Tall skinny palm trees stretching up into a violet sky, their arching plumage listlessly swaying in the trade winds. My wife and I resting on a piece of sun-bleached driftwood under a canopy of large umbriferous palm fronds. Behind us a lush verdant blanket of tropical flora covers the lazy dragon, his mountainous body curving to form what stretched out beyond us, Hanalei Bay.
In my early endeavorings to trod the tropical footsteps of my literary forebears I would hear about a random place in a song or book and decide, “Well, that’s where I wanna go.” Hanalei was one of those very first places. It seemed like a far off dream then. Jamaica, Mexico, and the circumference of Florida were easier to accomplish. Then I met a crazy lady who taught me dreams are simply goals we haven’t reached yet. I married that lady and when we chose Hawaii for our honeymoon she immediately insisted on the island of Kauai so we could visit Hanalei Bay.
Let me tell you, it was better than a dream. As a writer I would love to spend the following page elucidating in masterbatory language regarding the level of emotion I felt on the beach that day, of which the stop at Tiki Iniki surely aided, but I won’t do that to you folks. I’ll just say after a hike through the jungle, kayaking through lush tropical valleys, much shore gazing, and ending the nights staring up at the most colorful starriest night sky I’ve ever experienced, I understand why Hawaii remains a place of exotica and magic.
Oh, and we drank tropical drinks. Now, we chose The Garden Isle, Kauai, not for the bars and restaurants as we so often tend to do, but for the beauty of the island. Of course the tiki-head in me would love to sip around Waikiki and dine in Honolulu, but I’ve come to realize in my scant time in this realm that chasing the past oft leaves us stuck in the present. Drinking a daiquiri beside the Hemingway statue at La Floridita, and a Mai Tai at Trader Vic’s, those are memories I will forever cherish, but in order to move forward and create anew we sometimes have to nudge ourselves out of our comfort zones. Kauai was that trip for us, and it was amazing.
That’s not to say we didn’t luck into some incredible food and drink. Don’t even get me started on the sushi in Hawaii, and, of course, I’ve raved before about how wonderful a bar Tiki Iniki is. Pretty high on my top 3 list. But, as uniquely Hawaiian as Tiki Iniki is, the drink menu still borrows heavily from Beachcomber and Trader Vic classics. What I was surprisingly impressed with was the quality of other drinks around the island. I was kind of expecting tourist trap sugary mixes like you might find on a cruise ship or all-inclusive resort, but the fresh juices, good local rums, and pride and proficiency of the bartenders really impressed me.
It makes sense, Hawaii’s price tag is a bit bigger than the Caribbean and elite guests expect elite quality. But also, when you have access to some of the best fruit in the world, we literally had to dodge falling mangos, and people are coming for fruity drinks… let them eat cake. Or, in this case, pineapple. You see, Hawaii has its own style of Tiki that began as a sort of imitation of … itself? Hopefully this will make sense later.
Today we’re making one of my favorite Tiki cocktails that really doesn’t have much of an origin. So, instead let us take a brief journey through how Tiki found its way home, culminating in one of Hawaii’s most opulent hotels and its namesake cocktail - The Royal Hawaiian.
Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Tony, and this is Pod Tiki.
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Spanish colonial architecture, European high fashion, and a whole lotta Jesus. Ahhh, true Hawaii. Wait, what?! Let’s just say early 20th century Christian Missionaries were very good at their job. In fact, the swivel hipped lei laden ladies lounging lasciviously on lanais, and titillating tropical tipples had been all but eradicated from pre-statehood Hawaii. All pau were late nights dancing around the Kava bowl, traded instead for bible study and lessons in civilized culture. Look, I’m a card carrying cradle Catholic, but I’ve always had a gripe with aggressive evangelizing.
At any rate, with native culture diluted and teetotaling on the rise, Hawaii as a tropical tourist destination never stood a chance against the legacy of the Caribbean. Furthermore, travelers that did make it to the perceived exotic paradise were greeted by faux-opulent European style hotels and the same cocktails available in mainland bars; themselves in a post-prohibition convalescence in which a crippled industry was struggling to rediscover itself.
