Post #321168 by GatorRob on Wed, Jul 25, 2007 3:54 PM

Well, I got the chance to visit the new Trader Vic's in the Destin corner of the Redneck Riviera (it's okay, I can say that, I grew up there). I had high hopes that even though the place didn't look like the Atlanta or Dallas Vic's, it would be able to match them in quality of drinks, food and service. Boy were my hopes dashed in a hurry.

First off though, the place looks nice for a slick, contemporary take on a Polynesian restaurant. The indoor bar is attractive, with monkey pod tables scattered around. The dining room is cozy, featuring half circle booths, tables, tapa-ish wall hangings and a brick oven. The outdoor bar is servicable, if rather bland. And scattered around the inside and out are a host of Balinese pseudo-tikis.

Then I met the manager, who is full of enthusiasm about his new place. He talked about how he's met Sven Kirsten, how he was at the Dallas Vic's when it was being renovated, etc. I thought "Hey, this guy knows his stuff. Maybe there's hope."

We ordered a round: Tiki Puka Puka, Mai-Tai, Zombie, Vic's Grog. The Puka Puka was just okay, but a pale imitation of what I've tasted in Atlanta. The Mai-Tai was servicable. The Zombie and Vic's Grog were putrid. Someone forgot to tell them that the Zombie is supposed to be a strong drink. It had the color and taste of Kool Aid.

Next came the appetizers, 5 or 6 of them. Several were ice cold. The little butanes under the serving plates weren't lit. We told the waitress, who said "Oh, okay. I guess I'll go get a lighter." Uh, yeah. Duh.

The manager came over to me and wanted an "honest opinion" from me. I reluctantly gave it to him. He said liability in Florida keeps him from putting too much alcohol in the drinks (Huh?). Then he mentioned the Doctor Funk's Son and that it's too strong to be on the menu, but they will make them on request. So I requested it. I think he was trying to impress me because he went behind the bar and made it himself. I was all ready for something special. I take a few sips and my companions ask me how it is. "Terrible."

To top it all off, every time the door to the patio opened, we were bombarded with the sounds of a live band playing Southern Rock. And this band was playing LOUD. How many people would pay $40 for a steak in an upscale-looking restaurant while having their ears assaulted with Sweet Home Alabama at 90 decibels?! From the sparse number of diners we saw on that Saturday night, not many. I jokingly said the band sounds like it would be more at home down the street at the Hog's Breath bar. Later on, our waitress commented to us on how she liked the band and that they hired them away from the Hog's Breath bar. I'm not joking.

We all agreed we'd never go back unless they miraculously fix all the problems. I'm not holding my breath.