After R.B. McCarthy adopted the initials of his title “Rum Brother” as his nom de guerre his buddies started to follow suit. To differintiate themselves from the original they simply added the initial of their regular, boringly normal first name. Thus John became R.B.J. (Rum Brother John in the formal fashion).
RBJ went on to become legendary in his own rite by saving a group of young women in a HUGE cyclone. In fact…it’s getting close to the time of year for the festival honoring the event. Since I knew you’d want to be prepared I’ve included the story and a recipe for the traditional Stash Day Psyche-Lono cocktail. It’s all you need to feel like you’re there on the island. Well, that plus sand, sun, drums, and dancers but I can only do so much for you from here. As always, “okole ma luna” ( Bottoms up ).
As the story goes, Lono, bringer of storms, that season had somewhat spared the islands . He made up for it by creating a total monster cyclone. A seemingly living, rampaging beast as fast as it was ferocious. A cyclone that made you beleive it carried the ability (and worse yet the will) to end your world. John had recently scored some cases of his cherished favorite rum and stored it in a small raised hut in the open area between his home and the bay. What turned out to be merely the build-up to the insanity of the storm took that hut and it’s contents early the first day. John regarded this as a theft and a matter of personal affrontage. Rage drove him as he cast off from his dock and pointed the bow in the direction of where the sky was darker than any night…where he knew the monster lived. The small sailboat felt so tiny racing down the back side of the giant waves like an out of control tobaggen. When it reached the trough John fought the urge to keep his focus locked on the bow and not look up. He slowly lifted his eyes and then his his head titled all the way back trying to take in and process what he was seeing. A black mountain of angry water so huge it seemed like half the ocean had stacked up over him and was getting ready to bury him in the bottomless depths below. Remembering why he was there, he regained control and brought the boat’s nose back over and began to scale the unimaginable, unescapable wall of death. The relief of cresting over the nearly vertical face was short lived as he spotted something riding the foam atop the next huge wave. It was his stash !
Intenions and instincts flowed together and soon, laughing and yelling at the beast, he had hauled in the last of the crates. Again he fought the urge to not look up. To focus only on his boat and what he could control. Something made him look to where teh horizon should have been. That’s when he saw it. What looked like part of a wall-turned-life raft was airborne coming over a wave and about to disappear again. It was as if it fell from the sky. Clinging desperately to this tiny bit of hope were a number of terrified women. Setting aside the complete “WTF” shock and all the questions RBJ cranked the wheel hard over and locked on the place he last saw them. He caught up to the raft in a dark valley-like trough and quickly helped the women aboard before resetting course for where he hoped home would be. They were all from a nearby island and were sheltering in the Halau ( Hula school ) when the storm took them and part of the school far out to sea.
In the true spirit of Polynesian women, and without so much as a word, they simply and bravely took their places to help the boat fight the storm that still threatened. They fought uncomplaining all that day. Just when everyone thought fighting on was useless, the beast started to die. The hole in the clouds at the horizon grew until they could see the women’s island home off the bow getting bigger with each swell they rode.
Finally sailing his battered boat into the harbor, the recued women’s freinds and family showered John with gratitude. Realizing the importance of the day, the islanders began what still remains the region’s biggest festival. It’s unofficial title is Stash Day because it’s easier to say than “The day we remember RBJ saving the women from Lono’s really bad terrible storm”. Right? Every year at this time islanders and visitors alike remember Lono’s storm and celebrate John’s courage in the rescue with this drink. Lono had psyched John into finding the courage to face the monster cyclone and anything else that came along. It was a gift for which RBJ was eternally grateful. It is in Lono’s honor as well as John’s passion that islanders drink what they call Psyche-Lono. So here’s to the rich dark rum, and tropical tastes of ginger (Awapuhi) and passionfruit (Lilikoi ) in this cocktail. Here’s to passion, and courage! Here’s to R.B.J.!
Start with a tall glass half filled with ice. Then add:
- 1.5 oz dark rum
- .5 oz Giffard’s passion fruit liqueur. Our Mixological Expert Jessica tells me that this brand is a bartender’s perineal favorite particularly because of it’s pure Passion Fruit flavor and the fact that it lacks the artificial syrupy tastes of some others.
- .25 oz fresh lime
- Fill the remainder of the glass with ginger beer
- Garnish with lime wedge
Repeat as needed.
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