Sometimes a little bit of extra effort goes a long way. Take, for example, the folks on the frontlines at Kanaka, a subterranean spot located just up the street from the Gastown steam clock. If one thing came across during a recent visit on a gorgeous pre-summer night, it’s that the staff seem genuinely excited and happy to be at work. Attentive and infectiously pleasant, the bartender and server at Kanaka were so completely personable, you wouldn’t have been disappointed if they’d asked to pull up a chair. They obviously get the laid-back and chill vibe of this vaguely Hawaiian bar.

The word vaguely is important because, as far as the décor goes, Kanaka isn’t going to make anyone forget kitsch-cool temples like the Tiki-Ti, Mai-Kai, or Psycho Suzi’s Motor Lounge. What you get here is Polynesian lite. There’s bamboo to be found, from the barstools to the woven speaker covers, as well as hanging plant holders that look straight off the set of Gilligan’s Island. Offsetting that are touches like wooden walls that are unmistakably Pacific Northwest.

Those who only drink from vessels that Don the Beachcomber would have appreciated should ask for the ceramic orca or hula-girl mugs. As for those who are of the opinion that tiki mugs are meant solely for concoctions like zombies, mai tais, and scorpions, you’re going to have to get over the fact that there are no such purist restrictions at Kanaka. Asked what drinks are served in the restaurant’s healthy collection of tiki mugs, the bartender cheerfully replied, “Whatever you like.” Did we mention that Kanaka, which is an extension of Blacktail Florist upstairs, is completely laid-back?

Noting that, in Hawaiian, kanaka means “wild”, co-owner Jimmy Stewart says the bar was inspired by a trip to Maui but is also going for a Pacific Northwest feel.

“Fun drinks, fun times, being on a beach—that kind of idea,” he explained, interviewed by phone. “For the cocktails, we wanted to continue that idea.”

The key with Kanaka on the décor side was to make sure that things weren’t taken to an extreme.

“We didn’t want to be kitschy, but we wanted to be a little kitschy,” Stewart offered. “We wanted it to be fun Hawaiian, but also modern and not old-school tiki.”

As for the menu, think casual fusion. “With the food, it’s definitely Hawaiian-themed and Pacific Northwest,” Stewart said. “Like, if we were surfers in Vancouver, from Hawaii, where would we want to eat? There’s a strong Korean and Japanese element in Hawaiian food, so we wanted to make sure that we represented that a little bit.”

On our visit—where the bill came to $110 for two before tip—the food was, in an easygoing and unfussy way, every bit as memorable as the service. The sweet inari pockets with miso eggplant were deliciously top-loaded with perfectly ripened avocado, and the melt-in-your-mouth tuna poke with shallots was subtly seasoned and served on a slab of chip-crisp seaweed. If the pork steamed buns with pickles could have used a touch more sauce, the tangy-sweet and spicy fried chicken with sesame and green onion burned in the best of ways. The standout was the lightly dressed grilled chorizo and pineapple salad with a sinfully creamy coconut goat cheese.

Drinks weren’t a disaster, but were less successful. Billed as a concoction “named after our favourite fictional surfer”, the Bodie wasn’t available due to a lack of jalapeño-pineapple cordial; the suggested substitute was a plain old margarita that anyone with a juicer and a bottle of tequila could have whipped up at home. Both the Eddie Would Go (rum, Cointreau, orgeat) and the Long Beach Old Fashioned (rye, maple, bitters, and orange) were too heavy on their syrups. Better were the Tonquin Beach, with its bright balance of gin and apple, and the apricot-scented punch of the day. The cocktail menu was also small—what you see reviewed here is what you get at the moment—but the good news there is that Stewart says the drinks offered are mixed up regularly to focus on fresh ingredients.

One might argue that, by refusing to go all-in on either the Hawaiian or the Pacific Northwest front, Kanaka has a bit of a commitment problem. That identity crisis even extends to the music; where things should, given the spirit of the place, probably bounce back and forth between Gabby Pahinui and Pearl Jam, the universally excellent tunes instead jump from the Beach Boys to King Floyd to Real Estate.

Consider that a sign, however, that Kanaka is playing by its own rules, the only rule being a simple one: things have to be fun.