Descending for the first time from the bustling modern world that is the Hilton hotel in downtown Atlanta an irrevocable excitement washed over me with a flood of endorphins. Not simply from the awe of a luxury multilevel atrium trimmed out with granite and leather. Humble-brag alert: I actually have stayed in fancy hotels before. No, this happy-anxiety was more like the feeling I got as a child tossing in bed before dawn on Christmas morning. The hopeful air palpable and thoughts replete with wonder. This was my descending transportation away from gas prices and social media; my escape into paradise. This was my first visit to an original Tiki temple.
Leaving the world of skyscrapers and metal high above, as the elevator doors opened, I stepped out into a paradismal paradox, a South Seas sojourn, a titillating tropical timewarp. Easter Island heads and tall tiki totems hid around the corners of rock walls emanating a mystical red glow. High back bamboo and rattan chairs leaned against wood paneled walls offset with Polynesian style art. A small greeters table stood alone with one dim lamp flanked by colorful tribal tiki faces painted on the walls. Beyond that two wooden columns supporting an A-frame archway with a wooden sign reading: Trader Vic’s.
Through those doors my tiki world was changed forever. I’ve visited some wonderful Tiki bars that have exceeded my expectations of what traditional Tiki should be. But this? This was without a doubt, beyond debate, ultimately and exactly what true Tiki was, is, and forever shall be.
I arrived an hour early for my reservation to sit at the bar where I promptly ordered a Mai Tai and began picking the bartender’s brain. Chatting about everything from the original Mai Tai, training newbies on the nuances of Tiki, to modern riffs. And I hung on every word as if he was a professor whilst studying the drink menus like textbooks. I say menus because he even brought out an older menu with the full list of traditional Trader drinks on it.
The first Mai Tai was a bit sweet for me so he then made me a 1944 “from scratch” version. The rums really came out in this one and I sipped and talked while taking in every detail I could soak up. The pufferfish and glass ship buoys hanging from the ceiling, the vast array of bottles lining the wooden shelves, and shark jaws perched along the wall with oars and boat parts. Next I ordered a Fogcutter, in its large traditional mug complete with hula girls, and that’s where my mental escape from reality really began.
On the walk to my table in the rear of the dining room I mused on tapa cloth draped walls adorned with tribal masks, shields, and spears. Bamboo partitions separated certain areas of the dining room all utilizing classic bamboo furniture while tablecloths and fine settings offered a regal juxtaposition. The ornate wood-work of the ceiling’s support trusses, large driftwood logs crisscrossed with smaller dowels akin to kapa art, the whole ordeal lit by glowing ship buoys and hanging lamps, beamed me to a far away southeast Asian island. From my small table I had a view of the entire dining room to my right, and to my left a large glass wall viewed a terrarium featuring elephant ear fan plants, tropical foliage, and a small Easter Island head keeping watch over it all. My description barely does justice to the depth of detail to Tiki decor and the elation I felt in being surrounded by it.
I ordered another drink, the Ku Anuanu, which came in Trader Vic’s signature Marqueasian mug. That one truly did me in and I was ready to feast on crab rangoons and an entree of fried rice. I even got a tableside visit from the GM, Maurice Pinder, for a small Tiki chat.
The entire experience had such a profound effect on me I just knew I had to cover a Trader Vic drink on the next episode of Pod Tiki. But which one? I knew I wasn’t ready to tackle the Fogcutter yet so I settled on the Ku Anuanu. I even purchased the mug, but upon returning to my Tiki tomes I could not for the life of me find a recipe. So, I reached out to Trader Vic’s with an inquiry. Much to my chagrin I got the runaround trying to decipher the drink. I haven’t given up yet, but with all the endeavors I was running out of time to begin the episode.
Searching through all my books I couldn’t come up with one that stood out to me. Amid the treasure trove of classic Vic recipes I needed one that spoke to me and the vibe of the show. But we’ve already covered the Mai Tai and Vic made so many other legendary drinks. So, today I want to cover a more esoteric recipe. One found in only one of my books but which has intrigued me for years.
It was while researching Trader Vic’s story using Jeff Berry’s Potions of the Caribbean that I came across a drink I had earmarked the first time I saw it. One that shows Vic's prowess as a mixologist and a showman. One who’s ingredient list reads like a gustatory voyage through the West Indies. A recondite cocktail of mystical proportions. Get out your gri-gri’s and gird yourself against black magic because today we’re making Voodoo Grog!
