Upon first arriving at one Friday night in late September, I can¡¯t shake the feeling that things are out of place.

Outside, a sign in brass lettering beckons me in, an understated exterior compared to the garishness common on the nearby main drag of Kokusai-dori. Inside, stained-glass transoms top backlit shelves of bottles behind the bar, and an array of Panama hats hang on the wall bookending the dozen-plus seat counter.

Very little of it feels particularly Okinawan to me, but a bit later, in that magical moment between my first cocktail (the Mabuyer¡¯s Punch: a cookie-like mix of rum, clarified milk and Okinawan black sugar liqueur) and the next (the Have A Blast: a weighty blend of mezcal and ²õ³ó¨­³¦³ó¨±, one of Japan¡¯s indigenous spirits, and pit viper-infused habushu liqueur) it hits me: El Lequio is Okinawa through and through ¡ª whether Okinawa is ready for it or not.