Don't this sound familiar?
I was at the service bar in my Oakland restaurant. I took down a bottle of 17-year-old rum. It was J. Wray Nephew from Jamaica; surprisingly golden in color, medium bodied, but with the rich pungent flavor particular to the Jamaican blends. The flavor of this great rum wasn't meant to be overpowered with heavy additions of fruit juices and flavorings. I took a fresh lime, added some orange curacao from Holland, a dash of Rock Candy Syrup, and a dollop of French Orgeat, for its subtle almond flavor. A generous amount of shaved ice and vigorous shaking by hand produced the marriage I was after. Half the lime shell went in for color ... I stuck in a branch of fresh mint and gave two of them to Ham and Carrie Guild, friends from Tahiti, who were there that night. Carrie took one sip and said, "Mai Tai - Roa Ae". In Tahitian this means "Out of This World - The Best". Well, that was that. I named the drink "Mai Tai".
Before long those silly folks at J. Wray seemed to undergo a bit of quality lack of control, which prompted Jules (as I like to call him) to act in desperation. The Trader's people pick up the tale...
The rum which motivated the creation of the Mai Tai was a fine, golden, medium-bodied Jamaican from Kingston. Trader Vic added fresh lime juice, flavored and sweetened it with Orange Curacao from Holland and French Orgeat with its subtle flavor of almond. The drink chilled nicely with a considerable amount of shaved ice so a large 15-ounce glass was selected to compliment the cooling and generous quality of the Mai Tai.
The success of the Mai Tai and its acceptance soon caused the 17-year-old rum to become unavailable, so it was substituted with the same fine rum with 15 years aging which maintained the outstanding quality.
[...]
During the early 1950's Trader Vic took the Mai Tai to Honolulu while creating drinks for the Matson Line Hotels. He introduced ten exotic drinks in the Royal Hawaiian's bar. The Mai Tai caught on and within 30 days everyone had forgotten the other nine. The supply of 15-year-old rum was becoming less than dependable so several other Caribbean products were tested for the same high qualities of flavor. Red Heart and Coruba were selected to be used in equal quantities along with the original 15-year-old to stretch the supply and maintain the character of the Mai Tai.
A few years earlier the supply of quality French Orgeat had also become uncertain so Henry Smith, who produced vitamins for the Galen Company in Oakland, collaborated with Trader Vic to produce and bottle his own Orgeat.
The mid 1950's signaled the end of a dependable supply of the 15-year-old J. Wray Nephew Rum. This fact as well as problems with consistent quality in the other Jamaican London Dock Rums caused Trader Vic to make private arrangements, in the interest of high quality, to blend and bottle a Jamaican rum under his own label and control. Consistent quality was maintained in both a 15- and 8-year aging. This rum, though excellent, didn't exactly match the end flavor of the original 17-year old product. This desired nutty and snappy flavor was added by the use of a Martinique rum. During this period Trader Vic had also changed the original Orange Curacao to one produced by Bols which was more to his liking. The popularity of the Mai Tai demanded that production on the bars be streamlined. Each individual bar was instructed to pre-mix the Curacao, Orgeat and Rock Candy Syrup in appropriate amounts.
Even the Originator was forced to alter ("adjust") the recipe (in 1951, 1956, and 1964), yet it still remained a Mai Tai. Most of us probably wonder wistfully about the 1944 Mai Tai, but many of us make our own orgeat, we make our own rock candy syrup, we meticulaously hand select our limes and mint sprigs, we tote around our private stock of Appleton Estate and other Carribbean rums, and we forge on trying to replicate the alchemy that is worthy of the expression, "Maita'i roa!"
One might postulate that the 1944 Mai Tai was the only true Mai Tai. If someone else had messed with the recipe, the changes might be more difficult to accept. But considering the fact the the Trader himself had to "adjust" the recipe three times over the course of 20 years, it's clear that the concoction is open to some practical variances, especially, when driven by the availability of ingredients.
I believe in his first adjustment, Jules dropped De Kuyper in favor of Bols Orange Curacao. I don't know about then, but I find that the Bols Curacao of today is much better than today's De Kuyper. That change alone I would consider to be an "improvement" over the 1944.
With so many Mai Tai fanatics, is it possible that some of us might have improved upon it ourselves? If we have, it will likely be in the areas of the choice of rum, the recipe of the orgeat, the recipe of the rock candy syrup, the quantities of each, and perhaps, the ideal number of shakes in the shaved ice.
Does anyone wonder why the formula calls for rock candy syrup rather than simple syrup? They are related and a lot of people treat them as if they were the same, but they're not. Simple syrup is merely a saturated solution, whereas rock candy syrup is supersaturated. The more supersaturated the rock candy syrup is, the more unstable it is. The batches I make are so unstable, you just have to look at them funny and rock candy crystals begin forming. Both the Curacao and the orgeat are largely saturated syrup solutions. If you, say, wanted to supersaturate the Curacao and the orgeat for some magical reason, without ruining either in the process, mixing them with a supersaturated syrup would be the way to go. Enough said.
As for "variations" on the Mai Tai, I don't think they have to be called Mai Tai in any way, nor should they be. I have a handful fo such creations. They're definitely Mai Tai progeny, direct descendants, but they have their own names.
What is NOT a Mai Tai? Just about every "Mai Tai" I order wherever I go. If you want something done right these days...
[ Edited by: The Gnomon 2007-05-14 09:24 ]
