Tag - tiki drink

The Boo Loo
Original Tiki Drink: The Draugr
Molokai Mule
The Last Drink of Tiki Month: Puka Punch
Braaaaaiiiiinnsssss! (Tiki Drink: The Zombie)
Tiki Drinks: The Haleukelani Cocktail and The Eastern Sour

The Boo Loo

I’m not sure where this drink comes from originally. I found it in Beachbum Berry’s Grog Log, but that tome is unusually silent on the origin, only dating it as circa 1965. Incidentally, that is rather late in the era for a Tiki drink this good. The Boo Loo is apparently a beloved signature offering of Forbidden Island, a Tiki mecca I have never visited. (Any readers out there in the Bay Area need a friend rubbed out?)
I’ve modified this one to suit my equipment, which includes a BlendTec. If you don’t have the horsepower, substitute most of the pineapple for juice.


  • Approx 1/4 small pineapple, peeled and cored
  • 1 1/2 oz. fresh lime juice
  • 1 oz. honey
  • 2 1/4 oz. Lemon Hart Demerara Rum (make 3/4 oz. of this 151 demerara if you can get it)
  • 1 1/2 oz. gold rum
  • 1 1/2 oz. dark rum
  • 1 1/2 oz. club soda

Place fruit, honey, juice, and rum in a burly blender. Blend until only small shreds of pineapple are left. Add a small amount of ice and blend for five seconds. Add club soda. Pour into a large hurricane glass or shell from the pineapple filled with ice. Get cheesy with the garnish.

This delicious, remarkably balanced drink rolls in at over five ounces of liquor (effectively six if you have the 151), so may I recommend two straws?

Original Tiki Drink: The Draugr

Draugr Tiki Drink, a Scandinavian Zombie
I think it is about time, with all this Tiki-blogging, to try to contribute something original. So here I go, throwing caution to the wind and risking ridicule by advancing a fresh drink of my own creation.
Casting about for inspiration, I found myself grinning at the most un-tropical, un-pacific ingredient in my home: A bottle of Swedish lingonberry juice I bought at Ikea recently. Since counter-intuitive is just what I do, I set out to create a Scandinavian Tiki drink, in honor of my favorite Viking Tiki Wench. And since I was going all Scandi here, I also wanted to employ an offering from the Liquor Fairy I got a while back and never reviewed, Krogstad Aquavit. Aquavit is Scandinavian, but Krogstad is not. It’s made in Portland, OR, by the same folks who give us the magnificent Aviation Gin.
Now, both lingonberry and aquavit take a little getting used to for the American palate (or my palate at least), so I wanted a drink where both would be parts in an ensemble, rather than flavor-forward. When you talk Tiki and ensemble, my first thought goes to the marvelously, infinitely variable Zombie. And when you talk Scandinavian zombies, you mean the Draugr.

DRAUGR (Pronounced Droo-GOR, I think)

  • 1 part Krogstad Aquavit
  • 1 part Appleton 12 year old
  • 1 part Lemon Hart demerara rum
  • 1 part Mount Gay Eclipse Silver
  • 1 part fresh lime juice
  • 1 part lingonberry syrup
  • 1/2 part unsweetened pineapple juice

Combine ingredients in a shaker with cracked or small ice. shake briefly and pour into a jeweled chalice looted from a medieval British abbey or monastery. (A crystal snifter or Tiki vessel will do) Garnish with something creepy, like the rambutan fruit shown above.

A product of the fevered inventiveness of the Pegu Blog Laboratories.

Molokai Mule

For tonight’s new Tiki drink, I offer you the Molokai Mule. This was a creation of the Kon-Tiki restaurant in Waikiki, one of a chain of Tiki palaces owned by Steve Crane.
The Molokai Mule is a product of the 1960s and thus an example of the sunset years of Tiki’s greatness. And in it I think that you can see the beginnings of the slow decline. There is everything you would expect to find in a Tiki drink here: Multiple rums, multiple juices, and one of the grand Tiki ingredients — orgeat. But it packs less of an alcoholic punch than earlier examples, both in proportion and in taste. And you can see here in reasonably full flower what some people like to harp on about with Tiki drinks, muddled flavor profiles.


