It’s not easy to find Miami’s best tiki bar, and that’s kind of by design. Like me, most people miss the buzzer on the east side of the condo building’s exterior that says “Ring for a Mai-Tai.” Instead, I went up to the host stand at the neighboring Esotico and was led down a dark hallway near the bathrooms that ended at an unmarked door. “Just wait here,” said the host as I attempted to orient myself.
A minute later, the door opened into a place that felt transported straight from the Big Island. The Hawaiian-themed Kaona Room is delightfully tropical, kitschy and original.
At the end of the carved wood bar, below its thatched roof, I ran into one of Kaona Room’s owners, Daniele Dalla Pola, wearing—what else?—a vintage Hawaiian shirt. He’s from Milan and totally like an Italian version of the Big Lebowski. Growing up, for reasons he can’t identify, he always dreamt of escaping to Polynesia.
So when Dalla Pola moved to the States and became a restaurateur (he’s a partner in Spris, Salumeria 104 and Esotico), he began sketching out an idea for a true tiki bar—not a tourist trap but a spot that pays proper homage to all things aloha.
The place is full of antiques and original pieces of island decor: statuesque lamps with woven shades, big wicker chairs and glass fishing buoys. All of it is just barely lit, with jazzy island sounds adding to the quietly mysterious feel.
There’s no other bar like it in Miami. It’s not a scene, not packed with pretty folks, but Kaona Room is somewhere that feels special enough to bring your next out-of-town guests who are more impressed with details like flaming ice cubes and tableside cocktail carts than door lines and guest lists.
For the drinks menu, Dalla Pola began with classic tiki cocktails and made them his own. My first one was the Ghost, essentially a zombie but clarified until it’s crystal as spring water. It was sweet, tart, with a hint of spice—and as strong as a sucker punch to the kisser. Halfway through, Dalla Pola suggested putting it aside so I could try another. Next up came the Aged Mai Tai, prepared with an almond paste made in-house.
By the time it arrived, so did the dishes that Dalla Pola had recommended. At our corner of the bar, we had a pretty little beet salad and a hot pot rice dish with slices of beef and roe fanned across the top.
As I sat, other guests emerged from that hallway looking as mystified as I probably did, the red-orange nook coming into focus from out of the darkness. Dalla Pola said he wants people to feel like they’ve gone on vacation at Kaona Room, and we did. The flashing flames and sound effects of rolling thunder each time a cocktail is delivered—not to mention the booze itself—all add up to a delightfully disorienting, alternate-Hawaiian reality in Miami.