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Trader Vic’s brought to Tiki a truly Polyneasian Pop version of what Don the Beachcomber created. Expounding on the sense of escapism Amercians were in dire need of amid a post-war depression Vic was arguably the more successful of the two. Where Donn Beach’s eclectic ephemeral style truly was the epitome of a swashbuckling beachcomber, Vic’s trader persona curated a specific ambiance by design. The experience of dining and true transportative escapism was just as important to Vic as the drinks. This has earned him a rightful place in not only Tiki culture, but Americana. But who was Trader Vic?
Victor Jules Bergeron, Jr was born December 10, 1902 in San Francisco to a French mother and French Canadian father. Little Vic grew up no stranger to adversity. Always a sickly child, a bout with tuberculosis landed him in the hospital for two years resulting in the amputation of his left leg at the tender age of six. And that’s about the last time anyone could say Vic was tender.
His first introduction to cooking came from his parents. Coming from meager beginnings he would forage, shoot doves, and fish of which his mom would then use as ingredients in family meals. His parents also made wine from whatever they could find to ferment. Perhaps this is where Vic learned an appreciation for mixing odd and exotic flavor combinations.
Vic’s maladies plagued him well into his thirties while he tried his hand at a plethora of odd jobs until his tuberculosis would eventually flare up and he’d lose the gig. It reminds me of Bukowski’s Factotum, just swap alcoholism for tuberculosis.
So, Vic began picking up shifts at his uncle’s bar, opting for the night shift to avoid his uncle who he never got along with. Problem was, Vic knew nothing about mixing drinks. What he lacked in experience though, he made up for in carisma. Vic perfected various bar tricks like the classic beer mug slide across the bar and entertaining patrons with antics like sticking a fork in his wooden leg. In these piratical makings Vic was unknowingly crafting his future narrative, or at least learning how to.
Following a fight with his uncle Vic quit the bar and borrowing $800 opened a competing business across the street, naming it Hinky Dinks after an old French song lyric. He fixed up easy drinks and served small plates from the stove commandeered from his own house. Vic’s keen eye for reading people and giving them what they want quickly became apparent. He noticed people coming in spending money on booze and grub they clearly couldn’t afford, realizing that folks just needed an escape from the hardship of life during the depression, a place they could forget about the world outside for a few hours. Kinda reminds me a bunch of something we all recently went through in 2020. Utilizing his penchant for theatrics Vic leaned into ambiance transforming Hinky Dinks into an Alaskan style hunting lodge. Complete with deer heads and firs lining the walls.
The bar was limping along as best one could for the times. Vic groused about on his wooden leg playing up the persona of disgruntled barkeep with a bit of showmanship. I bet he never thought on a trip with his wife to L.A. in 1937 that his whole life was about to change.
Victor and his wife noticed a long line of people wrapped around the block. A much ado bustle filled with stars and onlookers. At first they thought it was a movie premier. Thinking back to my clubbing days I imagine Vic hearing the muffled thumping of tribal bass drums while torch flames glowed like neons. Perhaps instead of a douchey college age bouncer in an undersized t-shirt Vic spotted a man wearing a pencil thin mustache, khaki linen shirt and adorned with a wide brim panama hat folded up around the edges resembling a straw bowl. For at this moment Victor Bergeron found himself standing at the precipice of Tiki history. He found himself at Don the Beachcomber’s.
Inside Vic was smitten. It looked like Polynesia, and moreover the people in attendance dressed like they were on a South Seas vacation. They were into it. There was a feel, a scene. People were escaping in a flurry of the whole thing and more importantly to Vic … they were buying into it. Don the Beachcomber’s was serving upwards of 900 patrons every weekend. Vic saw the ice cones, he saw Don’s vast collection of Polynesian ephemera, and most of all he saw the drinks!
Vic went to the Beachcomber’s every night for a week and approached Donn with a business venture. Vic wanted to open a chain of Polynesian restaurants and even offered to keep Donn’s name on them. Precluding what may have been the greatest team-up in Tiki history Don brushed Vic off as another imposter trying to steal his recipes. Admittingly Donn was a bit gun-shy regarding business proposals after prematurely selling his company off to his now ex-wife. Oops. Vic being, well, Vic, took this as a challenge to beat Don at his own game. Vic simply said, “I felt I could do it better.”