  • 2 parts orange juice
  • 1 part lime juice
  • 1 part orgeat
  • 1 part cognac
  • 1 part light rum
  • 1 part demerara rum

Shake well with ice cubes and pour, with ice, into an appropriate Tiki drinking vessel. Garnish with fresh mint and pineapple, or with pineapple leaves.

I think the main culprit is the orange juice. It kind of overpowers the drink and drowns out the spirits. The cognac in particular might as well not be in there. I don’t bother with freshly squeezing my own OJ, but I think that the Molokai Mule is a case where you might see the difference.
Don’t get me wrong, this is a pleasant tasting drink. I wouldn’t have bothered posting it otherwise. But make it small, or you will likely be bored with it before you finish.
I found this drink via the iPhone app Tiki+. If you want to read more about it in a hold in your hands book (and have a spare 75 bucks) you can find it in Beachbum Berry’s Taboo Table.

The Last Drink of Tiki Month: Puka Punch

Well folks, Tiki Month draws to a close, and I am drinking my last Tiki drink of the festivities. Not my last Tiki drink, of course. This stuff is too damn much fun to let go off permanently. But I have little kids and a wife. I don’t have time to be a Tiki blogger. Besides I love my classic cocktails too much to have more than an occasional fling with the tropics.
I wanted to go out with a bang, so I went searching with some criteria. I had to have read about it from one of the Board of Tiki Idols members’ blogs. It had to use either falernum or orgeat. It had to have pineapple. And it had to be a rum drink. And it had to have a long list of ingredients. In short, it had to be a Tiki drink!
Rick had the answer—a drink he wrote about back in the summer of 2006, when he was first falling permanently under the spell of the volcano gods. I decided to assemble a….
Puka Punch!
Rick got it from Intoxica!,by Beach Bum Berry. You can tell how old this post is by the fact that Rick calls him Jeff Berry. Also, he writes the following words:

In general, I find garnishes to be pretty boring.

Times change, people. That’s all I’m saying. Oh, and I made a few small changes, to suit my lack of passionfruit juice.


  • 1 oz. lime juice
  • 3/4 oz. warm, runny honey
  • 1/4 oz. my homemade falernum
  • 3/8 oz. blueberry syrup
  • 3/8 oz. cold-process grenadine
  • 3/4 oz. orange juice
  • 3/4 oz. pineapple juice
  • 1 oz. Mount Gay Eclipse Silver rum
  • 1 oz. Appleton V/X
  • 3/4 oz. Matusalem Gran Reserve rum
  • 1 good dash Angustora Bitters

Blend ingredients with eight ounces of ice for five seconds. Pour into a fun glass and top up with crushed ice. Float 3/4 ounce 151 rum on the surface.

Rick calls for a fun glass. Okey dokey Tiki Idol, gotcha. This last drink had to be Over The Top Boys, hard core Tiki. I went with a hollowed out fresh pineapple for the vessel. Then I put a sugar cube in a lime shell, soaked the cube with 151, and floated the shell like a boat in the drink. Then I plunked a huge chunk of dry ice down into the drink.
Whadda ya think folks? Did I learn well this month?

Oh, and I learned one other thing. If you put dry ice in a drink, then try to light a garnish on the surface…..

Braaaaaiiiiinnsssss! (Tiki Drink: The Zombie)