Before we go further I want to point out that Hawaiians did have native alcoholic beverages before the “civilized” world came to town. The most popular of which, and one that has found new life in tiki culture, is Awa. Awa is a kind of tea made from Kava root said to have medicinal qualities. Thought to have originally come to Hawaii from Tahiti, Kava was initially used as fishing bait, as it has a stunning effect. Rendering the fish imobile. Of course, as we humans are wont to do, someone decided to see if you can catch a buzz from it, leading to Kava becoming a tool for religious ceremony. Think, ayahuasca. Truth be told, passing around the Kava bowl doesn’t seem too far from me lining up to drink from a chalice of wine every Sunday. What’s made Awa famous in pop-culture, though, is its traditional method of preparation. In early days Kava root was chewed up, mixed with saliva, and spit into a bowl sometimes to be heated over a flame, other times to be passed around and simply enjoyed neat. Today Kava Awa is still available, though the masticating is done by muddling the root into a powder and making it into a tea. Although, I’m sure if you ask a native Hawaiian they’d be glad to spit in a haole’s drink. You know, for authenticity.
Another native exotica intoxica is Okolehao, a kind of moonshine made by distilling the Hawaiian Ti plant. That’s that purple leaf plant popular in a lot of tropical themed gardens. In fact, I have one on my tiki patio now. Okolehao has seen a bit of a resurgence among Polynesiacs as an ingredient in modern cocktails seeking that native Hawaiian edge.
Unfortunately, by the early 1940’s both of those native spirits were long gone the way of the Dodo. But tourists who heard stories of Erol Flynn and Ernest Hemingway cavorting about the Caribbean, and were eager to spend those post-prohibition pre-WWII dollars, expected Hawaii to be the new frontier of tropical playground. In the Caribbean the ambiance matched the lure. Hotels catered to their tropical expectations, beaches were strewn with tan bodies, and the neon nightlife glowed under the Pleiades. Hawaii on the other hand was mostly colonized by euro-fashion. Polynesia, it seemed, needed some PR. So, what brought exotic back to exotica?
In short, Don the Beachcomber. Donn and Trader Vic’s nascent genre of Tiki Exotica, practically predicated on perceived paradise, was all the rage across mainland USA. Looking back now we lionize those men for creating something new out of all their mishmosh travels and experiences, but when tiki was young the average person had no reference for faux-exotic hyperbole. They thought the inside of a Trader Vic’s was really how Polynesia looked.
Donn made his way to Waikiki in 1948. The straw covered A-frame huts he designed were unheard of even by native standards. His return to tribal seemingly reversed decades of missionary work striving to “civilize” the natives. Don the Beachcomber’s was a pagan bar offering pagan drinks. In this, Hawaii finally had the cocktails to match expectations.
Though Donn and Vic did manage to bring their unique styles to Hawaii it was the Halehulani hotel that was the first local spot to utilize Hawaiian themes. Tapa cloth, lava rock, native art, and Polynesian style bungalows. They even boasted their own Halehulani Cocktail, a mix of Okolehao, lemon, orange, pineapple, grenadine, and bitters. Halehulani essentially took Polynesian-Pop back from the mainland.
Not long after Lyle Guslander opened the Coco Palms along the Wailua River in Kauai. Known as the playground of Kings, the Wailua River was an apropo location for a resort as it was once the ancient vacation spot for Hawaiian royalty. My wife and I actually kayaked the Wailua and hiked through a tropical jungle to a waterfall fed lagoon where we spent the day swimming with the ghosts of royalty. All jokes aside, it is a truly magical place. One could understand the allure.
Gus, as he was affectionately known, used the lush foliage of Kauai along with thatch cottages and a number of native inspired bars to induce a sense of exotica that actually was, well … exotic. A cool side note about Coco Palms, due to the high number of native descendants working at the hotel, there were no tiki faces or totems on the grounds, as it was offensive to their lost customs. But to placate the mainland visitors, bigger & wider chairs were installed in all the bars and restaurants to be more comfortable for the bigger, wider tourists to not make them feel self-conscious. Is it any wonder they found us offensive.
In a sad turn of events the hotel was decimated in 1992 by Hurricane Iniki. We drove by the dilapidated skeletons of buildings on our visit to Kauai. Picking our guide’s brain for an explanation we were told anyone who tries to purchase the property ends up in land disputes with local tribal government who will only allow the historic grounds to be renovated under their strict guidelines.
Meanwhile, over in Waikiki, establishments used the natural landscape of Oahu as backdrop for the frenzied influx of tourism, for all those people who think tiki bars can’t have an outdoor area. Yet, it still fell on Don the Beachcomber and Trader Vic to inspire any kind of exotic drink.
