Sara and Brian found the perfect Crab Rangoon. Then, they lost it.
For those that might not know, Crab Rangoon is classic Tiki. Although many might erroneously think the appetizer could be traced to traditional Chinese cooking, it’s not. Crab Rangoon was birthed in a tiki bar. You won’t find cream cheese in Chinese (or Burmese) recipes. You will undoubtedly find cream cheese and a dash of A1 sauce in many mid-century, highly processed American dishes. The now-classic appetizer is attributed to Asian-American chef Joe Young, who worked for Victor Bergeron at Trader Vic’s in Beverly Hills. Look at a vintage Trader Vic’s 1955 menu, and you’ll find it.
What pairs better with a citrusy rum concoction than something creamy and deep-fried? Some of us hold on to the notion that crispy wontons soak up alcohol, giving us permission for one more cocktail. Pass me another Crab Rangoon, and I promise not to tell.
When Sara and Brian tasted the Crab Rangoon at xxx, it was perfection. The wonton was crispy and light, not heavy or oily. The filling was chock full of fresh crab. The shape was long and skinny to ensure an even temperature throughout. A spicy apricot sauce was served as the ideal condiment. When Sara and Brian savored one, they were transported to paradise.
Sadly, when the pandemic hit, that perfect Crab Rangoon was lost. When they returned for a visit after the world opened back up, the tasty appetizer had disappeared from the menu, and it never returned. Some people might wallow in grief, but not Sara and Brian. They channeled energy into building The Lost Rangoon, a classic home Tiki bar, with a name that references how perfection can easily get lost – if you let it.
Like that Crab Rangoon, Sara and Brian’s The Lost Rangoon is also perfection. The decor is classic Tiki. You’ll immediately get the visual connections to long-gone Chinese Tiki Temples that kept Polynesian Pop alive from the 50s into the 70s. You’ll find flawless shades of Chinese reds and golds painted on bamboo balanced with velvet and barkcloth textures of oranges, browns, and aquas. You’ll marvel at the collection of carved wooden tikis that command the room, paired with classic garden murals and sunset-inspired walls. You’ll channel the quirkiness of a Brady Bunch home mashed with the Creature from the Black Lagoon. You will start to wonder about the tiki birdhouses with Star Wars action-figure inhabitants. You might even question why the Golden Elvis high on the shelf was made up with rouge and eye shadow, but you’ll definitely confirm it’s just the right mix of old supper club meets hip grandparents’ basement. Sit and savor the space; you’ll find the perfect paradise.
One of The Lost Rangoon’s most marvelous features breaks the conventional rules of Tiki bar decor. Some creators insist there be no natural light in a tiki bar, but Sara and Brian’s bar proves that this rule needs reconsideration. Set on the bottom floor of their groovy split-level 70s home, they capitalize on the diffused light from a window to create an ethereal effect. The bar’s window is a colonial-style frame underneath the outside deck that gets no direct sunlight. Sara layered a simple pebble-effect opaque shower curtain, some faux tropical vines, and plastic green panels from an old mid-century repurposed screen to create her effect. The result is impeccable. You’ll get lost in light that mimics an undersea dive or jungle rainforest excursion.
Sara and Brian may have lost a perfect Crab Rangoon, but a perfect paradise emerged from that misfortune. You’ll want to get lost in this Rangoon.
