Well, nothing can be done about it now at all. Sometimes we just say things. Wretched things that are sometimes true. They may only be true in some back crevice of our thoughts, hidden away out of shame, fear, and or compassion, but they are sometimes true, indeed. Still, they mustn't be spoken. They are only true sometimes. The times when she is berating him, relentless in her dissatisfaction. The hamster wheel of a lover’s quarrel wherein every attempt at pacifying her springboards another argument. Why can’t she just understand that he’s not being mean, that he’s a good man? He walks now, shoulders pointed up keeping the chill off his neck. Along the boulevard, past the shops and display windows, almost passing the gallery. The piece in the window was the scene inside a jazz club. Thick paint accentuating heavy brushstrokes. Long black figures painted such to give the illusion of movement. He could hear the upturned trumpet screaming. Smell cigar smoke swirling. He could feel vibrations from the floor, bouncing and breathing. This painting was alive. It reminded him of the night he met her. She was bartending the underground jazz joint on that otherwise sleepy side street. The band played torpid standards. He drank a dark rum while they talked, joking about how they wished the boys would pick it up a bit. It reminded him of the taste of coffee the morning after the first time she stayed the night, the beautiful thing that happened that night. On the boulevard he hated her. By the time he rounded the corner on the avenue he missed her. Missed her warm hand holding his in Sunday mass. Her legs stretched over his on the sofa in their tiny flat. On the avenue he stopped in front of a large window musing on bottles sparkling behind the bar in a pink and blue glow.
She couldn’t believe he could say such horrible things. Such ugly insensitive things. The feeling wouldn't subside. Every time her thoughts found their way back to him an angry disgust overtook her. And that insufferable narcissist had the nerve to wonder why she was upset? It was obvious that she was waiting for him to make it better. To say a sweet thing that would make her believe he understood. She couldn’t say what that thing was, but she knew it could be said. If he could pry his stubborn head all the way out of his ass. The Woodford Reserve bourbon in her Old Fashioned was familiar. She hated that it reminded her of him. Reminded her of that one winter he made them drinks and they sat in the kitchen watching snow fall through the sliding glass door. How multicolored Christmas lights made an ethereal glow under the white crystal snow. They sat close as the whiskey offered warmth. Later they laughed as she taught him how to build a proper snowman. Of course he put an Hawaiian shirt and panama hat on it. He was silly. She liked how he made her smile when she got anxious. Yes, she was emotional, because people are supposed to have emotions. Now, bathed in a pink and blue neon glow, the preponderance of emotion dims the flame of love like a small lambent light in heavy fog. She felt the man standing behind her before she turned around.
“You feel othered. Like you’re going through it alone. It’s not the pain of the thing, it’s that you don’t feel like someone is going through it with you. In my selfishness I left you bereft of that connection. For that I am truly sorry.”
“And you’ll never do it again?”
“Never.”
“I wish you would’ve said that an hour ago.”
Together they walked towards home. Her hand in his. Under his other arm a wrapped up painting. He asked, “how do you feel?”
“Lovely.” … “Lovely.”
Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Tony, and this is Pod Tiki. Today we celebrate Valentine’s Day with a cocktail called the Lovely, Lovely.
Upon opening its doors in 1956 the Waikikian Hotel was the epitome of faux-Polynesian pop culture. The center of attention being the hyperbolic paraboloid shape of the lobby. It was built to approximate an exaggerated version of a spirit house. Imagine a square sheet of paper. Now bend the two opposite corners down and the two other opposite corners up, Now stretch the upwards facing points apart to accentuate the shape. That was the roof. An engineering marvel for the time.
The hotel featured a Tahitian Lanai, and the Papeete Bar. From my research it appears the two were separate entities within the hotel. The Tahitian Lanai was a vision of tropical paradise. Palm trees surrounded the pool and guests could lounge in private huts named for Tahitian Royalty. The Papeete bar took you to another kind of Tahiti dream. South seas music softly emanated from ornate woodwork, island life ephemera clung to the walls, and the stools were custom made to resemble Tahitian gods.
By this time Donn the Beachcomber and Trader Vic had solidified Tiki as a genre and Donn’s move to Oahu legitimized it in the place it was purported to come from. Fred and Elizebeth Dailey opened the Waikian in an attempt to further that notion. Bring the popularity of Polynesian inspired restaurants that dominated the mainland back to the islands. One of the ways they accomplished this was by not overthinking it. They used Hawaii’s natural beauty as part of the design, utilizing the flora of the island as natural decor. Even the guest rooms were constructed in a fashion to be looking out towards the nature of the tropics.
To manage the Papeete Bar the Dailey’s brought on Bob Bryant. Bryant had worked at Trader Vic’s before opening his own successful Tiki bar in San Francisco. The famous Tiki Bob’s. Behind the bar was one of the most elusive characters in all of Tikidom. The man known only as “Danny”, fed into the mysteries of Tiki. Hardly anything is known about Danny save that he was a master at figuring out Donn the Beachcomber’s recipes. The attribute that earns him a place among Tiki royalty is that he was the first we know of to substitute local natural ingredients. Native brown sugar took the place of flavored syrups and fresh pureed fruit covered for canned juices. Primitive looking ceramic mugs completed the experience. It was almost as if Danny took offense to the popularity of Polynesian inspired pretense that pervaded the contiguous U.S.
