We have a tradition around the New Times offices called Beer Fridays, where we basically reserve the last two hours of a workweek to drink in excess. It's a good tradition, as you might imagine, and it was upheld this past Friday when we sampled two bottles of Voodoo Tiki Tequila, a brand new imbibe distributed right here in Pembroke Pines.
Now I know what you're thinking: Tequila from Pembroke Pines? Well, I did say distributed in Pines. The folks at Voodoo Tiki actually import their Silver, Reposado, and Anejo tequilas straight from Jalisco, the capital of the agave world. So be sure: Jose Cuervo this is not. Despite a somewhat ridiculous marketing strategy (Voodoo= Caribbean, Tiki=Polynesian, Tequila=Mexico...so, so strange), Voodoo Tiki is real tequila.
But did these Tiki Gods pass muster with a bunch of drunk reporters? Hit the jump to find out.
As you can see, they went a long way with the theme. Each bottle came with not only a portly Tiki Godshot glass, but also a portly Tiki idol embedded inside. I have to admit, the bottles did look really cool all frozen and frosty with those little dudes peering out from inside. It certainly fits with the tagline anyway ("Get friki, there's magic inside"). The bottles are also individually signed by the tequila maker and inscribed with your "magic word." Ours said "Happiness." True dat, tequila dude.
First up: Platinum, or Silver. Platinum tequila is basically stuff that hasn't been aged, just distilled until it's crystal clear. The result is a floral, bitey tequila without that rich, woody, aged flavor generally associated with whiskey or Scotch. Voodoo's Platinum was still fairly smooth, and sort of syrupy-thick, as you can see below. A similar tequila I would compare it to is Milagro a cheap-but-good-enough tequila my friends and I will usually get to mix in margeritas.
Our own Jonathan Cunningham must've really liked it: "Hit me up again," he said, tipping his little plastic shot glass in my direction. He did that like -- I don't know -- four times. A couple of guys from our business team came over to sample as well. Each of them loved it. Brian, despite "hating tequila," said it wasn't bad at all. Ash wanted to know where he could buy some. (Check out the website, Ash!) Eric, our esteemed editor, noted he probably wouldn't sip this tequila straight, but he would make drinks with it. Folks looking to travel that route may want to check out Voodoo's flavored tequilas, infused with prickly pear, Mandarin lime, and blue kiwi.
Next: Anejo, or aged one year. Tequila usually doesn't do well aged beyond a year, so anejo is about as far as tequila makers are willing to take it. I prefer reposado myself, which is somewhere in between anejo and silver. This one I didn't like too much. I'm just not an anejo guy, in the same way I don't really like scotch. Neither did Amy, who bucked back with each swig. "Ugg, it tastes like rubbing alcohol," she commented. I don't know that I agreed, per se (to me it tasted like twigs), but I do agree that the silver was a bit better.
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But those that do like intense flavors seemed to enjoy the anejo for the most part. Miche got drunk off the stuff, which is a good sign. Mooney and James winced as they drank it, but both thought it was good enough to have a bit more.
So would I shell out my own cash for Voodoo Tiki? Sure, if the price was right. A good bottle of anejo can set you back $50 or more, while silvers fall in the $30 range. If Voodoo was competitive with the budget "real" tequilas (like Milagro), I would definitely consider it. Then again, if it was priced like a Herradura or a Don Julio I wouldn't even give it a second glace. And, I probably wouldn't spend the extra bucks that the anejo commands, no matter the price. I'd stick with the silver or maybe try the reposado next time.
Here's another Tiki God shot to leave you with. Until next Beer Friday, hasta luego.
-- John Linn