That is, until a mixologist known only as “Danny” at the Waikikian’s Papeete Bar began substituting local ingredients into Donn and Vic’s classic recipes. Fresh native juices took the place of pre-made mixes and brown sugar, a stand-in for simple syrup. For more on this check out Kevin Crossman’s article, The De-Evolution of the Hawaiian Mai Tai, in issue 15 of Exotica Moderne.
With the help of Elvis, who was a mainstay at Coco Palms, and whose movies fed the polynesian pang for tropical, Hawaii was experiencing a boom in popularity that swept the entire nation on a road paved by Tiki. For a time.
Donn and Vic eventually left Hawaii or went full tourist, leaving the drinks diluted into parodies of their former cocktail antecedents. Despite the efforts of locals, like Danny, their absence left a tiki shaped hole in Hawaiian drinking.
Then came Harry Yee. When our old friend Conrad Hilton grew weary of the fading Caribbean vibes he went in search of something new to shake his cockles. He found it in 1961 when he opened the Hilton Hawaiian Village. An existing hotel dating back to the 1920’s, the Hawaiian Village in Waikiki was renovated with all the creature comforts indicative of a then modern Hilton hotel.
Harry Yee was the head bartender at Hawaiian Village circa 1956. There he is credited as being the first bartender to use orchids and umbrellas as cocktail garnish. He claims this was out of necessity. You see, they used to place sticks of sugarcane in the drinks, but patrons would chew them up and leave them in the ashtrays, a sticky gross mess. Eliminating the sugarcane in place of orchids meant easier clean up at the end of the day. For the full story on Harry Yee check out our Blue Hawaii episode.
Harry Yee was indeed inventor of the Blue Hawaii cocktail along with a plethora of others, like the Tropical Itch. He remarked how people would come in asking for Hawaiian drinks, and there weren’t any true Hawaiian drinks at the time. So, he created cocktails to suit the idea of what tourists coming to Waikiki imagined what Hawaiian drinks would be. As far as I’ve come across in my reading it appears Harry Yee was Hawaii’s first celebrity bartender. His style of blending, no pun intended, the native Hawaiian feel that tourists thought they wanted with the still tropical but often commercialized version of Hawaii that tourists actually wanted granted him favor with patrons and management alike. Hey, if you can get away with using Blue Curacao and Sweet & Sour mix in your most famous cocktail and still be on the Mt Lushmore of Tiki, who am I to argue.
A quick tangent regarding my thoughts on that last paragraph. I fall right in the middle of the tourist trap vs “where locals go” argument. Preferably, I like to stay in a tourist area and venture to local spots at my leisure knowing there’s a safe homebase to return to. I am not adverse to adventure at all. I’ve gone ziplining over a Cuban jungle with my passport and all my money strapped around my waist. But, I’ve also been to tropical islands where believe me, you don’t wanna go to the local spots. They’re either unsafe, unwelcoming, or truthfully just a shithole. It’s actually quite disheartening to realize that the beautiful landscapes of your mind’s eye are, outside of manufactured perception, impoverished third world communities. Jamaica, Bahamas, even in parts of Hawaii. As a result of my travels I must conclude that, in most places, the version they show tourists is more akin to the heyday of culture that place is known for than the reality beyond the veil.
There are certain locales that are exempt from this. Cuba, for instance, is a place where visitors still stay among the people; eating, drinking, and sharing in the day to day lifestyles of locals. Albeit, on a tourist budget. Certain U.S. cities, like my beloved Orlando, suffer from the perception that there is no local scene at all, when in fact the town is replete with native flair. Then there’s places like Nashville where we hang out at the same places the tourists do, because every cool establishment in town has cashed in on that sweet sweet bachelorette party fat cash.
I guess what I’m saying is there’s nothing wrong with doing the touristy stuff or embellishing in a bit of tropical opulence, as long as you admit what it is and try to round it out with some local excursions. Sometimes the mainstream attractions are mainstream for a reason. Trust that the locals have curated the experience you want so you’re not let down by the reality. Lyle Guslander, Danny, and Harry Yee? They knew what people wanted while endeavoring to give it to them in a way that maintained the high integrity of authentic Hawaii.
Yet, amid this history one hotel is prominently germane to today’s story. The Royal Hawaiian.