There was just one small thing. Vic had never left the country let alone traversed the south seas. His extent of exotica was eating at Chinese restaurants. But, Vic wasn’t down to just fake it or poach bartenders to make some knock-off joint. Luckily, with the Beachcomber’s menu naming drinks the Cuban Daiquiri, Barbados Punch, and Martinique Cocktail, as well as hotels like the Myrtle Bank and Queen’s Park Don pretty much laid out a map for Vic to follow. Thus, in 1938, Vic set out on a tour of the West Indies in search of flavor, decor, and a little magic.
He learned all about punches and swizzles and one of sour, two of sweet, three of strong, four of weak. Then he made his way to famed Hemingway haunt La Floridita in Havana, Cuba. Where most of Don’s rhum rhapsodies were based on punch recipes Vic found his own rumgenuity using the daiquiri as a base, and there was no place better to learn than the place it was invented by the man who made it famous. Constantino Ribalaigua Vert was the first bartender to perfect the daiquiri. His use of the newly invented drink mixer and shaved ice informed tropical cocktail preparation forever while additions of maraschino liqueur, grapefruit and hand squeezed lime brought the classic Cuban daiquiri to new heights. Listen back to our daiquiri episode for an in depth exploration. In Havana Vic befriended Constantino, studying under the master like a sorcerer’s apprentice. He took notes on the art of frappe and mixing high end flavors in drinks like the Presidente. Vic claims he would lay in bed at night thinking about the daiquiri, dissecting each ingredient list in his head. His eager diligence paid off because before leaving Cuba Constantino gave Vic permission to use some of his recipes. Vic applied what he learned to decades of drink building while always crediting Constantino for his classic La Floridita Daiquiri. More than can be said for the legion of rip-off artists to come.
By 1938 Vic had returned to Hinky Dinks with a dream in his heart and a scheme in his head. Having completed a crash course in Caribbean drinking, Vic purchased $8000 in exotica artifacts from Don the Beachcomber, whose high spirit but lack of business acumen found him rebooting his career in Honolulu. Vic then hired some Chinese cooks to serve up exotic fare adjusted for the American palate. This may sound odd to us now, but remember this was 1938. There was no P.F. Chang’s and the Panda Express was still a derogatory term.
Side note: Despite his cultural shortcomings in hindsight, Vic actually contributed much to the culinary world of Chinese/American food. For it was Victor Bergeron, a one legged boy from San Francisco, that invented crab rangoons.
Around this time Vic’s wife, Esther, which is the perfect 1930’s wife’s name, began calling him a nickname based on the fact he was constantly bartering for a bargain with everyone from liquor vendors to Polynesian artists. Everything in Vic’s life had inadvertently been leading up to this point and he used his real persona as a base for embellishment in the same way he used the daiquiri to jumpstart a Tiki empire. And so it came to pass, Hinky Dinks was officially rebranded: Trader Vic’s.
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Initially Trader Vic’s drink menu consisted of Caribbean inspired drinks as well as some reverse engineered Beachcomber classics, like the Zombie. He would employ this tactic later with other popular favorites the likes of Joe Schialom’s Suffering Bastard, more on that later. But Vic always did it in a way that made the drink his own, rather than a disillusioned knock-off. Another thing he did to separate himself from Donn was to incorporate drinks from places besides the Caribbean but that were still “exotic” to the average American. Drinks like the Singapore Sling and Pimm’s Cup.
Ever still, Trader Vic was no slouch behind the bar. He began experimenting and creating a myriad of original recipes. Rather than mixing rums like Donn, Vic toyed with blending multiple base spirits as evidenced in his Scorpion, (rum and cognac), and expounded upon in the Samoan Fogcutter, (rum, cognac, gin, and sherry). I can attest personally that the Fogcutter does in fact induce the fog rather than cut it!
Now, although I often forego elaborate garnishes I am a big fan of fit and finish. I like to drink from the appropriate glass, hold it correctly, and whether I’m enjoying a cocktail, a cigar, or a meal, I prefer the experience almost over the quality of the product. At least I expect it to add to the ambiance. Allow me to explain. I want the packaging of both the product and the environment to match the experience. Whether smoking a fine cigar while sipping French brandy, or puffing a stogie with a light beer, I want the experience to match the occasion. And it’s not about money, but one calls for a smoking jacket and suede shoes while the other a panama hat and linen shirt. The milieu of experience, if you will.
