I feel it necessary to begin with a disclaimer: I hate scorpions. It may be more appropriate to say I both loathe and fear them, but my contempt really knows no bounds. Freakish, ancient, alien little arachnids, I’m still not quite sure if I believe they developed from life’s common ancestor or were dropped here by a planetary neighbor to scare the living bejeesus out of people (read: me). Obviously I know which is actually true, but you get the point. Hate.

As a result, I am generally wary of anything named after the scorpion, as the name is uniformly used to invoke the stinging nature of the little beasties. I don’t care much for being stung, and would be just as happy to live my life free from it. That said, the name still has not stopped me from admiring this Scorpion, a tiki drink traditionally served in a large bowl with enough portions for about four people. In this case, it seems the “sting” reference is an apt one.

I came upon this recipe in one of my recent acquisitions, Trader Vic’s Bartender’s Guide, Revised. Trader Vic is notable for many things, among them successfully shoehorning himself into popular culture as our longest-lasting tiki icon. You can still buy Trader Vic’s brand mixers at pretty much every liquor store, and I recently unearthed a nearly empty bottle of Trader Vic’s real pomegranate grenadine from the back of my grandmother’s pantry dated from the mid-70s. His book, though not necessarily full of inventive cocktail originals, is peppered with loads of the blustery anecdotes that made Vic such a larger-than-life character. Plus, it includes recipes for some interesting drinks and gives a good idea of what was going on behind his bars in 1975.

1 ½ oz lemon juice
2 oz orange juice
½ oz orgeat syrup
1 oz brandy
2 oz light Puerto Rican rum

Blend with one scoop shaved ice. Pour into a grapefruit supreme glass (or large brandy snifter), add ice cubes and garnish with a gardenia.

Killing time before meeting a friend, I decided that I needed a drink. Something cold, tart, refreshing and jammed to the gills with ice. Big, beautiful chunks of cold, wonderful ice. I skimmed and skimmed, finally landing on this lovely yellow concoction. In the process, I noticed something rather disturbing about Trader Vic’s rum drinks: the man had an addiction to light Puerto Rican rum. Nearly every single recipe I looked at uses light Puerto Rican rum. I’ll need to pick up a year’s supply if I’m going to keep making drinks from this book.

Regardless, it appears I am on a hot streak, as this is another winner. Despite the orange juice and orgeat, this drink is tart though not particularly lemony. It has the bite of citric acid and a wonderful soft body—not nearly as syrupy as I thought it might be. It doesn’t suffer too much from the melting ice, mellowing out the tartness but leaving most of the flavor behind.

You’ll probably notice my lack of gardenia. I’ve tried many times and failed to grow them successfully here in sunny SoCal, finally coming to believe that it’s just too damn dry for my meager gardening skills to coax them to life. Instead, I opted for a little lemon flower to garnish. It was a pretty end to the most difficult lemon I’ve yet had to hack to bits.