When I was a child, it seemed impossibly exotic. When I was an adolescent, it seemed impossibly tacky: Trader Vic’s in St. Louis.

I never ate there, though. For my family, dining in St. Louis meant going to Ruggieri’s, a defunct restaurant on the Hill, or, for extra special occasions, Tony’s. But whenever we drove past Trader Vic’s I’d stare wistfully at the steeply pitched entrance framed by massive Tiki torches and statues.

My best friend’s family went to Trader Vic’s, though, and I’d listen in awe as she described the décor — Polynesian symbols inscribed on tapa cloth (coconut matting), an outrigger, fishnets — and the kiddie cocktails, which were basically miniature toys on sticks stuck into a glass of fizz. I don’t think she ever talked about the food. My childhood and adolescent impressions were pretty much on target. Trader Vic’s was both impossibly exotic and impossibly tacky.

Most ethnic restaurants of the mid-20th century were owned and operated by immigrants who modified their native cuisines for American tastes. But Trader Vic’s was, from the beginning, an American’s fantasy of a South Seas paradise — the original theme restaurant. As the former editor of Saveur magazine, Coleman Andrews, wrote, “The décor was corny and the food was mostly made up — largely fantasy — but it was [and is] also delicious — and fun.” The first Trader Vic’s was opened in the 1930s in Oakland, Calif., by a colorful character with a wooden leg, Victor Bergeron.

Bergeron loved to barter, hence the name Trader Vic’s. He also loved to create elaborate “tropical” cocktails. Food was initially typical “pub grub,” but soon took on a Chinese/Polynesian/ Indonesian/etc. flare, especially after Bergeron installed what he called a Chinese oven — a huge, cylindrical, wood-burning barbeque pit that was eventually installed in all Trader Vic’s restaurants.

By the end of the ’40s, the Trader’s had become hugely popular, at least in part because the South Pacific was a big deal in those days. World War II brought an awareness of those tropical isles from returning soldiers of the Pacific front. Books such as James Michener’s Tales of the South Pacific (the basis for the musical South Pacific) and Thor Heyerdahl’s The Kon-Tiki Expedition were best sellers.

The Trader’s menu might have been faux, but it was good. A Bay area food writer quipped that the “best restaurant in San Francisco is in Oakland.” Appetizers such as Cheese Bings (essentially cheese and ham croquettes) and Bongo Bongo Soup (the main ingredients were spinach, oysters and cream, which sounds more French than Polynesian) sat side by side on the menu with Javanese lamb sates and curries.

The food was also fun, as was that atmosphere. One of the most famous gourmands of the day, Lucius Beebe, wrote that its influence is “as wide as the Pacific and as deep as a Myrtle Bank punch. It is possible for the ambitious patron with a talent for chaos to get into more trouble with obsolete anchors, coiled hausers of boa-constrictor dimensions, fish nets, stuffed sharks….Hawaiian ceremonial costumes, tribal drums, boathooks and small bore cannon than the waiters can drag out of him in a week.”

Trader Vic’s influence can still be found. It created the Mai Tai cocktail and Crab Rangoon, and popularized Pu Pu Platters.

St. Louis’ Trader Vic’s closed years ago, and I assumed the franchise was lost to a bygone era. Boy, was I wrong. Bergeron began expanding his empire in the ’50s and it’s still going strong. Trader Vic’s has 25 restaurants around the world, with places from Vegas, to London to Dubai. Chicago’s Trader Vic’s was one of the earliest outposts (1957) and was situated at the Palmer House until it closed in 2005. But a new Trader Vic’s opened at 1030 N. State a few months ago. It still features some of the old favorites, but now there’s a sushi bar, and more contemporary menu items as well. And, according to the Chicago Reader “it’s got a seriously swanky tiki vibe: the U-shaped restaurant curves around a courtyard garden with a gazebo and a couple of mammoth stone Polynesian deities who look like they’re freezing their tropical butts off in the middle of Chicago winter.”

Looks like I’ll get to experience Trader Vic’s after all. Contact Julianne Glatz at [email protected].