When Mango House was at the 11th hour of launching its bar Kokoye, oranges hadn’t been available in the Seychelles for three months. The base spirits for four of the cocktails on the opening menu were also unexpectedly out of stock. At times, strawberries and blackberries were 86 and at one time, even coconuts were in short supply. The trees may be everywhere, but during the pandemic, people had got out of the habit of picking their bounty. Supply, as bar manager Raven Rudolph found out, is the great challenge of bartending in an archipelago deep in the Indian Ocean, 1,000km from a mainland.
Certainly a change from the supply chain riches of Dubai, Rudolph’s former workplace for nine years. But he’s not alone in making the move from the metropolis to the tropics. United in their isolation and the operational challenges they face, an ever-increasing number of bartenders are spreading craft cocktail culture in faraway places.
It was just a matter of time before moneyed international guests seeking luxury experiences considered craft cocktails to be among them. And thus, in this age of post-fruit bomb holiday cocktails, the bar operation is no longer the afterthought but a critical function of a hotel’s offering. Indeed, in recent years, some hotel groups have even pricked their ears to the sort of international recognition and awards that hotels in Dubai, London, New York and Singapore have attracted. And this kind of ambition all adds up to bartenders – particularly those with a pedigreed CV – being in high demand.
Jim Wrigley, once a leading light of the UK scene, these days calls the Cayman Islands his home – more specifically Kimpton Seafire Resort & Spa. “I’ve worked abroad, relocated and travelled within the hospitality world for years, but always to places with existing cocktail scenes, or with infrastructure and connections to make the transition easier,” he says.
And just as Rudolph had found, supply is the biggest obstacle. “When I arrived, supplier consistency was awful, with several bars needing to band together to try to ensure a supplier would list even the most prosaic of back bar stalwarts, he says. “No chartreuse, maraschino, fino sherry – this list went on. Not to mention the supply chain issues meaning we could be out of Aperol or a pouring rum for weeks if not months across the island.”
Bob Louison, a well-heeled and respected figure in the Asian market who moved to the Caribbean to become director of bars and reopen Rosewood Le Guanahani on St Barth, says island life requires you to know what you need, well ahead of needing it. “Getting supply on an island is challenging because everything arrives by boat, and these past two years it’s been very challenging due to Covid and the effect on world supply, he says. “So many containers arrived with one or two years’ delay. There were days when shops and groceries would have empty aisles. So, whatever you need for your bar, restaurant, hotel you really need to plan ahead at least three to six months to have enough supply. It keeps you on your toes to create new menus on a regular basis with what is available and trying to work with local ingredients as much as possible.”
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In the Seychelles, Rudolph was keen to explore local ingredients too – meshing them with the techniques and drinks of more established scenes. “We have been able to macerate coconut flesh and Negronis in a vac-pack and serve it rustically out of a coconut shell sporting a speed pour,” he says. “We have taken advantage of the local rum – Takamaka – and locally grown spices and fruits. By talking to the local cooks about authentic creole food, we have learned of the local flavours.” Through restriction, there comes creativity. “I’ve substituted bilimbi (which is closely related to a star fruit) for lime in a Daquiri.” And away from hotel guests, Rudolph finds that the integration of local ingredients into his cocktails builds a bridge with the islanders. “We are not looking to ‘educate’, but to build trust with the local consumer,” he says.
Starting at the first floor
The assumption – as was Wrigley’s when he first Googled the location of the Cayman Islands – was that you begin from ground zero, acting out your own scene from Tom Cruise’s Cocktail, 30 years on. But actually, not quite. “The reality was really different,” he says. “Due to the global cocktail movement, the well-travelled guests coming from major cities with brand and cocktail knowledge, and the great information network of the modern bar industry, when I got here I found several bars with ice programmes, all fresh ingredients, and plans to develop more elevated offerings.”
It turns out the virgin sands of Cayman weren’t so virgin after all – pioneers such as Simon Crompton had laid the foundations of an embryonic cocktail industry. But of course, there was still work to be done.
“That’s not to say Grand Cayman was a budding Barcelona,” says Wrigley. “The scene was behind the times, as you might expect. Many bars could barely make a Mojito. Martinis were vodka, shaken, dirty and in a plastic vessel; woe betide the poor soul who ordered an Old Fashioned outside of the best places.”
Attracting talent
Isolation is not glorious to all – recruitment can be a problem. And, while local talent is nurtured, it’s still hard to bring in experienced bartenders from abroad. “People would happily move between London, Sydney, New York, Barcelona and Singapore, but not to a flyspeck island just south of Cuba,” says Wrigley. “However, it is gradually changing.”
Over in St Barth, housing staff presents a barrier. “Living on a small island means limited space for housing,” says Louison. “Hotels usually provide housing for staff but for independent bars and restaurant it’s more rare.”
Not that it helps operators in the short term, but as these island bar industries become more sophisticated, they become an easier sell.
“New people have come to the island, attracted by the climate, money and also now the growing scene,” says Wrigley. “For myself and The Kimpton Seafire, we’re hoping to disrupt the scene here even more, with a narrative-driven, storytelling experiential cocktail bar called the Library by the Sea, opening in November. Think lab-grade prep programme, a world-class team and a curated menu (a library, in fact) of delicious, creative and fun drinks – all with a view on to one of the world’s best beaches.
For all the challenges, it’s rewarding work. “There is nothing more exciting for me than to go to uncharted territories, lay the first brick and be a pioneer,” says Louison. “The chance to be part of the making of history in something is very special.”
There’s similar ambition in the Seychelles, where Rudolph now runs four of the hotel’s bars. But, while there is an aim to raise standards and gain recognition for the venues he manages, everything is in sync with the island. “The goal is not to do craft cocktails the way that the city does them, but to adapt the fundamentals for the environment here and then to see how far the trend goes.”
For Louison, a new fledgling scene awaits – Cambodia – but for Rudolph and Wrigley, there are plans afoot, none of which are to leave. “I thought I’d be here for three years, then back to the bright lights and fast-paced life, but now I’m not so sure when I’ll leave,” says Wrigley. “Besides – isn’t it still cold and raining in London?”