It wasn’t long before the trend took hold and the Hawaiian Village Hotel, later purchased by our old friend Conrad Hilton, opened next door. The bar at the Hawaiian Village would give us another infamous Tiki alum by the name of Harry Yee. The man who created the Blue Hawaii because guests were perpetually asking for a local Hawaiian drink. There really wasn’t any that fit their expectations. So, he made one up. Another funny anecdote about Harry Yee? He claims he began using paper umbrellas as garnish because the sugar cane stalk they used to use made a mess on the bar that was hard to clean.
The Waikikian officially closed its doors in 1996. The artwork, 40 handmade Tikis, and 200 year old carved Marquesian were sold at auction. The auction took place on the Tahitian Lanai. And just like that gone was another icon of a multicultural institute spanning centuries. From the first settlers who stepped out of their outrigger canoes onto the soft Polynesian sand to the outpouring of visitors whose eyes glowed with the first sight of swaying palm trees on a zephyr of vanilla scented air. But, thanks to Danny, one thing remains of the Papeete Bar. His original cocktail, the Lovely, Lovely.
The Lovely, Lovely is a simple drink but one that perfectly personifies the idea of a Valentine’s cocktail. It’s like candy. Please don’t send the woke police after me when I say this, but it really does fit what we stereotypically assume girls would like to drink. However, with the nuance and elegant mixology we’ve come to expect from a well concocted Tiki drink.
First we’ll need some rum. Danny’s recipe calls for 151 proof Puerto Rican rum. I’m assuming he used the now defunct Bacardi 151. I have a bottle of Carabaya 151 Caribbean rum I used for this. I also made a version with Bacardi 8, which I find to be a delightful rum that is good for sipping but adds an aged flavor to cocktails as well. I did this to tone down the ABV a bit. I don’t generally like overproof cocktails but I see how, as a drink with a more evocative nature, it has a purpose here. So, ultimately, I stuck with the 151.
Next we have orange curacao. I went out searching for Marie Brizard because it is a very well made brandy based curacao for about $10 less than Pierre Ferrand, which I know is the industry standard. I couldn’t find the Marie Brizzard so I ended up with Ferrand, which is a perfectly splendid curacao, just kinda pricey.
Then we’ll need lime juice, lemon juice, brown sugar and crushed ice. Easy peasy.
The original recipe is:
1 ½ oz 151 Puerto Rican Rum
½ oz Orange Curacao
1 oz Lime Juice
1oz Lemon Juice (½ revised)
2 level tablespoons Brown Sugar
10 oz Crushed Ice
Dissolve the sugar in the juices then add the other ingredients and flash blend for about 5 seconds. If using a standard blender simply pulse four or five times. Open pour into a large snifter and garnish with flowers.
On the first sip this drink is quite sour barely matched only by a cloying sweetness. Together they create a sort of spicy tingling on the tongue. The next flavor to emerge for me was the rum. As much as I deride overproof spirits one must admit they are able to push through the other flavors of Tiki drinks. Rums made in the traditional Caribbean style, like the Carabaya I used here, have a nice butterscotch creaminess mixed with vanilla and mild baking spice. The extreme sweet tart of the Lovely, Lovely do well to mask some of the less refined qualities of Carabaya allowing more palatable classic rum notes to cut through the thick underbrush of brown sugar and citrus.
I just couldn’t see how a drink this sour would be described as lovely. It was a bit in your face. So, in my effort to bring forth the best versions of the drinks we cover while maintaining as purist as possible I made only a slight modification. It’s amazing how one small tweak can change a recipe so drastically. By lowering the lemon juice from 1 oz to ½ oz the drink glides into balance like a feather falling to the ground. This also allows for the curacoa to bring a delectable fruitiness.
It tastes like Jolly Rancher hard candy. There’s a decadence there like liquid confection. All that needed to happen was turn the sour down and this drink becomes a sanguine-rosy-pedals of affection. I can only assume from pictures and the name that this drink was meant to be decadent. Hovering on the event horizon of too sweet, too sour, too boozy, but with the self-aware discipline not to cross the line. The Lovely, Lovely has the potential to get a bit naughty naughty. Like the nice quiet girl at the party who ends up discreetly pulling you into a dark room.
Sweet, sour, fruity, and strong. If your partner serves you one of these on Valentine’s Day they’re making a statement. And, that statement is … “we ‘bout to do some bad bad things, baby.”
Ladies and gentlemen, this has been Pod Tiki. Thank you so much for listening.
Sources: Sippin’ Safari by Jeff Beachbum Berry, watg.com article The Waikikian, mytiki.life article Tahitian Lanai and Papeete Bar
