June 9, 2008
By: Ken Alan
kalan@aroundphilly.com
In his downtime during the colder months, Jim Finnegan will fly south to Panama, take a precarious taxi ride through the mountainous terrain and, finally, arrive at his winter home some 5,000 feet above sea level. There, he’ll disappear for a couple weeks, surrounding himself with a more easygoing and TV-less way of life – read books, drink beer and when he’s hungry or lonely, he will go into the small village nearby and enjoy cheap, tasty sub-tropical meals while cavorting with the locals.
Sounds nice, doesn’t it?
The irony, though, about Finnegan’s laconic lifestyle is that the daily grind he’s escaping from is not so far a state-of-mind reality from his ideal off-season getaway.
Finnegan operates the Tiki Bar, or actually, as of seven years ago, he’s been the proud padre of two of them, the latter being situated at the base of the Spring Mountain ski resort in Montgomery County.
If that elevated Schwenksville restaurant seems “out there,” it’s nothing like Finnegan’s first food and drink foray, which he’s owned for the past nineteen years.
For sure, you may want to fire up the GPS and consider bringing a designated driver, because you’re in for adventure when trying to find his original Tiki Bar, a few clicks above bucolic Boyertown, along “the raging Manatawny” River in middle-of-nowhere Earlville, Berks County.
This stated, I wouldn’t even consider reporting on such a distant locale if it weren’t the roadside oasis it happens to be; a multi-colored cantina that draws fans from nearby towns and closer states.
There is nothing else like the Tiki Bar. It’s the antithesis of all you’ve ever experienced, you know, faux, beach-y settings where expensive drinks flow and the reggae sounds fine. But the music is really just audio subterfuge that works to mask the fact that you are actually in a shopping mall or along a smoggy city street, and “island fare” really means corporate mass production as servers’ soullessly recite the day’s treacle-y specials.
No, this Tiki Bar is the real thing: a cool surf shack with possibly the best outdoor venue you can catch west of the shore. It’s where the “Hey, mon!” attitude from the young, madras shorts-wearing staff is legitimately laid-back; where the beer is cold and the Hurricanes are potent and, ultimately, where you get to be your own chef. Booze, Bob Marley and barbecues – what a great concept!
This roadhouse is casual and rustic like the tiki bars you’ll find while driving along the Florida Keys. Here, though, sycamores drape giant limbs over umbrella’d tables, like so many lazy palm trees. A couple of thatched hut bars beckon; the perfect place to sit, sip and take it slow and easy. Meanwhile, that “Raging Manatawny” (its moniker is an oxymoron) gently drifts on by, its cerulean surface could as easily be a Panamanian jungle tributary, if you didn’t know any better.
The TB idea is simple and quite ingenious, actually: In the refrigerated cases, there’s chicken, shish kabob, steaks and sushi-grade tuna, salmon and tilapia, but also, the fare gets more adventurous, with alligator, elk, and boar offered as well. A raw bar is available, too, on Friday and Saturday nights.
You’re provided a cut-of-choice along with a foil-wrapped baking potato and also, a simple side salad – all for around twenty bucks. Sidle up to any one of the grills and have-at-it. There’s one inside and three ‘cues out back.
Drink with the other patrons while sizzling up your own dinner. Friendly staffers linger nearby to help in your preparation if need be (and they make sure you don’t woozily burn a body part). A full array of barbecue and hot sauces and lemons, limes and seasonings are there to splash and dust on your food while it sizzles up.
It’s like the ultimate shore party, though this one occurs every night of the week.
Like Finnegan’s down-south retreat, there’s not one TV to be found here; no ESPN-induced hypnosis, like you’ll find along most other bar stools. The river is the only show around.
While the second Tiki Bar is strictly operational during warmer months, this one stays open year-round, 4pm - midnight from May through September, and then we play indoors on Friday and Saturday nights the rest of the year.
The crowd is as multi-generational as it is a cross-cultural one. I have been there several times with my kids, and also, with friends when we’ve dined and drank late into the night. College students flock there and oldsters, too.
And motorcycle dudes; you see the weekend warrior white-collared riders and their shiny BMW bikes parked next to Harley's driven by pony-tailed salt-of-the earth types.
Like the food, Finnegan takes great stock in his drink. He goes well beyond Red Stripe and Corona, beer-wise. On a recent visit, I sat with him and chatted while taking down one favorite, Rogue Dead Guy Ale; then another one, Troegs Hop Back Ale.
And if you like rum, then this is the right place. Finnegan claims that between his two Tiki’s, he’s the state’s number-one seller of the clear sugar cane stuff.
It’s late afternoon and the sun is still fiery; fans are beginning to filter in as “Jammin’” begins a steel drum bop out of speakers mounted high above in the sycamores. Finnegan greets several in a long line of regulars.
For someone so busy, the man sure seems like he’s on a Panamanian vacation. I see why: Not many of us get to work in paradise.
Tiki Bar, Manatawny Rd., Earlville, PA, 610.689.4707, www.tikibarpa.com
