I’ve always loved flying. Being suspended in the air. The plane roaring down the runway building to a crescendo that culminates with the weightless peace of breaking from the planet’s surface. Some people, like my wife, can’t stand that feeling. To me it feels freeing. Like God is allowing us to taste a diluted sip of heaven the way some parents may water down wine for a child on holidays. For, if ever primitive man made it above the clouds no doubt this is where our notions of Heaven began.
With altitude those gravitationally tethered to the world below become but a living topography. Before you know it there you are hanging in pale gray-blues. Wisps of clouds floating below like cotton on the surface of water. Like foam on a thin reaching tide.
At times I have found myself over water. Watching an emerald turquoise coast fade to deep azure abyss.
My favorite, though, is when clouds blanket the sky below the plane in a thick pillowy sheet of celestial white. It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so brilliantly pure. Cut off from the world below by this magnificent snow-flower veil not even the toddler treating the back of my seat like it owes him money can disturb my enraptured reverie.
One awe inspiring morning, above one such duvet cover of clouds, the sunset formed a border of yellow-gold cutting across the horizon and sandwiched by an even thinner line of pastel red below and layers of blue above. The sharp distinction of colors reminded me of neapolitan ice cream. Hitherto or since I have never seen anything like it and even now I’m saddened a bit because the memory grows dull with age.
The act of flying is not the only thing I love about air travel. I’m one of those weirdos who loves airports. As big as Chicago or Denver where we made a mad dash with bags in tow making our connection just in time. Or, as small as José Martí in Havana when climbing the tarmac stairs to board the plane made it feel like a Bogart movie.
There are abstract ideas surrounding air travel. The oddity of liminal space. A transitory crossroads. I enjoy sitting at an airport bar, and not just because it’s ok to start drinking at 6am, but because I get to meet and speak to fellow travelers. Discover their comings and goings. Learn about the otherwise dross of life that I find so fascinating. And, there’s an element of escapism that we can appreciate. Not only does do the planes take us to exotic places, but even the anticipation being at the airport brings is exhilarating. I always feel like vacation starts as soon I we clear security.
I don’t even need to be going somewhere tropical or exotic. Any new place on any occasion could be an adventure. In the words of the late Jimmy Buffett, “The importance of elsewhere is still so important to me.”
You won’t find me in sweatpants and slippers at the airport, either. First of all, I have self-respect. Second, I am still in awe of air travel much the way one may’ve been in 1934 when Don the Beachcomber’s first opened their doors amid a boom of commercial air travel that changed the world.
Aviation technology advanced greatly during World War I, most notably the switch from wooden to metal aircraft. After the war the Allied countries found themselves with an excess of transport planes which converted nicely to accommodate passengers. A metal fuselage was an important innovation because it allowed for higher and faster flights due to its ability to handle extreme temperature fluctuations. For civilian travel it meant flights through different climates were now possible. Say, perhaps from the midwest to the Caribbean. While Donn Beach was capitalizing on his version of exotica, astonishing people who previously could only read about it, access to those places was availing itself. One might be inclined to think this would hurt his business, but on the contrary, the faux exotic craze exploded gangbusters. For those who could travel thery came home wanting to relive their tropical experiences and those who couldn’t travel now had more first hand accounts of those exotic places.
However, if you’re picturing a Southwest flight to Jamaica you’d still be a few decades off. Early air travel meant bumpy flights in unpressurized cabins. Another critical invention was the barfbag. Kinda makes Spirit Airlines seem not so bad. By the time Pan Am and the post-modern travel posters of the 1950’s and 60’s made international travel ubiquitous, a new age of exploration was upon us.
Of course, early air travel was cost prohibitive, but by the late 20th century into the 2000’s it was actually affordable enough for all people to be able to experience the mind broadening cultural education of other places. Until recently. I remember just a few years ago when I could fly from Nashville to Orlando for a hundred bucks. The most expensive part of travel was the hotel, now for my wife and I to fly it costs more than the hotel stay! I can’t say enough about how I believe everyone should travel. Even if it’s not somewhere exotic. We live in a relatively giant country that has every kind of climate and terrain. If you live in a city, go spend some time in middle America. If you stay in the mountains, go see the coast. Go skiing, surfing, hiking. Eat at an Italian restaurant in Manhattan and a gumbo shop in New Orleans. And, get out of the cruise port. Go see the city. The town. The people. Be safe, but get uncomfortable. Uncomfortability is the first chapter in the book of progress.