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Boasting ornate Spanish themed architecture, and top of the line luxury for Waikiki in 1927, the Royal Hawaiian was and still is thought of as one of the most lavish deluxe hotels in Hawaii. But, it’s not just another pretty hula face. During WWII the property played host to U.S. troops as a military R&R retreat. It’s easy to understand post-war expat culture when you go from fighting Nazis to wahinis in bikinis. Even the languages are diametrically opposed. Imagine getting yelled at in German one minute to being serenaded by an Hawaiian love song the next.
The “Pink Palace of the Pacific”, as the Royal Hawaiian was nicknamed, also found its way into pop-culture via appearances in movies and TV shows like, Hawaii 5-0, Charlie's Angels, and more recently Mad Men. Today the Royal Hawaiian has earned its place among the Historic Hotels of America.
Okay. That’s all quite academic. Blah, blah, and history is great, but ya’ll know my speciality lies in crackin’ wise when I get to editorialize. So let’s get to what we all came for - The Royal Hawaiian’s eponymous cocktail!
As mentioned waaaaay back at the beginning of this long-ass episode the Royal Hawaiian drink doesn’t have much of an origin. It’s known to have been served simultaneously at both the Royal Hawaiian and Moana hotels in 1948.
Dating back to 1901, the Moana was the first hotel in Waikiki and another whose palatial decadence would make it look more at home to a Euro-trash aristocracy than the beachside barons of Oahu. Even Beachbum Berry won’t say for sure which hotel the drink originated in, but it seems obvious to me. It remains commonplace for establishments to offer a namesake signature cocktail. A titular tipple, if you’re nasty. Thus, it stands to reason the drink was named after the Royal Hawaiian.
But, to do my due diligence, it is rumored that the Royal Hawaiian drink was created in 1920 and began its life as the Princes Kaiulani cocktail. I have not been able to corroborate this, but there was a property adjacent to the Moana named The Princess Kaiulani Hotel which was later absorbed by the Moana. This would lead me to believe the drink may have begun as the signature drink of one hotel and later renamed to fit the sensibilities of an ever-changing tourist archetype.
And why would a signature drink so blatantly jump hotels? Well, my swingin’ hula pals, guess what? None of that matters because in 1948, when the drink appeared on both menus, The Royal Hawaiian and Moana hotels were owned by the same people. The Matson Line, a prominent shipping company based in Honolulu owned a bunch of hotels in Hawaii in the early 20th century. Both properties sold to the Sheraton Hotel group in the 1950’s, and both hotels are still available for booking as part of Hawaii’s Luxury Collection Resorts. Ooh-la-la.
But alas, as far as who created it and what they were thinking and why they used the ingredients they did, I fear that may be lost to time … leaving us only to speculate. As it turns out, I love speculating! Let’s make a drink!!
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We know that Hawaiian drinking was born of Don the Beachcomber’s Tiki and Donn, having traversed the Caribbean learning all about different styles of rum, relied heavily on the spirit to create his Rhum Rapsodies. Today, Hawaii has begun to make a name for itself in the rum world. My favorite being KoHana Hawaiian Agricole, made from native pressed cane juice. Over the course of a week in Kauai I made friends with the hotel bartender while drinking them out of a bottle of Kohana. A vintage Hawaiian style upscale hotel bar with fine marble and linen, easy music carried on a fragrant breeze out of the large open bay doors, over the lanai and out to the garden. White light glinting off the bottles behind the polished wooden bar while a barkeep in a white shirt wipes wine glasses. I would sit there sipping and taking it all in while my wife dressed for dinner. She’d walk up in a beautiful form fitting floral dress and we’d make our way to a table. Sometimes inside the dining area. Other times outside amid tall violet Ti plants and broad leaf fan palms. The leaf pattern on some of the plants gave the flowing fishbowl impression that we were sitting on the bottom of the ocean. Okay, snap out of it, Tony.
All that to say, despite Tropikis penchant for rum, the Royal Hawaiian is one of those rare cases in which gin takes center stage. But don’t get it twisted, there’s plenty of Hawaiian influence in there too. It’s also one of those drinks that’s utterly simplistic for how freakin’ good it is. It’s kind of a daiquiri riff with gin and juice. One might say it’s laid back…
We start with gin. I know, I know. Two gin episodes in a row? I thought this was a tiki podcast? I promise we’ll get back to rum next time, but I couldn’t resist the perfect segway from spring into summer drinking that is going from the Negroni to the Royal Hawaiian. The perfect example of how a spirit can taste totally different when used alongside different ingredients. Call me a 90’s kid, but I usually reach for Bombay Sapphire for my gin. Beefeater works as well, seeing as how I generally prefer London Dry style gins. I think it’s a good balance of botanical and body. I want the juniper to be prevalent but without tasting like potpourri.