The mere word Zombie is one of the most evocative in the modern English language. Both the word and the things it evokes are simultaneously silly and scary.
What is a Zombie? It’s either a dead human somehow still able to stumble around mindlessly, or a drink that allegedly turns living humans into reasonable facsimiles of definition one.
The walking dead kind of zombies are scary because they’re, well, dead. And they want to eat your brains. An entire motion picture industry revolves around finding new ways to produce zombies and put them on screen.
They’re silly because… they are! In practical terms, monsters that move slower than a walk and have no mental acuity require some pretty mental acuity-free victims to chow down on. Memo to movie chicks: If you’d ditch the fragile, four-inch, come-bang-me heels, and instead wear sneakers or flats, the body-count in your films will drop down to something more on the order of The Wiggles: Hot Potato Live!. (Note: Hello to Twitter heads rolling in here from pyngvild!)
The Zombie cocktail is scary because it generally is brewed up with lots of alcohol, some of it traditionally high proof. Then you cover that fire-water up with fruit juices, and syrups, and crushed ice, and Tiki mugs, and paper umbrellas, and fog generators, laser light shows. Or whatever items among that list that you have on hand. Even wearing flats when drinking Zombies won’t save you from the fate of ending up flat on your face at the end of the scene.
The Zombie is silly because… it’s Tiki, damn it. And because it is such marvelous overkill.
Like many of the great Tiki cocktails, Don the Beachcomber claims to be the Zombie’s inventor, with typically scant evidence beyond the fact that he’s Don. And like many of the great Tiki cocktails, if you order one in 99.44% of bars today, you will receive an undrinkably sweet mess made with mostly 151, if you get one at all. It will likely be closer to the Bacardi Rum Punch you get on the Jolly Roger Pirate Cruises you find all over the Caribbean. In short, a modern Zombie is more of a maximum buzz for minimum pucker device, rather than a real cocktail. Which is neither spooky, nor silly, but simply sad.
The fact is, it is hard to establish what is the original Zombie recipe, since it appears in print from different sources, in different forms, all at about the same time. I will print Don’s (or what is alleged to be his, since he guarded his recipes quite jealously) here as a starting point:


  • .75 oz. lime juice
  • .5 oz. Don’s Mix
  • .5 oz. falernum
  • 1.5 oz. jamaican rum
  • 1.5 oz. gold rum
  • 1 oz. 151 demerara rum
  • 1 dash Angustora bitters
  • 6 drops Pernod
  • 1 tsp. grenadine
  • 1 cup crushed ice

Blend for five seconds then serve with a sprig of mint as garnish.

For the record, you approximate Don’s Mix with a 2-1 blend of grapefruit juice and cinnamon simple syrup.
This is not a bad drink. But it is just that, not a bad drink. The majesty of the Zombie comes when you slide into the sweet spot between this bare-bones presentation and the 1990’s debased rum kool-aid.
Last Thursday Drink Night was Zombie Night at the Mixosoleum. I think the Zombie was an excellent choice for the drunken chat room treatment. It is hard to completely screw up a Zombie, if your cocktail heart is pure. Just follow the basic rules of Zombie construction (eat your heart out, Hollywood) as illustrated by Don’s recipe:

  • Include several rums, including one high-proof for scare factor.
  • Mix in several juices, mostly tart or citrus.
  • Add some spices and some sweetener.
  • Blend it briefly.

In addition, time and evolved Tiki tradition demands more garnish than Don’s original sprig of mint.
I actually had some recipes ready for TDN, for the first time. One, the Red-Headed Zombie was a finalist for the night (Yay!), but got exactly zero votes (Boo!).

No votes?
You didn’t vote for yourself?

Shut up. I forgot.


  • 1 oz. Matusalem Gran Reserve
  • 1 oz. Appleton V/X
  • 1 oz. Mount Gay XO
  • 1/2 oz. 151
  • 1 oz. grapefruit juice
  • 1.5 oz. Canton ginger liqueur
  • 1 oz. orgeat
  • .5 oz. cranberry juice
  • .5 oz. pineapple juice

All I’ll say about my version is that Canton is awesome in the Zombie application. It is also the genesis of the name. Ginger, get it?
I have pictures of my Zombie that I took. But they stink on (crushed) ice compared to those taken by BOTI member, Rick Stutz. So I’ll rip his off here as I discuss garnish on a Zombie. I have made the case that the Zombie is one of the most over-the-top Tiki drinks there is, so it needs an over top garnish.
Here was my suggestion: Shake while dancing around like a grass-skirted witch doctor and strain into a pith helmet. Add ice to fill. Garnish with a pineapple spear.
Had I had a pith helmet to hand, you’d see the picture, no matter how dark and muddy. But since I didn’t, here is Rick’s picture, which shows a slightly elaborate but visually very appropriate garnish:
Cool, huh?
During Drink night itself, Rick offered a different picture. One which shows why you do not want to get into a knife fight with the Penguin.
Get the idea of what is needed for Zombie garnish?
The garnish I suggested for my other (less awesome!) Zombie will be the subject of a soon-to-follow post on Tiki garnishes themselves.
Stay tuned!

