Miyakojima, Okinawa Pref. šC Utaro Izaki walks toward me across the sand, carrying what looks like a lantern. Waves crash onto the shore behind him. The lamp-like object flickers in the looming darkness of dusk here on Miyakojima, the largest island in the Miyako archipelago that makes up roughly 10% of Okinawa¡¯s landmass.

The ¡°lantern¡± turns out to be a cocktail called Yaamubo, named after a folk song in which young weavers of the island¡¯s traditional Miyako Âáš­ŽÚ³Ü ¡ª a painstakingly handwoven fabric made from ramie (Boehmeria nivea) thread ¡ª beckon fireflies into their homes as they work by moonlight.

The light source is an LED coaster beneath a wooden cover, evoking the small basket used by the weavers to trap the lightning bugs. The illuminated glass above it contains an elixir of Mezcal Los Siete Misterios, Hotaru no Yado umeshu (plum liqueur) and local jasmine tea, garnished with a jewel-like mini tomato.

The Yaamubo is one of six signature cocktails (?4,000 each) inspired by local customs and traditions at Rosewood Miyakojima¡¯s new bar, Choma, an eponym of the local ramie plant. The earth-toned, 24-seat venue features a stylishly sand-swept, seafront cabana.

The hotel opened in March last year; Choma will officially open in April. The bar is one of several beachfront structures within a dining complex of the same name, where sushi, tempura, yakitori and teppanyaki have their own dedicated spaces.

Bartender Izaki, who oversees the cocktail program, was drawn to the island¡¯s unhurried rhythm, wild landscape and community traditions.

¡°I still remember the day I arrived (here) ¡ª the temperature of the wind on my chest, and the impossibly clear color of the sea,¡± says Isaki, who spent nearly two decades at Park Hyatt Tokyo before moving south last year for his new role at Rosewood Miyakojima.

Izaki immersed himself in the local culture to gather ideas for his potable folklore. He soaked up stories from village elders and visited nearby museums so obsessively that staff asked what he did for a living. ¡°When I told them I¡¯m a bartender, they couldn¡¯t understand why I kept going back there,¡± he says, laughing.

One of his drinks, Paantu, is named after an indigenous festival in which men dress up as muddy supernatural creatures and anoint villagers with mud for good luck and protection from misfortune. Izaki went as far as to earn permission to use the ritual as inspiration for his cocktail by joining the pre-festival ŽÇ³Ùš­°ùŸ±, a daylong drinking ceremony. The rite offers only three acceptable ways of taking your leave: the bar runs dry, your spouse calls you home or you slip away in silence. Saying goodbye is forbidden.

Izaki says he ¡°passed out around 3 p.m.¡± before...