Midday, sun shining, the side east of Nashville. Two of them lumbering down the street. Sounds of the city, passing cars-laughing tourists. And the two of them, incongruent, dislocated, hunger growing. Emotion; flittering elation, desire, rage, sadness, then the overwhelming numb. Warm breezes weave scents; the pungent perfumes of the living. And the two of them, soulless empty eyes. Two bodies ambling about without agency. Time seems simultaneously to speed up and slow down as the world around them becomes a distant dream. A wonderland of exotica, a realm of inhibition. The two of them going, going...without knowing where or why, a dizzy trance. Occupying an existence somewhere between limitation and manipulation, restraint and insanity. They’re making their transformation, to something...in between. What began as an innocent date to the Tiki bar begot an uncanny metamorphosis. The two wretches in question? Myself and my lovely fiance perambulating through flashes of ourselves like the living dead. The story you’re about to hear is a cautionary tale. Not for the weak of heart or light of disposition. Ladies and gentlemen, guys and dolls today we unearth the Zombie.
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As with most tiki drinks the myth of the Zombie actually begins in the Caribbean. The etymology of the word Zombie is almost as convoluted as trying to figure out who really invented the Mai Tai. We can trace various versions to West African terms meaning god, fetish, or soul. But the derivation we are most familiar with in these our modern end times would be the Haitian folklore concerning the reanimated dead. Corpse revival, if you will. (That’s an easter egg for a later episode.)
Another similarity with tiki culture is that most of our understanding of the Zombie stems from exaggerated and sensationalized accounts of indiginous practices, in this case Voodoo. Haiti, a marvelous culture complete with a vivid landscape of revolution and historical misinformation. Like most Caribbean islands forever marred by colonialism Haiti suffered the fate of being “discovered” by ol’ Chris Columbus. Since then, like anything foreign, the practices of native islanders have been twisted to meet the expectations of wide eyed and unfortunately sometimes xenophobic sensibilities of the west. To be completely transparent most of tiki culture is an appropriation of exaggerated concepts. And that’s ok! I believe we should use the mistakes of history as an opportunity to learn about new cultures and have some fun with rum along the way.
From here we all know the legend. Reanimated corpses brought back to either do the bidding of a master or reunite a lost loved one or in the case of modern sci-fi to feast on those sweet sweet brains. And much like imbibing in too many Zombie cocktails rarely any good comes of it. I imagine when this staple tiki cocktail was created in 1934 the liken was to the soulless fugue wanderer more than the voracious flesh eating monster so depicted today. Although I have been known to devour some pizza delivery after a few too many tiki drinks.
The tale of the Zombie cocktail is not much different. A potion transforms a person into... something else. Our story reacquaints us once again to our paradismal progenitor Mr. Don Beach. Legend has it Beach whipped up the concoction for a hung-over patron so he could get through a business meeting. The person returned a few days later saying the drink turned him into a Zombie for days. Cool story, bro. But just Because it fits like grass skirts and coconut bras into our Tiki mythos does not make it true. According to Mr. Beach himself the tale is unfortunately apocryphal.
You see, Don The Beachcomber’s recipes were well conceptualized and practiced works of cocktailia. His recipes so highly guarded that the bottles used to hold his sundry ingredients were labeled in code rather than the original packaging. Don created his own variants of syrups and elixirs, such as “Don’s Mix”, or Don’s Spices #2 and #4, respectively. Therefore, claiming the meticulously measured 8-10 ingredients in the Zombie creation were simply slapped together as a hangover cure is insulting to the rumgenuity of the great Don of the Beach. (I think I just coined “rumgenuity” for the books.)
Don Beach didn’t just use a base spirit and add mixers. He assiduously combined different rums to create new and unique flavors. We can never be sure if he invented or just popularized this technique but one thing can be said with utmost certainty, he perfected it. All this to say nothing of his Dr. Frankenstein level experimentation with fruit juices and spices. His recipes resemble a wizards grocery list. So, considering all this how did we ever discover the recipe to a tiki drink that predates the Mai Tai by a decade? That was thanks to Tiki historian Jeff “Beachbum” Berry.
In 1994, to decipher Beach’s lost recipe Berry ventured out on a quest that would make Dan Brown jealous. After years of chasing ill-fated leads Jeff Berry came across the old notebook of one of Don The Beachcomber’s original bartenders. Several of the recipes discovered preceded the restructured 1940 drink menu. This lending validation that the Zombie recipe found in the notebook, which sat dormant for decades in an old shirt pocket, was most likely the original 1934 recipe. (I’m not gonna say it was a Hawaiian shirt, but it’d sure be cool if it was, man).
This is why I personally love Tiki culture. It’s escapism. It’s wonderment. It’s an idealistic vision of a paradismal place in our minds eye. Haitian zombie lore and Tahitian gods. The two clash, yet are eerily similar. And much like the ingredients in our titular cocktail the nuances carry on together in quixotic, exotic, majesty.
So with that being said, let’s make a drink!
And oh my friends, what a drink it is. I’m not exaggerating saying this recipe reads like the inventory of a witches cupboard. Notwithstanding we must remember that most tiki drinks are derivations of the classically simple Planter’s Punch. You all know the cadence by now, 1 of sour 2 of sweet 3 of strong 4 of weak. Bubble bubble toil and trouble. What makes this libation such a work of art is how much trial and error, know how, and down right RUMgenuity went into crafting such a complex concoction.
