I attend Tiki conventions like The Hukilau and Tiki Oasis. Yes, you read that right. There are conventions dedicated to vintage Aloha shirts, lounge music, rum drinks and mid century-style debauchery. Everybody gets dressed up in their vintage best, yours truly included, and grooves to the dulcet tones of such greats as Arthur Lyman, Augie Colon, Don Tiki, Martin Denny and Les Baxter. DJs spin vintage vinyl and room parties go all night long.
I love Tiki so much that I built a bar in my basement that harkens back to the golden days of Tiki. Trader Scott's Tiki Bar & Lounge is 600 square feet of retro Tiki goodness, mixed in with my own personal style of escape. I spend a good deal of my time within its confines, blackout curtains pulled and classic lounge and jazz on the iPod. It only seems right that, when I'm in the mood for something other than a Mai Tai or Zombie, I should reach for something like Maui Brewing/Dogfish Head's Liquid Breadfruit collaboration.
Here's what the brewers have to say about it.
It's a cool name. Beer has been called liquid bread for centuries. Monks used to make it and people used to subsist on it before we figured out that bugs in the water did nasty things to our guts.
I picked this can up in Seattle (Tukwila, actually, but who's looking at a map?) and transported it all the way home. Thankfully it got here safely, because I was about to crack this baby open. I'm a fan of cans because they're easy to transport, easy to stack in my cooler and easy to collapse so that they don't take up as much room in the recycle bin.
Pouring this beer into my much-loved Trio Wine, Beer and Cheese tulip I was struck by the apparent turbid nature of the beer. It had a bit of a wheat beer cloudiness to it. The head was nice, even though I had to force it a bit by pouring down the middle, but it built up nicely then settled out within about five minutes. Bubbles were extremely fine and not all that prolific. No lacing whatsoever on the glass after it was finished, which kind of surprised me.
Grabbing a big ol' whiff of the stuff, I noticed a yeasty note first. Kind of like bread baking in your mom's house. A bit leathery, with an underlying sweetness and toasted nut aroma.
As I poured the beautiful elixir across my tongue, I was a bit shocked to get a mild tartness/sourness that I wasn't expecting given the nose. There was a smidge of maltiness, but not enough to really blow out the tartness. The carbonation was soft on the tongue, and my mouth was in tropical heaven. The body is much heavier than I would have expected from this beer. So much that I felt almost like I had a skim coat of oil on my tongue.
The Calypso hops they used linger at the end. You really don't get hit by them until after most of the rest of the flavors have gone away. I did detect a sweetness on the sides of my tongue that was doing battle with the bitterness of the hops, and it was a pretty nice little war.
As the beer warmed up the higher gravity became a bit more apparent, but not as much as some other 8% beers I've had. That hop bitterness I just mentioned also toned down some, allowing more of the sweetness to hang out in my mouth.
If I could describe a Tiki beer, this might very well be it. It's tropical without being too sweet. True Tiki drinks are never crazy sweet. (Hint: If your Mai Tai is pink, it's garbage. Send it back.) They evoke images of a Plastic Paradise that many in the '40s, '50s and '60s only dreamed of. This beer makes me want to visit Maui, and I guess that's what it's all about.
Here's a great recipe for a Mai Tai, as noted by Jeff "Beachbum" Berry, the premier cocktail archaeologist. I've made this recipe countless times and it never fails to make me happy. The mint is important. It adds another level to the drink.
In your shaker pour 1 ounce each fresh lime juice, Rhum Clément VSOP Martinique rum, and Appleton Estate Extra dark Jamaican rum; 1/2 ounce orange Curacao; and 1/4 ounce each orgeat syrup and sugar syrup. Add at least 2 cups of crushed ice, then shake well for around 10 seconds. Pour unstrained into a double old-fashioned glass. Sink your spent lime shell in the drink, and garnish with a mint sprig.
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