Something else unexpected happened with the travel boom. While social media and television have advertised the luxurious parts of traveling to new and exciting places we’ve also seen the rise of destination tourism, traveling to a locale to see a specific thing. Tiki is no exception. Of course you expect to see tropical bars in the tropics, but Chicago, Georgia, New York, London? When my wife and I travel we always try to find experiences unique to the location, but I also look for the closest Tiki bar and cigar shop. Not every place has a Tiki bar but tropical tonks have been on the rise with the popularity of “summer culture”, and usually there’s a Tiki or Tiki adjacent bar. Even in Gilbert, Minnesota. Shout out to the Whistling Bird where my wife, my mother-in-law, and I had dinner and drinks in a tropical enclave amid the sharp blistering winds and fluffy coniferous trees of Minnesota. Hell, there’s even a Margaritaville in the Mall of America!
We owe a lot to the pervasiveness of air travel. From the Wright brothers to Beryl Markham. From cross-continental air buses to the sea planes that inevitably streak the sky of the Caribbean. My own grandpa, to whom I owe my adventurous spirit, piloted his own small plane. My mom tells stories of being a child in New York, coming home from school, and my grandpa saying, “We’re flying to Maine for dinner.” Innovation in aircraft technology changed how we see the world and innovation in Tiki changed how we escape. Some of that innovation came from Stephen Crane when he opened the Luau and used one of Don the Beachcomber’s signature cocktails to stake his claim on the genre. Today we explore the Test Pilot and Jet Pilot.
Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Tony and this is Pod Tiki.
Much in the same way that air travel progressed from bi-planes to luxury private jets Tiki drinks also evolve over time. As the race to take to the skies became the race for better fighter planes became the space race, Tiki drinks went from the Test Pilot to the Jet Pilot to the Space Pilot.
Donn Beach was definitely influenced by the flight craze as evidenced in one of his earliest creations, the Test Pilot. A marriage of Caribbean crispness with a dash of Pernod to give it that Tiki twist, the earliest documented Test Pilot recipe comes from 1941, but it’s regarded to have been mixed up and served in the 1930’s making it one of the first Tiki drinks alongside its brethren the Zombie. As the Tiki diaspora spread across the U.S. and the popularity seeded imitators and innovators looking to profit and proliferate the genre Donn had to hide his recipes using code. The names however could be adjusted to capitalize on the craze. Like when Stephen Crane opened the Luau and turned the Test Pilot into the Jet Pilot.
Crane didn’t just change the name, but the whole recipe while still managing to steal from Donn. He actually made the Jet Pilot a rip off of Donn’s Zombie. I actually have to give props to those who so expertly reverse engineered the drinks to discover the recipe. It’s how Jeff Berry first began deciphering original recipes. But, Stephen is special to Tiki in another way. Don the Beachcomber invented Tiki. Trader Vic brought a culinary approach to perfecting cocktailing and added cuisine. Stephen Crane expounded on the aesthetic we know and love about Tiki bars.
In order to understand Crane’s persona in Tiki we need to understand his persona before Tiki. You see, Stephen Crane was one of those guys who was determined to make it by any means. But, not in the boots on the ground grind it out kind of way. No, Stephen was more akin to a social media influencer of today. No real talent except for the ability to co-mingle with talented people.
He tried his hand as an actor and a boxing promoter before eventually finding his niche as a gambler. And, he was quite good at it. In fact, he had such a knack for bluffing that he actually got starlet Lana Turner to marry him, three weeks after their meeting, under the auspices that he was the heir to a tobacco legacy. Turns out his dad owned a small cigar shop in Indiana.
The pair of divas were married in 1942 and quickly annulled when Lana discovered Stephen wasn’t yet divorced from his previous wife. Oops! Of course, when Lana got pregnant with Steve’s baby they remarried a year later. Ridiculous relationships like this are why I love old Hollywood. Despite all the perceived glamor these stories read like any of the central Florida suburban white trash relationships I grew up in and around. Oh, and Steve and Lana divorced a second time within a year.
