Hulabilly Lemonade: The Fireflies Won't Be the Only Ones Getting Pleasantly Lit

Tiki Oasis is in full swing again. Regular readers know that for several years now, I've made a point of attending the four-day extravaganza of rum, beehive hairdos, Bettie Page lookalikes, surf tones, and tiki madness in San Diego. This year the theme is Hulabilly. Otto von Stroheim, the founder of TikiO, invited me to give a talk. So yesterday afternoon, we filled a ballroom, threw up some slides, hit the sauce, and delved into my field: illicit liquor. 

Over the next few weeks, I'll add some more stories from that talk, but I had so many requests for my boozy lemonade recipe yesterday that I realized I should put it up while the hulabilly hodown was in full swing.

Johnny Jeffery flew in from Wisconsin to join me for the talk since he was the distiller for one of the whiskeys we were tasting: Death's Door white whiskey. Jeffery is in the privileged position of sampling his white white right off the still. His recommendation for the rest of us who can't get it at quite such high proof? Try it in a margarita.

The Hulabilly Lemonade I made as a welcome drink for the crowd is a twist on an old-fashioned front porch lemonade…with two differences. The first is that I used two sugar syrups — one demerara and the other caramelized, which isn’t as sweet, but gives the drink a soft, almost praline note that complements the fresh lemon juice. The second is that I asked the volunteers helping out with the talk to pour in a whole bunch of whiskey.

Without the whiskey, the lemonade makes a good Arnold Palmer when mixed 1:1 with black iced tea. With whiskey, though, and cooling off on the porch some hot evening with a pitcher of this Hulabilly Lemonade and a few glasses…well, let’s just say that the fireflies won’t be the only one getting pleasantly lit.

Hulabilly Lemonade 

1.5 oz Death's Door White Whiskey
4 oz front porch lemonade (see below)
2 teaspoons caramel syrup (optional, see below) 

Mix whiskey, lemonade, and caramel syrup over ice. Garnish with mint if you're feeling extra fancy.

Front Porch Lemonade 5 parts lemon juice
5 parts water
3 parts Demerara simple syrup 

Stir until blended in a jar, pitcher, or gallon jug. 

A note on the caramel syrup: In my opinion, the caramel syrup really makes this shine, but it's not strictly necessary — you could leave it out entirely. It not just tastes good, though; it's a nod to old-school bootleggers who sometimes faked age in illicit spirits with caramel (a practice that hasn't died out). Author David Lebovitz has good notes on making caramel; if you've never made it, check them out before you begin. The way I make this cocktail syrup, it's a simple ratio: two parts sugar to one part water so that the final version — by volume — is 25% more than the original sugar volume. First, measure whatever quantity of plain white table sugar (12 ounces by volume is a handy amount for home use). Then measure half that of water (6 ounces in this example). Have it at the ready.

Slowly caramelize the dry sugar in a deep, heavy-bottomed pan (I use an unlined copper pot, but use what you've got). When it reaches a rich amber color, immediately (and carefully) pour in all the water. Be careful: it will spatter and steam. The whole mass will seize up in a hard candied blob. No worries. Turn the heat to low, stirring now and then, until the sugar dissolves. Some water will have evaporated as steam, so when the whole thing is liquid and cool, put it in a measuring cup and add just enough water to make the total volume 25% more than the original volume of sugar. In this example, 12 ounces (100%) plus 3 ounces (25%) = 15 ounces. Just top off with cool water until the total volume is 15 ounces. Easy peasy.

Goes well with:

• The Tiki Oasis site.
• Death's Door spirits are distributed in 40 US states, including California. Check out their website.
• Martin Cate (almost) Blows the Lid off Tiki Oasis, a piece about San Francisco barman Martin Cate, his talk on the history of punch, and a recipe for his Tiki Oasis 10th Anniversary Punch.
• The Hyperreality of King Kukulele, an affectionate look at the slippery notion of authenticity when talking about tiki.

Sweet Spirit of Cats a'Fighting! It's Moonshine at Tiki Oasis

It's Tiki Oasis time — or, rather, it will be soon enough. Next month is the 13th annual celebration of all things tiki here in San Diego as hordes of revelers take over the Crowne Plaza Hotel for a weekend blowout of rum-drinking, hula-dancing, surf music-playing, aloha shirt-wearing, beehive-sporting fun. It is, as I've mentioned, a blast. The theme this year? Hulabilly. What else will there be? White whiskey, maybe a little ti root. You'll just have to drop by to find out.

