Horseradish is a pretty violent substance. Ingesting it the morning after the biggest collective hooch binge of the year is like making your insides act out Apocalypse Now in its entirety. Yet somehow when mixed into a bloody Mary—especially one from such a legendary purveyor—it makes perfect sense. The Marys served at Cafe Moana feature a subtle horseradish flavor, but they’re strong in other ways; as few as two could have you slurring your words like Brando, or rambling like Conrad.
South Shore Tiki Lounge
This is a choice spot for those desiring a little sunshine while reversing the symptoms of zombieism. The bloody Mary here is certainly incongruous with this place’s retro-tropical motif, especially since it’s served in the same tiki fishbowl glass as the rum and pineapple concoctions for which the Tiki Lounge is known. It’s kind of like reading Heart of Darkness in a blizzard, in a good way.
The Dog & Duck
This place draws a different crowd than the aforementioned locales, one that’s more in line with the typical bloody Mary drinker. It’s a prime spot for people watching; the place is frequented by leatherclad bikers and collar-popped Chazzes alike. You can also bring your beverage outside and take advantage of the outdoor seating, but this is an Irish pub, after all, and being close enough to the dartboard to risk a dart tip in the skull is part of the appeal.
The Lahaina edition of this joint has a pretty killer view of Front Street, and they offer an awesome, almost heartfelt, bloody Mary. The size of this drink is downright diabolical, and they let you substitute Absolut Peppar for plain old vodka, or at least they did last time I did my penitence there. Absolut Peppar, which was the first flavored vodka the brand offered, has tinges of jalapeno, herbs and green tomato. Sounds healthy. Still poison, of course, but it’s got quite a kick.
It’s counterintuitive that the bloody Mary, at least among my circle of associates, is regarded as the beverage to consume before and/or during air travel. After all, we’re trying to avoid swollen fingers and dry mouths while in flight. Yet we eject the bloody Mary, salted rim and all, from this equation entirely, though our logic for doing so is undeniably flimsy. So, why the bloody Mary? Why does this beverage seem to quench like no other while one awaits arrival at his or her destination? It’s a question for the ages, though I fear the answer may be wrapped up, at least partially, in marketing. MTW