Loathe would old Steve be to stop trying there. No, his tumultuous and sordid personal life included very public trists with Rita Hayworth and Ava Gardner alongside many other marriages and divorces with both American and French actresses and models.
Maybe one of the most famous Stephen Crane stories doesn’t involve him at all. Which would really irk his ego. Steve’s daughter, Cheryl, was 14 years old and living with her mom Lana Turner and her mom’s abusive mobbed up boyfriend, Johnny Stompanato. Stompanato was a character in his own right, but since this is a Tiki podcast and not a Mafia show I’ll stick to the highlights. I gotta share this, though.
Stompanato, an enforcer for mob boss Mickey Cohen, had tons of run-ins with celebrities since the Cohen family operated out of Los Angeles. Not the least of which was another purported friend of the family Frank Sinatra. But, my favorite story about Stompanato is that he was so jealous one time that Lana was acting alongside Sean Connery that he flew to London, stormed the set, and pulled a gun on Connery. For those of you who only remember Sean Connery as an older gentleman let me remind you he was a bodybuilder and trained in martial arts before becoming an actor. The 6’ 2” thespian was having none of Stompanato’s shenanigans. Sean grabbed the gangster’s wrist and snapped the gun out if his hand in one motion. Yeah, don’t fuck with James Bond.
The story involving Cheryl Crane has to do with Stompanato’s demise. By 1958 Cherly had enough of her mom getting beat up by some half-wit mobster and during an altercation she fatally stabbed Stompanato effectively stomping out the Stompanato.
All the while Stephen Crane was making a living hustling the Hollywood elites and hobnobbing with socialites around town in such establishments like Don the Beachcomber’s. Teaming up with his literal partner in crime, Al Mathes, Crane was making enough money gambling to start purchasing bars. His first few attempts went south quickly but by the time he opened the Luau, on Rodeo Drive, in 1953, it seems he was taking it seriously. He snagged a few Beachcomber bartenders, who were able to recreate the drinks close enough, but what made the Luau unique was the showmanship. A live Luau, of course, and a decor that exaggerated the Tiki faux-poly-pop design that we associate with Tiki bars now. Adding large totems and fanning foliage, Polynesian dancers, and colorful lighting, Steve Crane took the aesthetic to the next level. If Don and Vic took real tropical exotica and amalgamated it into a dreamlike escape. Crane Disney-fied it into a cartoon. That’s the impression I get from the little information available regarding the original Luau.
What is documented is how Stephen Crane lived up to his predecessors in the showman department. He greeted patrons and presided over the restaurant in white linen suits, silk shirts, ascots and orchid leis. Crane also held his own amid Tiki forbears with clientele. Tiki bars were hotspots to see and be seen throughout the 30’s, 40’s and into the 50’s, and the Luau was no exception. No matter how cool those old staples are everyone always flocks to the new hotness. I see it in bars and restaurants here in Nashville all the time. To the point where it’s now come full circle to I’s rather go to a place I know I like than chase the new paper thing that will be torn and tattered and changed to something different in a few months. It’s all the same despite the shiny exterior. Don’t get me wrong, I love a gimmick. I’m a Tiki fan, after all. But the gimmick has to be good enough to last the test of time. The Luau did that. And, in California. The place where Tiki was invented. The place where Don the Beachcomber’s and Trader Vic’s were still very popular.
In fact, Stephen Crane’s emulation of Vic didn’t stop with the Luau. Much in the way our old buddy Conrad Hilton tapped Vic to open restaurants in his hotels Sheraton propositioned Crane to so the same. Crane created the idea of Kon-Tiki Ports, wherein each restaurant boasted four unique concepts in one. The famous Polynesian Papeete Room. The Singapore, Saigon, or Macao rooms. An entry lounge shaped like a life sized sailing ship. All exotic experiences available in one Kon-Tiki restaurant only at a Sheraton near you! Opening first in Montreal, Kon-Tiki Ports soon dotted North America from coast to drinking coast competing with and holding his own against paragons and profligates alike in the crescendo rise and eventual rolling sizzle-out wave of Tiki. Along the way Steve cultivated such careers the likes of Ray Barrientos and Bob Esmino. But, Kon-Tiki and its denizens are a tale for a different day.