It’s no wonder this was served at some of the most luxurious bars on the island. Let’s not forget how far gin has to travel to get to Hawaii, and we're talking 1950’s travel. That stuff had to follow the silk road then cross the Pacific.
Therefore, why not pair it with only the finest native Hawaiian pineapple? Notwithstanding the giant conglomerate that Dole has become, and the fact that they pretty much did a corporate takeover of the islands to make Hawaii a state, they do grow some of the best pineapples in the world. Look, I love me some Caribbean pineapple. It was hailed as a sign of fertility from the Yucatan, through Cuba, and out to the wayward isles. High society would rent pineapples to use as centerpieces at dinner parties. Fresh Pina Coladas in the Caribbean are like ambrosia from gods. But, let me tell you, never have I seen such a perfect golden pineapple as when shopping in Kauai. Unfortunately, it’s all but impossible to find Hawaiian pineapples in most of the contiguous U.S. Those little cans of Dole, though they are 100% unsweetened juice, are actually from the Phillipians and the lion’s share of whole pineapples in the supermarket are from Central America. The one I used for this episode was produced in Costa Rica and distributed by an Irish company.
What gets me is that even though Hawaii is a state, and way closer, it’s cheaper to get fruit from Asia and Central America. Let me just say, corporations and Banana Republics are gross and evil, but I am fine with having to travel to exotic locations to sample local fare as long as everyone is afforded the same opportunities to do so. It’s proven that travel broadens the mind and breeds cultural education, yet that powers that be make it so cost exclusive. It’s almost like they don’t want the masses educated?
Anyway, Dole cans are fine, but what’s even better are the fresh-pressed 100% only juices that a lot of markets are carrying now. They’re a tad more expensive but taste the most like fresh pineapple. Of course, you can squeeze your own pineapple juice. As I’ve stated in previous episodes, without the aid of expensive kitchen equipment, this is a long arduous process yielding little results for the effort. I tried a version of this drink with fresh pressed pineapple juice and honestly, it didn’t really make it better. Obviously, the pineapple flavor was fresher and more organic and still commingled nicely with the gin. It just doesn't seem that the risk is worth the reward? I’d go with the fresh-pressed store bought stuff, usually in the juice aisle. Just watch the expiration once you open it, as since it’s made with less preservatives it will spoil quicker.
As far as orgeat? I stand firm that I have not yet tasted one better than Latitude 29 Formula Orgeat. I feel like it’s got the best almond flavor without being too sweet. The orange water and other ingredients balance perfectly. I’m not saying I’ve had them all, there’s a few on my list to try, but I tend to prefer a more traditional orgeat. It should be almond based and should not have alcohol in it. I’m talking to you Chopper! Guys, there’s already 2 ½ oz of booze in a Mai Tai. Do we really need alcohol in the orgeat too? I’m not trynna get blotto, that’s what Zombies are for. Anyway, I’m teasing. Chopper does make a hell of a Mai Tai.
I have not attempted to make my own orgeat yet, either. It just seems like a lot of work to make a product that is available for purchase at a pretty high level already. Sometimes the risk vs reward on homemade is not worth it if it’s not that much better. For example, I make my own syrups because I don’t want high fructose corn syrup in my drinks. That’s worth the effort. Also, I have a very fickle palate. I don’t drink the same things all the time. So, I’m afraid if I put the time in to make a batch of homemade orgeat it may go bad before I use it. If I buy some for $20 and I have to throw the last quarter bottle away, that still seems more worth it than all the effort that goes into slicing and roasting almonds, finding all the ingredients, and preparing it just right. Have you ever tried to slice an almond?
Moving on. Our sour in this drink comes not from lime, but lemon. It adds a brighter note and compliments the pineapple nicely. Very summery. Always use fresh squeezed lemon juice. The cost benefit analysis is well worth it in this case. You might say, the juice is worth the squeeze.
