Post #561187 by Sabu The Coconut Boy on Sat, Oct 23, 2010 12:00 AM

From the November 1959 issue of Esquire magazine. A one page of text and one full-page photo of a bartender pouring one of the flaming drinks at the Mai Kai. Also, the full, detailed recipe for the Moonkist Coconut:

"Although U.S. Route 1 is reputedly an artery hardened by mustard-smeared comestibles, two gentlemen arrived in Fort Lauderdale three years ago with a satchel full of money, and created a dining emporium in the near geographical center of Florida's Gold Coast. Les freres Jack and Robert Thornton, not yet aged thirty, indulged themselves in a million-dollar project which would have made Henry Flagler take pause. Equally removed from Worth Avenue and Key Biscayne, the Mai-Kai may well have been built in Polynesia—a sensation which the owners cherish. However, no small part of the current Fleetwood migration is triggered by atmospheric conditions as subtle as a tightly wrapped sarong.

To a region that is flagrantly chrome-cum-hibiscus, the Thorntons have imported koa, milo and monkey-pod wood for the elaborate interior structure, and counterpointed these textures with the art of Fujimoto and Askew. In deference to sun-drenched Florida, the island pulse is quickened by machine-driven rain sloshing against the windows of the Molokai Bar, while vagrant flames dance impo-tently from the midst of a giant coral-rock waterfall. But the muffled passion mood is not created solely by a decorator's taste for allegory, as edibles and potables must nourish that hedonic state.

For a restaurant which serves a thousand or more customers each evening, the Mai-Kai kitchen is remarkably uncluttered. Each meal is cooked to order, a feat possible not because of the simplicity of the fare, but because fourteen chefs work their cauldron magic simultaneously. Thirty-six standard dishes, such as Hong Shue Chicken, Water Chestnut Pork, Lotus Beef, and Mandarin Duck, come directly from the fire to the table in a two-minute lap. For those perverse observers who feel that Polynesian restaurants are nothing more than Cantonese cuisine minus neon lighting, Chef Kenny Lee stands ready to prepare a luau for guests who telephone their orders at least one week in advance. This ceremonial feast includes the traditional imu pig and wild orchid leis and costs just $150 without the extras—in all, an eminently fair price for ten diners.

Patrons are not permitted to mix their own drinks by chewing kava roots, but the spiritual concept of a luau is maintained with forty-eight rum concoctions, collected and in many instances originated by Mariano Licudine, the master mixologist. A dozen unseen bartenders juggling fifty-two kinds of rum and fruit extracts famed from Samoa to Singapore take his cabalistic direction with the precision of a Cape Canaveral fueling team. Consistent with Anglo-Polynesian patois, the drinks bear such names as Impatient Virgin and Shrunken Skull, which sheds no light on their ingredients but presumably is intended to disperse some social disorder.

Classic among Mai-Kai originals is the Mystery Bowl. At the ringing of a gong, this flaming concoction comes to the table in the hands of a hula-skirted maiden, and in a manner which would win applause from the Tahitians, among whom such inflammatory rhythms were born. The Mystery Bowl is a six-dollar drink, but it may adequately quench four to six straw-sipping customers. To those gentlemen who have sampled all the world's cane squeezings —from frosty elegance to fiery turbulence—Dr. Licudine prescribes his original Moonkist Coconut, now revealed for the first time:

Moonkist Coconut
Half ounce lime juice
Quarter ounce simple syrup
Quarter ounce honey
Quarter ounce Falernum
Half ounce coconut milk(fresh or powdered)
Three-quarter ounce West Indies rum
One and a half ounces Puerto Rican light rum
Three-quarter ounce Barbados rum
Two dashes Angostura Bitters
Put all the ingredients in a mixer with crushed ice; strain and serve cold in a topped coconut, or suitably attractive glass.