It’s thanks to Bob Esmino, an Don the Beachcomber alum, that we have the recipe for Steve’s Jet Pilot. Even though Bob worked at Kon-Tiki and not the Luau it stands to reason that Steve used the same drinks across his endeavors. Bob being a Beachcomber bartender is kind of funny when you think that he must’ve known the Jet Pilot was simply a Zombie knock-off.
With respect, it was indeed the Luau that made this drink famous, even though in my opinion Donn’s original Test Pilot is a better drink because it’s unlike anything else whereas the Jet Pilot is a fine tipple but, we already have a drink in the lexicon so similar and quite frankly uses the flavors better. Even though these drinks share a storied origin in aerospace they are different drinks and that is why we are covering them both in this episode. Therefore, we’ve reached the part of the show where you’re tired of a history lesson and it’s time to make TWO drinks!
We’ll begin like any experiment should, with the Test.
This early Beachcomber recipe is a testament to Donn’s acumen and awareness to not have his drinks be too similar. Because, let’s face it. As much as we all like to extol the virtues of fresh juices, from scratch syrups, and the nuances of pot vs column still, Tiki has a flavor profile. It’s why Tiki bars can have so many drinks on the menu. Much like a Taco Bell, it’s a lot of the same ingredients in different shapes. Which is why the greats, like Donn, Vic, Yee, and Scialom, took heed using similar ingredients in innovative ways.
Let’s start with ingredients. Donn works his magic here with his signature blending of two rums to create a desired intensity. When I was learning how to DJ my friend and mentor, Teejay, taught me the cheat to mixing is to choose two songs that sound alike. My misconception with bending rums was attempting to use that formula, believing that similar style rums would compliment each other. And sometimes they do, but what Donn was a master of was using quite different styles to achieve a little flavor of each. In this case a dark, malty, molasses heavy blended Jamaican is mellowed and lightened by a light, crisp, Puerto Rican rum. I happen to have had both Myers’s and Coruba in my bar during this tasting and once again I am partial to Myers’s. Its burnt molasses richness doesn’t get lost when softened with the Bacardi Silver I used for my Puerto Rican rum. I played around with using an amber PR rum, the Havana Club, which I enjoy sipping on, but it didn’t add enough to warrant taking away the crisp fruitiness a light PR rum should have.
Next we’ll need Cointreau. Really any nice Triple Sec will do, Cointreau is just a brand name, but the recipe called for it specifically and I will admit in all my frugality that it does offer a refined orange flavor that sliced through the drink without a cheap, syrupy, aftertaste.
After that, Falernum. This is where things take a seemingly exotic turn. Orange liqueur and Falernum compliment each other nicely, but aren’t often found cohabitating the same glass. Furthermore, despite Falernum being used in a lot of Tiki, it is indeed another Caribbean product, beginning in Barbados. In fact, so far this drink is very Caribbean. Jamaica, Puerto Rico, Barbados, and French Liqueur? Not very Polynesian, no? Lime juice and Angostura also keep it in the West Indies.
The final, and only ingredient that reaches into exotica, is Pernod. Even though Absinthe, Pernod, and even Herbsaint, are of French origin and descent, thanks to Don the Beachcomber most drinkers outside of the French Quarter associate it with Tiki. Once again, Donn’s New Orleans roots betray his slouching towards Polynesia. The main reason I love Tiki and Donn’s style so much is that it’s gleaned from so many aspects of experience. As I assume with all of you out there, from my own mishegas and unseen nuance, and many influences, comes the style and perception through which I offer my view of the world to you.
The recipes that makes us who we are may be legion but as for the Test Pilot the it is as follows:
1 ½ oz Dark Jamaican Rum
¾ oz Light Puerto Rican Rum
¾ oz Cointreau
½ oz Falernum
½ oz Lime Juice
6 drops Pernod
2 dashes Angostura Bitters
1 cup Crushed Ice
Blend everything for 5 seconds and open pour into a double rocks glass or small tiki mug. Garnish with a cocktail cherry skewered on an oyster fork.