And the recipe for the Royal Hawaiian is as follows:
½ oz Fresh Lemon Juice
¼ oz Orgeat
1 ½ oz Pineapple Juice
1 ½ oz Gin
Add all ingredients to a cocktail shaker, add ice, shake and double strain into a coup. Garnish with a pineapple frond. We should end up with a bright yellow/golden liquid wearing a sheer layer of foam across the top.
Wow! Of course this drink would have been served to high flyin’ Hawaiian clientele, it even tastes regal. We know pineapple activates more flavor receptors on the tongue than other fruits, and research shows that due to the way pineapple affects the proteins in your mouth it’s one of those foods that can change the way other things taste, making it perfect for mixology.
The sweet spice of pineapple compliments the botanical gin so well they almost cancel each other out creating a new tertiary flavor. Lemon adds a brightness while orgeat fills the profile out. It’s almost unnoticed, save a light almond sweetness. A full bodied depth, but light and bright. It’s just so well balanced it’s hard to pick out any flavor standing out beyond the rest. Fruity-floral-nutty-sweet, the Royal Hawaiian lives up to its name. Truly a decadent drink for decorous people.
Now before we move on, as if this episode isn’t long enough, I would be remiss not to touch on a noteworthy Royal riff. Perusing Smuggler’s Cove by Martin Cate I noticed a drink called Humuhumunukunukuapua’a. The name is actually a type of fish native around the islands. I wonder if they ever fell for the ol’ Kava bait? This drink uses all the same exact ingredients as the Royal Hawaiian with the addition of Peychaud’s bitters, but the book claims it was created by Smuggler's Cove bartender Marcovaldo Dionysos.
Here’s the recipe:
¾ oz Lemon Juice
¾ oz Pineapple Juice
½ oz Orgeat
2 oz Gin
2 dashes Peychaud’s Bitters
1 cup Crushed Ice
Shake all ingredients in a shaker and open pour into a double rocks glass. Garnish with orchid and cherries.
Here’s my review. …….. Oh, I’m sorry. I slipped into a diabetic coma for a minute. Whoa, this is sweet! But then again, all the Smuggler’s Cove recipes are usually super saccharinated. It’s a pallid, sickly looking yellow color, but tastes way brighter than it looks. Beyond that I will say the bitters make it taste more like a true cocktail, but less tropical. Almost like it would be more at home in a speakeasy than a Tiki bar. The pineapple is subdued as is the gin by the higher sweet and bitter notes. It’s not a bad drink, but very different considering the ingredients are the same. This is a perfect example of how messing with measurements can drastically alter the profile and texture.
It’s a fun drink, but not balanced at all. I wouldn’t be disappointed if someone made it for me, but I would be if I paid for it at a Tiki bar. I actually reached out to Martin Cate for any insight on the creation of this cocktail to no avail. I went into this prepared to bust balls for ripping off an old recipe, but I can see how this drink deserves its own name. Despite similar ingredients it tastes totally different and is served differently. But there’s obviously some influence here, right? I’ll let you guys be the judge.
The book also says we could sub aged rum for the gin to make a different version, but looking at the recipe it seems subbing rum pretty much makes an Hawaiian Mai Tai.
Anyway… For a drink with no origin this sure became a long ass episode. So, I’ll wrap it up. You know, pineapple gets a bad wrap in cocktails because it’s so easy. It’s tropical, it tastes good with almost anything, and it’s cheap and easy to get. But rather than venerate it for being the ultimate tropiki fruit, we denigrate it as being cliche. When used correctly pineapple is truly an essential ingredient and the Royal Hawaiian, a truly luxurious cocktail, is proof of that.
It’s funny how Hawaiian Tiki began as an imitation of itself but now I feel like new Tiki is beginning to imitate Hawaii once again. So, next time you’re feeling a bit fancy throw on that floral resort shirt and some linen shorts, a panama hat, put on some ukulele music, and find a lanai under the palms to sit and enjoy life like a Royal Hawaiian.
Credits: Sippin’ Safari by Jeff Berry, Smuggler’s Cove by Martin Cate, stevethebartender.com, rootofhappinesskava.com, Beachbum Berry Remixed by Jeff Berry.
Find us at podtiki.com for all past episodes and recipes as well as Spotify, iHeart radio, Apple and Google podcasts and stitcher. @pod_tiki and @rum_poet on instagram and follow Pod Tiki on YouTube for episodes of Inside the Mug.
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My name is Tony, this has been Pod Tiki, and that’s all for this episode, folks. Until next time … aloha and Keepi Tiki!