Vic also knew the power of presentation and was a marketing master being the first to serve his concoctions in “Tiki mugs”, eventually creating his own branded exclusives. Wherein Donn built an empire on his own experiences, Vic knew where to embellish without losing that air of perceived authenticity. Both men employed hyperbole, but it’s my humble opinion that Donn used it to create a mythos around himself while Vic used it to promote his brand.
Trader Vic’s was moreover a dining experience. Using the same strategy he did with cocktail education he traveled to Japan, Thailand, and Bengali for inspiration in the kitchen. He used his passion for preponderance in renaming dishes like Bok Choy into Fried Monkey Leaves. Again, it was a different time.
The tickets rose as did the prices as did the clientele. Soon Trader Vic’s was a rich part of American culture and Trader Vic was a rich man. He expanded his empire from Oakland to San Fran and eventually across the Continental U.S. as far as Atlanta. As per usual wherever there is enterprising we can find our old friend Conrad Hilton quick to cash in. Vic landed a deal with Hilton hotels garnering him locations from Hawaii to the Caribe Hilton in Puerto Rico where a Trader VIc’c restaurant graced the bottom floor even though famous bartender Joe Schialom ran the hotel bar program upstairs. I have to assume this is where Vic came across the Suffering Bastard. I say this because no matter where new locations opened Vic would fly his private jet out to each one to oversee operations, his wooden leg and gruff demeanor lending to the Trader Vic persona. Vic ruled his 20 stores with an iron fist and draconian attention to detail. Decor, drinks, food, and service had to be top notch.
One of his famous exclusivities was the Captain's Cabin, a raised and partitioned area in each location, reserved for special guests, where one had a complete and secluded view of the dining area while being in view of other patrons. The place to be seen, indeed.
But what truly solidified Trader Vic in the pantheon of Tiki began with the Madson Line and possibly the most famous Tiki drink of them all.
The story as he tells it: Vic was entertaining friends at his original Oakland bar in 1944 when he took down a bottle of Wray N Nephew 17 year old Jamaican rum. A golden, medium bodied number with rich funk. Not wanting to overpower the delectable spirit he cautiously added some lime juice, a tad of orange Curacao, and some sweets cut with his signature ingredient, orgeat, an almond based syrup of French origin. One has to think his parent’s nationalities had something to do with that. He shook it with ice for texture and dilution giving the first two ever made to his visitors from Tahiti, Ham and Carrie Guild. Upon taking the first sip Carrie exclaimed the Tahitian phrase for “Awesome!”. She said, Mai Tai! And the rest is history.
When the Madson Line, owners of the Moana and Royal Hawaiian hotels in Waikiki began a cruise line they reached out to Vic to create the drink menu. Though the Mai Tai was buried deep on the list it soon caught fire and gained favor as the Hawaiian tourist drink of choice. Vic’s original recipe gave way to a multitude of variants leading to the distinction of the Hawaiian Mai Tai. For more on that read the De-Evolution of the Hawaiian Mai Tai by Kevin Crossman in issue 15 of Exotica Moderne.
Ever the quarrelsome competitors, it was over the Mai Tai that Don the Beachcomber and Trader Vic sparked the Tiki torch of controversy. Don claims the Mai Tai was copied from his QB Cooler, but the two share very little and former Trader Vic’s employees corroborate Vic’s telling of the origin. This seems like a desperate attempt by Donn to make up for blowing Vic off all those years ago. I’m inclined to believe Vic, but we’ve already covered the Mai Tai and there’s an update episode planned for the future. Till then I leave this debate with Vic’s famous response to doubters, “Anyone who says I didn’t create the drink is a stinker.”
Continuing to build his legacy Trader Vic’s soon boasted a line of rums, drink mixes, frozen foods, merchandise, cookbooks, and copycats, but still carries the weight and providence of the man who helped invent Tiki as we know it.
To steal a line from Breaking Bad, Trader Vic was not in the bar business, he was in the empire business. And his vast arsenal of drinks informed a genre for decades to come. Including this lowly podcaster when I first came upon the recondite but exemplary recipe for Voodoo Grog. Let’s make a drink!