At first sip the Test Pilot is a light, fun, rum punch. Heavy on orange fruitiness but with the notes of rummy depth. It’s a bright libation. Not robust, actually quite demur, but full of sunny tropical flavor. It's got heavy creamsicle vibes and is redolent of Nui Nui, but in the way that it seems like a Caribbean punch prepared in Tiki fashion. The only thing that screams Tiki is that the Pernod hints at exotic adding notes that are complementary, yet distant from the rest. It’s like the whole drink is a well balanced orchestra while Pernod is playing a second line riff in the corner.
Overall, I love this drink. It’s shallow in the best way. Hovering, flavor-wise, atop the surface hinting at a depth that is there if one chooses to dive, but can also be enjoyed by simply floating along with an ankle over the side pulling a slight wake.
Much like aeronautics in the mid-20th century it’s now time to go from the Test phase to the Jet!
I've made a few illusions to the Jet Pilot’s similarity to the Zombie and I think the ingredient list will make my point. Now, I love jets. My Grandpa, who piloted a bi-plane, would’ve loved jets, because he loved mechanical innovation. If jets took the physics of flight and used human ingenuity to build upon it, i.e., jet propulsion on propeller planes, then the Jet Pilot expounded on the idea of the Test Pilot using higher octane fuel to achieve extreme altitudes. But Stephen Crane didn’t just build upon Donn’s recipe, he totally ripped off a different recipe and called it by the name of yet a whole ‘nother recipe. Check this out:
1 oz Dark Jamaican Rum
¾ oz Gold Puerto Rico Rum
¾ oz Over-Proof Demerara Rum
½ oz Lime Juice
½ oz Grapefruit Juice
½ oz Cinnamon Syrup
½ oz Falernum
6 drops Pernod
2 dashes Angostura Bitters
4 oz Crushed Ice
Blend everything on high for 5 seconds and open pour into a double rocks glass. Top off with crushed ice to fill and garnish with cinnamon stick, swizzle, and choice funky straw.
For the dark Jamaica rum I stuck with Myers’s. The Gold Puerto rican was Bacardi 8. For Overproof Dem I used Plantation OFTD. Falernum, is John T. Taylor, and Pernod is Pernod. My cinnamon syrup I make at home using the recipe from Sippin’ Safari though I add an extra cinnamon stick or two to exaggerate the flavor. Angostura, lime and grapefruit juice should be self-explanatory.
Look, a good drink is a good drink. Is this a Zombie rip-off? Yes. But, I can’t argue that the Zombie is a wonderful drink that stays wonderful even if the ingredient levels are messed with. Therefore, upon first sip, the Jet Pilot is pure Tiki. A brilliant dovetailing of dissonance. Each flavor stands out. It’s an omnipresent experience. The Jet’s not as amalgamated and smoothed over as Donn’s creations. Where the Zombie is a finished wall, the Jet Pilot is all exposed brick and rebar and concrete. I recall that fad a few years back in all the hip bars. It was never for me, as I prefer to relax in spaces that don’t look like the contractor ran out of money halfway through the build.
It definitely does as advertised and jets you into the stratosphere with a generous amount of overproof rum. I warn you, this is not a test.
Okay, one more thing before we get outta here. You guys know I’m a lightweight when it comes to overproof rum. And, it just so happened I copped myself a bottle of Hamilton Jamaican Pot Still Black, which is not usually available here. So, in a stroke of 3rd drink genius I swapped the Overproof Demerara for the Pot Still Black and proceeded to bask in the magic. Holy shit! The drink transformed into a malty, rich-thick, candy like those little boxes of Whoppers at Halloween. Dark molasses and cinnamon make splendid companions. It’s just a wow! combo. Which is why this version is the official Pod Pilot.
One thing’s for sure, whether you’re testing or jetting these drinks are sure to get you to cruising altitude. To paraphrase Dr. Thompson, you bought the ticket. So, sit back and enjoy the flight.
Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Tony and we know you have options when choosing your podcasts so we thank you for flying Pod Tiki Air.
Sources: liquor.com, Remixed and Sippin’ Safari by Jeff “Beachbum” Berry, Wikipedia, mytiki.life, Google AI,