You’re going to need some small measuring tools; a cocktail dropper, and a ½ tsp. If you don’t have a dropper a ⅛ tsp should suffice. This is for the anise. The original recipe does call for absinthe, which is a bit more floral and herbaceous, but Jeff Berry and most modern tiki bars substitute for Pernod. Both are French distilled anise based spirits save the difference that decent absinthe will run you upwards of $50 a bottle whereas Pernod lives around the $30 range. If you’re an absinthe drinker go ahead and splurge but for our purposes it’s unnecessary. And I tend to be a cocktail purist otherwise. Next you will need some Falernum, a rum based Barbadian liqueur with hints of clove, ginger, and almond that will surely affect your Barbadian rhythm. (Pause for dad joke.) This you may have to track down. It should be around the Compari, Luxardo, and Vermouth isle.
Now, here come the rums. (Queue dramatic music.) We start with the tiki staple, Dark Jamaican rum. For that funk we all know and love my go-to is Myer’s Dark. Next is our filler rum, Puerto Rican Gold. I say filler as this ingredient adds more body than flavor. I reach for my old friend Bacardi Gold in this case. If the drink lacks body for your palate try upgrading this to the Bacardi 4yr. And last but certainly not least - 151 Demerara rum. Jeff Berry suggests Lemon Hart 151 Demerara from Guyana, and that’s what I use. I know what you may be thinking, “Whoa, that’s a lot of rum. I’ll just leave the 151 or the gold out.” Alas, I tell thee! The balance of this drink is such that any alteration of ingredients will throw the flavor profile into utter disarray. After all, what did Jeff “Beachbum” Berry so diligently face the perilous turmoils of Tiki for if you just go sloshing any old half-ass abomination into some plastic souvenir cup? Are you a man, or are you a … Zombie?
Rounding out our list we will need some grenadine, (store bought is fine), fresh lime juice, Angostura bitters, and finally the illustrious Don’s Mix. Don’s Mix is made by combining 2 parts fresh white grapefruit juice and 1 part cinnamon syrup. Red grapefruit is fine too and any old cinnamon syrup used for coffee or cocktails will work. If you want to get fancy and make your own cinnamon syrup it’s water and sugar boiled with cinnamon sticks, knock yourself out. I just add the grapefruit juice to the store bought cinnamon syrup in a little cup and stir.
Ideally you want a blender handy, but it’s not essential. If you don’t have one use a shaker, otherwise mix the following in your blender. Ahem…
¾ oz Lime Juice
½ oz Falernum
½ oz Don’s Mix
1 tsp Grenadine
2 dashes Angostura Bitters
6 drops Pernod
1½ oz Dark Jamaican Rum
1½ oz Puerto Rican Gold Rum
1 oz 151 Demerara Rum
1 cup crushed ice
Yep, you read that right. Dump all that rum in there and make peace with your loved ones. Then go ahead and blend or shake it up. The ice serves the dual purpose of watering the potion down and when blended adds a frothiness when poured into your favorite vessel for debauchery. I recommend pouring that baby then adding cubed iced. I find that the blended crushed ice is perfect but too much in the glass will change the flavor of the drink too fast. You all know how much of a stickler I am for using proper glassware. The Zombie of course, I believe, should be served in some variation of scary or aggressive face tiki mug. But this cocktail comes in many vessels. The skull glass, the wide collins glass, the hurricane glass, all acceptable methods of debaucherous delivery for this salacious serum.
But wait, there’s more! I’m not big on garnish unless it appeals to the flavor or olfactory senses, but much like the lure of Zombie culture itself the pageantry of this garnish is worth the price of admission. Check this out, six episodes in and we finally get to light shit on fire! Take one of those spent half lime shells; you know, the ones you have because you ALWAYS use fresh squeezed lime juice; and hollow it out. Stick two toothpicks into the rind in opposite directions so it will sit atop your glass. Fill that lime rind up with the 151 Demerara Rum and set that motha aflame! For added effect shave fresh nutmeg over top and watch it fizzle. The nutmeg also adds some additional baking spice to both scent and flavor.
There you have it, the classic 1934 Don the Beachcomber Zombie.
If you’re thinking that sounds a bit strong you are dead on. (Zombie pun.) That’s what this cocktail is, in your face. Yet the flavors meld intriguingly well, herbaceous, floral, and spicy rich. Believe me I’ve attempted messing with the recipe to make it a bit more palatable; adding passion fruit or rock candy simple, all of which leave the drink syrupy or bland or out of balance. Don Beach perfected this drink and it knows very well what it is and what it’s meant to be. There is a reason why Don himself would serve no more than two of these licentious libations per victi- I mean, customer. Oh Mr. Beach, that voodoo that you do.
Look, notwithstanding all the reverence it deserves the Zombie is not my favorite Tiki drink. Usually when I plan on having a drink I plan on having two. I prefer to not be hammered after one drink (seriously, it’s like not even fun). As far as flavor profile goes it’s unusual at best, but when made properly this boozy, spicy, tart full bodied beverage suits Tikidom to a tee. No one can dilute the prowess and dedication it took to create such a complex and delicately balanced bit of cocktailia. The Zombie was the quintessential Tiki drink before Vic ever traded a damn thing. This was the drink that set the standard for not only Tiki cocktails, but the essence of what Tiki culture was and would become. Beginning with name and following through all the way to the fractured conscience and morning apologies this drink makes a promise and does not renege. The temptation, the desire, the anguish, the torment, the pleasure of the pain… the Zombie.