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The Voodoo grog was created by Vic sometime around 1950 and really showcases his culinary style of building cocktails. The list of flavors are like an island hopping adventure. From rich allspice, to sweet honey, to herbaceous agricole. As is the case with a lot of these lesser known drinks we don’t have an origin story or explanation, but the odd thing about it is that it seems more akin to a Beachcomber recipe than Vic’s usual approach. We know Vic made a few attempts at deconstructing the Navy Grog. He eventually got there, but this to me feels like an early attempt that perhaps he liked so much it became its own thing. That’s pure conjecture on my part, but when you compare the ingredients it seems very similar. If not a Navy Grog attempt, it was at least a riff. What sets it apart is the rum selection, and ingredient amounts. So, let’s run it down. We’re gonna need two rums. First a gold Puerto Rican. I think Bacardi 8yr is the best option for stuff like this. It’s great for sipping or mixing and won’t break the bank. I recently tried the 10yr and let me tell you, some things don’t get better with age. I honestly prefer the 8. I feel like it has more flavor and less burn. Then we’ll need a rhum agricole vieux. I happen to have a bottle of Clement VSOP on hand and that’s never let me down before. If you happen to come across the Clement Select Barrel, try that. It’s $10 cheaper and is more like the blanc in grassy flavor. I think it would work in this drink for reasons I will discuss later.
For our fruits we want lime and grapefruit juices. If I have to tell you by this point to always use fresh squeezed sours you can just turn in your Tiki card now, and may Moai have mercy on your soul. Full transparency, the recipe specifically calls for white grapefruit, but it’s August in east Tennessee and I know it sounds crazy in this Amazon age that we can’t get whatever we want delivered to our door in 2hrs, but white grapefruit is not in season till November. So, whaddya want from me, eh?
For sweet we have two of my favorite ingredients, honey and Passion Fruit Syrup. I use Liber & Co for the passion fruit. It’s the best I’ve tasted to date. I usually prefer to make my own syrups, and passion fruit syrup is pretty simple, fruit-sugar-water, but again, it’s not like I can run to Publix in Nashville and grab a passion fruit. Honestly, though, the Liber is pretty damn good. Sometimes farmer’s markets will have some homemade options, so check there as well.
The honey is interesting. Vic’s recipe calls for a half ounce of clover honey to be mixed into the lime juice before adding the other ingredients. It would appear Vic hadn’t caught on to Donn’s Honey Mix, a 1:1 honey to water syrup that makes using honey in a drink so much easier. Otherwise it ends up a sticky mess in your jigger and so much ends up not coming out. Now, loathe am I to question a master’s methods, and knowing how methodically Vic mixed I wanted to stay true to the way he made it. But, I tried it both ways and truly found zero difference in flavor or texture. There’s so many stronger flavors in here that it’s pretty much a background note anyway. So, I used the honey syrup for ease.
Pimento Dram is an allspice liqueur that we went in depth on in our Five Fall Jamaicans episode last fall. I love this ingredient. It’s rich and smooth in both flavor and texture. It adds a creamy complexity to so many classic drinks, most notably paired with its cousin Jamaican rum in drinks like Ancient Mariner, Montego Bay, and 2070 Swizzle. I use St. Elizabeth’s brand because it’s readily available. It’s so good, but a little goes a long way. When the usual amount is only a quarter to half ounce Vic’s use of 3/4 ounce in this recipe may look superfluous, but somehow it works.
The last main ingredient is egg white. This is used to create a nice froth and smooth creamy texture. Most people I’ve seen make this recipe complain of being grossed out by the egg, but I like what it adds to cocktails. Ever since my friend and Nashville bartender extraordinaire Jacob Forth began using it in his craft cocktails years ago I fell in love with it. Vic apparently was not afraid either. Simply crack the egg into two halves and slowly spread them apart keeping the yolk intact letting the white seep out. Then roll the yolk between the two halves, using them like bowls, allowing any excess white to come off. Pro-tip I learned from Spike’s Breezeway Cocktail Hour on YouTube; do this process over a separate cup ahead of time so if the yolk breaks or drops out you don’t waste a half made drink.
Alright, you ready to get groggy wit it? This is a blended drink so, into a blender cup add:
1 oz Gold Puerto Rico Rum
1 oz Rhum Agricole Vieux
¾ oz Lime Juice
¾ oz Grapefruit Juice
¾ oz Pimento Dram
¼ oz Honey Syrup
½ oz Passion Fruit Syrup
1 Egg White
1 cup Crushed Ice
Blend on high for a full 20 seconds. We want that egg to really get beat into the drink. Pour unstrained into a Voodoo tumbler and wait for the foam to rise a bit. Then dust with ground nutmeg and garnish with mint and a pineapple spear. Wha-la!