Tiki Drinks: The Haleukelani Cocktail and The Eastern Sour

board-of-tiki-idolsAmong the requests I made of the Board of Tiki Idols was for Tiki drinks to try that were good and interesting. Tiare was most prolific is sending me links with drinks I could rip off, er, riff on. Among the posts she sent was this one: Tiki Drinks With a Twist. It offers a number of classic Tiki recipes that she modified in one way or another to take into account her own inventory situation. I picked out two drinks that interested me, and set to work.
I chose these two because they are bourbon-based. When I saw this, I was a bit puzzled. Tiki drinks based on liquor from back in the the Hollah? About the only spirit I could think of that made me think less of Tiki was liquor from the highlands of Scotland.

You know Kentucky was settled….

Yes, I know Kentucky was settled in large part by Scots, and yes, I know the geography, economy, culture, etc. of both the Highlands and Appalachia are remarkably similar. And no, I don’t intend to go into it further right now. That’s another post, for another day, in (most to the point) another month. For right now, let’s just say whisk(e)y in general is not what I think of when I think of Tiki.

Of course not.
Tiki is about Rum, Rhum, and Rum!

You know, I can lock you in again….
The point is, I was intrigued. And since Tiara is among my muses, I followed.
Let us start with the Halekulani Cocktail, pronounced (I think) hall-AY-koo-lon-ee, from a bar with thr awesome name of the House Without a Key Lounge.


  • 1.5 oz. Maker’s Mark bourbon
  • .5 oz. unsweetened pineapple juice
  • .5 oz. lemon juice
  • .5 oz. orange juice
  • splash grenadine
  • splash homemade maraschino cherry juice
  • 1 dash Angustora bitters

Shake over ice and strain into a cognac glass filled with fresh ice.

First off, I made a further change to Tiara’s changes. I had no passionfruit liqueur, so I substituted maraschino cherry juice. Also, she calls for a half a teaspoon. Doug can’t measure that small….
The resulting cocktail is pretty good. The overall character is a bit sour, but pleasantly so. The Angustora is detectable but more in the form of a slight edge, rather than bitterness. The Maker’s is a good bourbon here. I don’t see a cheaper bourbon as being very friendly, and a much fancier product would confuse the issue, rather than enhance it. And bourbon this whiskey must be. The unique caramel sweetness you seem to only get from Kentucky is needed to give this drink its nice balance.
I will say that overall it is a bit two-dimensional, particularly for a Tiki drink. The luxurious, meandering garden of flavors is more focused here. Still, it is gorgeous and tasty. Serve it on the rocks in a highball with a single cherry and no one need know you are offering them up to the Tiki gods!
Tiare’s other bourbon offering is the Eastern Whiskey Sour. It was invented by Trader Vic to honor the opening of his restaurant location in that natural Tiki Mecca, Toronto.
Here Tiara made four major changes to the Trader’s recipe, one of ingredient, several of degree. I found hers to be an improvement, but I’ll put Vic’s here. Go read her post for the improved version.


  • .5 oz. orange juice
  • .5 oz. lemon juice
  • 2 oz. bourbon
  • dash of orgeat
  • dash of simple syrup

Shake with ice and pour without straining into glass. Garnish with a sprig of mint and a fruit stick.

Tiare uses lime juice, and a lower concentration of bourbon.
This drink is actually tastier to me than the Halekulani, but is even less Tiki-like.

It’s a Whiskey Sour….

True. The point to examine here is that the flavors meld so well together that they lose much individuality, especially in Tiare’s version. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just not too Tiki to me. The Eastern Sour has wonderful first flavor, and a wonderful last. They just happen to be the same, so it hardly a challenging drink. Sling one together for your more novice guests, who won’t feel gypped by being denied the chance to spend five minutes describing their cocktail.
Oh, and the Eastern Sour could probably benefit a bit more than the Halekulani from a higher-end bourbon than Maker’s, if you like. I haven’t tried one, but if you do, let me know if it’s an improvement.

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