I know I say that all the time, but I really enjoy these tropical easy drinking cocktails. The way St. Croix rum adds a creaminess to sweet fruit notes really is exciting.
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Over decades of research and resurgence Jeff Berry has solved one of Don the Beachcomber’s puzzles. But, is coding a good idea?
A brilliant idea to stop recipes from getting out. But devil's advocate, now there are copycats out there denigrating the integrity of the drinks. Even in good faith, trying to deconstruct a Don Beach creation is near impossible. His components were never used in those ways before, there was no precedent to use as a map. Those of a more duplicitous nature didn't even try, mixing inferior fruit juices with unproportionate amounts of rum and covering it all up with tons of sugar.
Those in the know knew where to get the real, but every Donn Vic and Harry across the land serving untenable tropicals is what lead to our beloved Tiki becoming a sacharinnated shell of its former self. Someone should’ve told those knock-offs to friggin’ knock it off. (Pardon my French-Polynesian.)
But what’s the alternative? They had already pilfered his theme, in some cases improving on it, some even stole his name, so what’s a Donn to do, hand over all the secrets? He had to protect his intellectual property and in hindsight it worked. So few people were privy to the recipes that it’s taken Berry decades to decode the proper ingredient combinations. Trader Vic came closest, but only because he went to the same places Donn did and studied under the masters.
The system worked until people stopped caring about getting lesser quality drinks. It’s akin to how being seen sitting at a cafe along A1A in South Beach used to be exclusive, now the sidewalk is lined with restaurants offering outdoor seating each indistinguishable from the next, filled with tourists thinking they’re just like Will Smith. (pre slap, of course). It’s the difference between sipping a margarita from a roadside cantina in Mexico, or getting off the cruise ship and going to Senior Frog’s.
In the end the recipes and legacies have lived on. Not just thanks to Tiki historians, or podcasts or books. Not just thanks to artists and bartenders creating the ambiance. No, the heart of the culture beats everytime one of us true unapologetic Tiki fans buttons up our Hawaiian shirt, finds a dimly lit chair under a glass buoy, and allows ourselves an escape to exotica atop a wave of tropical libation. Make mine a Nui-Nui, Donn. Salute! And Keepi Tiki!
Sources: Sippin’ Safari and Potions of the Caribbean by Jeff “Beachbum” Berry, Wikipedia, Tiki: Modern Tropical Cocktail by Shannon Mustipher.