I don’t always go all out on garnishes but because I love pineapple I went ahead and did on this one. It’s pretty easy, just cut the top and bottom off a pineapple, cut off the rind, then simply slice the fruit into long rectangles like french fries.
Before we go into the drink let’s talk about the Voodoo grog tumbler. Trader Vic used his own unique Tiki mugs and glassware adding to the presentation and exclusivity of his libations. The Voodoo tumbler begins with a narrow base, lined with gold rings, that curves out into the bulb of the glass then tapering to the top. It’s adorned with gold masks around the sides that resemble more of an Egyptian style than Polynesian. Hunting these vintage mugs down has become a business of its own with originals fetching between $50 and $100. I found a set of 8 online for $975, or the new version from the website for $35. Choose your own adventure. They initially came in a translucent evergreen or light blue, but the modern day version on Vic’s website come in solid black when available. I was able to procure one of these later models which is what I used for this episode. Made by Imperial Glass Company Vic loved using custom mugs as evidenced by the Voodoo Grog, Fogcutter, Port Light, and Suffering Bastard to name a few.
Okay, so, the drink. Immediately I tasted allspice and passion fruit in the forefront with underlying grapefruit. As I drank on a sweet-tart candy came out while the texture was creamy with an allspice finish lingering on the palate.
The choice of rums here is odd to me as I would want something deeper and richer. You can’t really taste the rums. I did try it with dark Jamaican but it didn’t seem to add anything. In this regard I wonder why Vic went with the harder to get agricole, unless perhaps it wasn’t as difficult for him to obtain.
Now, to get philosophical with it, it does have a mystical appeal albeit leaving something to be desired. This was a drink I liked more the more times I made it. It seems to hit the extremes of high sweet-sour-fruit, and deep rich honey-allspice, but without a mid section in the profile. Like a 90’s car stereo system, all subwoofers and tweeters, no mids. It’s like he made a mash-up of a daiquiri and a punch. It’s kind of magical because it’s like having two drinks in your mouth at once. Maybe the Voodoo is that he made it work.
I thought I didn’t like it at first, but it’s like it changes on your palate. It’s unique and a bit of a stunt. It’s a fun off balance concoction that dances a little tribal hum on the palate vacillating between two extremes with no connecting bridge. It simultaneously leaves me relaxed but confused and anxious. But then, if you find yourself on vacation suddenly taking part in a Voodoo ceremony it would induce confusion and anxiety. In that sense it works to reflect its namesake. It tastes like stumbling into a place you don’t belong, but my motto has always been - wherever you go, act like you’re supposed to be there.
All in all, it’s a very unique drink that I feel I will be begrudgingly adding to my repertoire because I don’t know why I like it. It shouldn’t make sense. It’s a quixotic conundrum. Is the taste really changing in my mouth? Do these flavors really go together or not? Does this contrasting texture to flavor profile really exemplify the work of a master mixologist? Or, is it just the Voodoo?
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Trader Vic. The man, the myth, the legend, the Tiki god. In the wake of Don the Beachcomber Vic took the nascent style of Tiki and by furthering it, made it a genre. Without his contributions Tiki may very well have fizzled out with Donn Beach.
What Donn did for Tiki drinks Vic did for the dining experience. Always remaining self-deprecating about his own style. He repeatedly obfuscated his own passion by talking crap about the foodies and so called connaisseurs that critiqued his recipes. In his loud cursing manner to the very end when he passed in 1984, Vic always referred to himself as nothing more than a saloonkeeper, and held to his belief that mixology was only a bunch of hokum.
Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Tony and this has been Pod Tiki.
Of course when dealing with Tiki from the 1930’s cultural appropriation and misrepresentation is always a concern. In doing this episode and using the terminology herein I mean no disrespect to the Voodoo religion or its practitioners. One of the things I cherish about Tiki is its incorporation of all different cultures and locales, albeit not always in the most politically correct ways. Besides, the denigration of the term “cultural appropriation” is something I take umbrage with. For without appropriating certain things and spreading them around to other cultures how can we expect to learn and grow as a society? As an Italian-American who lives apart from his family I am glad there are Italian restaurants.
Sources: Potions of the Caribbean by Jeff Beachbum Berry, news.critiki.com, Spikes Breezeway Cocktail Hour, Wikipedia.
Plugs: YouTube, Instagram, Website, surfside sips.
Most of all, thank you for listening, and Keepi Tiki!