Who's going to be there talking about moonshine? Yours truly.

I'm expecting something like this.

The name of the talk is Squirrel Whiskey, Monkey Rum, and Sweet Spirit of Cats a'Fighting: The Taming of American Moonshine. Here's the skinny from the TikiO site:

Despite the hype, most moonshine isn't corn whiskey and hasn't been since Donn Beach was knee-high to a moai. For almost 400 years, Americans have distilled untaxed liquor in cabins, sheds, warehouses, hollers, and now garages and basements. Author Matthew Rowley examines the history of moonshine, America's primal spirit. From the colonial era though Prohibition to its recent incarnations, moonshine has changed with the times. Through guided tastings from some of today's (legal) craft distilleries and Q&A, participants will learn to distinguish so-called "legal moonshine" and white whiskeys from their illegal forerunners and modern cousins.

See you there!

Goes well with:

• Find Tiki Oasis on Twitter here.
• Information on my talk and speakers at this year's Tiki Oasis (including San Francisco barman Martin Cate, radio host Charles Phoenix, and Lady Borgia with "The Higher the Hair, the Closer to the Tiki Gods") is here. 
• Lack tiki mugs in which to serve up your summertime moonshine drinks. Check out some of our favorite tiki mug vendors, including Tiki Farm, Munktiki, and Tiki Kaimuki.

Hellz Yeah: It's Tiki Oasis Time

When I was a kid, one of the best things about having been born in August was that I never had to go to school on my birthday. These days, I have something else entirely that captures my attention at the tail end of the summer: Tiki Oasis.

Every August, as they have since 2006, tikiphiles gather in San Diego for a four-day extravaganza of Polynesian Pop madness. Rum, obviously, plays into the long weekend, but I will say this about a tiki crowd: no other group of drinkers is as open, friendly, and welcoming.

According to the official history,

Originally conceived as a fundraiser to support the rehabilitation of the Palm Springs Caliente tropics Motel, Tiki Oasis outgrew its original 88 room location and Southern California-centric following and in 2006 moved to its current location in San Diego where the event sells out a 400 room hotel and draws over 2500 attendees from all over the world.

The theme this year is South of the Border. From 18-21 August, revelers will lounge around the pool, attend educational sessions, buy and sell tropical-themed merchandise, and enjoy a musical lineup that explores the Latin roots of exotica music, a cornerstone of tiki culture. I'll be busy with birthday shenanigans during Tiki Oasis, but some of them may just have to shift over to the hotel. After all, it's about three miles from my house — how could I pass up the chance to spend time with such a fun crowd?

 Goes well with:

• The Tiki Oasis website has all the official details, schedules, musical lineups, and more. Check it out here.
• Find Tiki Oasis on Twitter here.
• Finally, be sure to check out my piece on Salon.com about last year's anniversary punch made by San Francisco barman Martin Cate. Recipe — and enormous fireball — included.

Martin Cate Blows the Lid (Almost) off Tiki Oasis

Whatever you do, do it with all your might.

~ PT Barnum (1880)

The Art of Money Getting

PT Barnum, Robert Tilton, Huey Long — showmen all, masters of swaying their audiences. To their ranks, consider adding San Francisco bar man Martin Cate.

At the recent Tiki Oasis in San Diego, Cate presented The Persuasive Power of Punch, a thumbnail history of the origins of alcoholic punch. What’s he know about punch? Plenty. As owner of the San Francisco rum bar Smuggler’s Cove, Cate presides over a drinks menu that spans centuries, going back far earlier than the mid-century tiki drinks for which he is widely known. But from Planters’ Punch to the Zombie, tiki has its share of potent multi-ingredient drinks that fall squarely in the punch tradition.

The room itself in the Crowne Plaza Hotel was divided into five main sections, all arranged in a rough circle around a tarp-covered central table. Now, tiki crowds skew slightly older, whiter, straighter, and more coupled than I’m used to in drinkin’ buddies, but a more friendly crowd you couldn’t ask for. The room quickly filled with Hawaiian shirts, tropical dresses, and a handful of fezzes. There were vintage cat’s eye glasses, beehive hair, coconut purses, and pineapple bracelets. And the attendees were positively gleeful.

The crowd filed in, grabbed cups of welcoming punch, and started heading for spots at the surrounding tables, each of which was outfitted with a small cup covered in plastic wrap. Each section’s cups contained different liquids. As I tried to make out what they were, a volunteer pointed me to a seat. “If you sit where I tell you,” she sighed, “this would all go a lot faster.”

So I did. And Martin launched into his history of punch — its origins in India and introduction to Europe through the British East India Company. He discussed how the very name punch is said to derive from the Hindustani word panch, meaning “five” (for the five ingredients common in 17th century punches), its place in pre-industrial England and America, and how its popularity declined over the years.

But those cat’s eye glasses, those fezzes, and those clusters of beehives kept turning back to the tarp in the center of the room. Fingers stealthily moved toward the cups, worrying loose edges of plastic wrap. Noses went into the cups as the audience tried to suss out their contents. Mine was clearly strong black tea. Cate, seemingly oblivious, began using a punch ladle as a pointer for his slides. It only made the audience more antsy.

He shared some tips for finding recipes and serving punches out of various vessels from bowls to coolers. “So…anyway,” he wrapped up, “that’s it. Thanks for coming. I hope you guys had a good time.” Scattered light applause began to ripple through the audience while shouts of “No, no!” arose in other parts. “What?” he asked. “Did I forget something?” After more teasing, he acknowledged there might be one more thing to do.

“I am here” Hands begin drumming the tables.
“To present to you” The drumming gets faster, harder, while yelps and cheers leap forth.
“The single most powerful weapon ever crafted.” The cheers get even louder.
“Behold!” The tarp is drawn back in one dramatic reveal.
“The world’s. Most. Powerful. Volcano bowl!” The crowd goes absolutely apeshit.

There, on the table, is an enormous volcano bowl fashioned from a Home Depot koi pond. Men and women — with, one presumes, respectable day jobs — are on their feet, snapping pictures, recording video, looks of delirious joy on their faces. Is this a talk about punches or a dustbowl tent revival? The glory and the power of rum has struck these poor souls and I’ll be damned if some of them aren’t speaking in tongues. Hawaiian, if I’m not mistaken.

Cate asks each section to come forth and contribute its ingredient from the plastic cups. In goes cup after cup of fresh lime juice. “Come up here and feed it. Feeeeed it.” The bowl’s capacity is said to be 40 gallons. The sweetness of a rich Demerara sugar goes in. “Yes, yes, give it more … Excellent.” Vanilla and cinnamon Trader Tiki syrups. After that, tea, tea, and more tea. The crowd chants “Rum! Rum! Rum! Rum!” They get their wish: in goes a healthy dose of two rums. Our MC uses first a giant whisk, then an electric immersion blender to mix the ingredients. Red lights come on at the bottom of the bowl and the bubbler kicks in.

“This needs something,” Cate notes. “Maybe it’s fire.” 

And with that, this modern-day Barnum blew the roof off Tiki Oasis. Well, not literally. But the fire marshal might’ve gotten a little freaked as the audience screamed its approval. A large crouton, soaked in 160-proof lemon extract is set in place above the bubbling liquid, lit, and then blown into a huge fireball.

Audience pandemonium.

Almost in a frenzy, Cate passes around long straws, tells the crowd to put two together to make even longer straws. Some clatter to the floor in a maelstrom of tiki madness. From each section, a contingent springs forth to sample with double-long long straws. My photographer — it’s his first Tiki Oasis — looks at me in amazement. “These are grown-ass adults,” he marvels “acting like they’re 21 years old.”

And that’s maybe part of the magic of Tiki Oasis and tiki crowds in general. Grown-ass adults sometimes need to act like kids. If that entails drinking and setting things on fire, then so be it. I had a blast (a contained one) and will be back next year.

Tiki Oasis 10th Anniversary Punch

1 oz Rhum JM VSOP
1 oz Zaya rum
1 oz strong Darjeeling tea
1 oz fresh lime juice
.25 oz Demerara simple syrup (optional/to taste)
.5 oz Trader Tiki Cinnamon Syrup (see below)
.5 oz Trader Tiki Vanilla Syrup (see below)

For a single serving, mix together with ice. For a crowd, just multiply each ingredient, ice it, and serve it forth.

Goes well with:

• A big block of ice. Note that punch gets less watered down if all the mixed ingredients are chilled and served on a single block of ice.
• Trader Tiki syrups are fantastic vehicles for adding exotic spices and flavorings to tropical cocktails. Check them out here.
• Smuggler's Cove, Martin Cate's bar in San Francisco.
• Tiki Oasis, the annual San Diego tiki gathering. I'm already planning to hit up Tiki Oasis next year. If you go, get tickets early: they sell out fast. 

Photos © 2010 by Douglas Dalay.