Once known to millions as the charismatic mixologist from Bar Rescue and crowned 2012 Bartender of the Year by the American Nightclub and Bar Organization, ‘Wishka’ Russell Davis has since traded television sets and high-volume cocktail bars for something far more profound. After years at the top of the global bar scene, Davis stepped away to embark on a decade-long spiritual and humanitarian journey—working alongside indigenous councils across the Americas, protecting sacred lands, delivering aid, and learning from ancestral traditions. Now, as he reemerges in the world of spirits and hospitality, Davis brings with him a renewed mission: to bridge ancient wisdom with modern mixology and remind the industry of the deeper purpose behind every pour.

Edited excerpts from the interview.

Q: A lot of your work has focused on working closely with indigenous and tribal communities. What inspired this shift?

A: During my time on Bar Rescue, I began to question the impact we were making. I was already fascinated with ancient and ancestral cultures—their rituals, recipes, and wisdom.And as bartenders were becoming celebrities, our craft was evolving fast. Everyone was chasing innovation—using sound waves on whiskey, experimenting with futuristic techniques—but in doing so, we were losing the foundation of what hospitality truly meant. I saw ancient drinks like blue corn chicha in Central America fading away because indigenous communities were being displaced from their lands and losing access to ingredients, yeast strains, and traditions. That realization set me on a mission—to uncover, document, and preserve these ancient practices.

Q: When you talk about indigenous ingredients, what kind of ingredients are we actually talking about? From your exploration so far, what ingredients do you think bartenders or drinkers should know more about?

A: In truth, every ingredient is indigenous to somewhere. What matters is intention—understanding where that ingredient comes from, what land it belongs to, and the culture or ritual it was part of. For me, indigenous isn’t just about an ingredient—it’s about the intersection of ingredients, techniques, and traditions. When you combine an indigenous seed with an ancestral fermentation method and sacred water, you’re connecting to human history itself. 

As for the second part of your question, it’s less about which ingredients and more about understanding where they came from and how they were used. Most people don’t realize that whiskey’s origins trace back to Central America, or that sugarcane came from India long before it reached the Caribbean. Even the pineapple—now seen as a symbol of hospitality—was once a colonial trophy, brought to Europe to display conquest and power. Today, the same pineapple is mass-produced on indigenous lands in Costa Rica, often leading to conflict and  environmental damage. The very fruit we associate with “welcome” carries a complex story of exploitation.

Q: How can bartenders be more intentional when working with indigenous ingredients?

A: Intention is everything—and it starts by asking why. Why are we using this fruit? Why is this the symbol of hospitality? Why do we celebrate certain rituals without understanding where they come from? If any bartender who has a pineapple tattoo—the so-called symbol of hospitality—ever stopped to ask why it became that symbol, they’d uncover a much deeper, more complicated history. The same goes for the pink pineapple from Costa Rica. A little curiosity reveals that this beautiful fruit, now trendy in bars, is tied to environmental damage and displacement of indigenous communities.

So intention begins with awareness—taking the time to ask questions before we follow trends blindly. Because sometimes that “why” reveals that maybe it’s not the best thing to be following. The world already had a moment of awakening during the pandemic. People were forced inward and reconnect with the “why” behind what they consumed. That’s what bartenders need to rediscover. Not just how to make a beautiful cocktail, but how to bless one—through awareness, mindfulness, and respect for where every ingredient and every tradition comes from. Somewhere along the way, our industry became obsessed with fame and forgot to ask why. Now is the time to return to that question.

Q: Many indigenous food systems are based on sustainability. When ingredients become trendy, it can disrupt those systems—like matcha or pineapple. How can the industry balance curiosity with respect?

A: By thinking holistically. indigenous systems have always been built on interconnection. Take the “three sisters” of Mesoamerica: corn, beans, and squash. Each supports the other—the bean climbs the corn stalk, the squash covers and nourishes the soil, and all three sustain one another. That’s the indigenous way. When we started planting in rows and industrializing agriculture, we broke that harmony. The land weakened, the water was diverted, and we introduced chemicals to replace what nature had already perfected. We’ve done the same thing in hospitality—over-sterilized, over-engineered, and often disconnected from the natural systems that gave birth to our ingredients in the first place. And the pineapple is the perfect example of that. Once a sacred fruit of the Americas, it became the global symbol of hospitality. But today, large-scale pineapple farming is displacing indigenous people and damaging ecosystems in Central and South America. As bartenders, we helped drive that demand. We carved pineapples into cups, flew them across continents, and never asked what it cost to get them to our bars. Then came the pink pineapple—a genetically modified novelty fruit, grown in Costa Rica’s Osa Peninsula, one of the most biodiverse regions on the planet. This single crop now competes for space and resources in a place that holds 3% of the world’s biodiversity, all for a fruit that costs $50 a piece and photographs well.

So my message to bartenders and brands is simple: stop chasing novelty. Stop turning nature into a trend. Ask why. Be human. Be intentional. Be holistic. Think about your ancestors and the systems that sustained them. That’s where true innovation—and true hospitality—begins.

Q: The consumer might not always know why an ingredient should or shouldn’t be used. What role do bartenders play here?

A: Education has always been our job. Bartenders and chefs are the teachers of taste. We decide what people are exposed to, what they celebrate, and what stories get told through flavor. If consumers are unaware, it’s because we haven’t taught them—or worse, we’ve misled them. Every cocktail that leaves the bar is an opportunity to teach. To share where an ingredient comes from, whose hands tended it, and what it represents. When we take the time to tell those stories, we transform drinking from a moment of consumption into a moment of connection. Because we are culture shapers. The choices we make behind the bar ripple outward. We can normalize mindfulness and respect, or we can perpetuate ignorance and exploitation. When we guide guests toward understanding, we don’t just serve drinks—we build awareness. 

Q: Have you seen meaningful collaborations between bars and indigenous groups that set the right example?

A: There have definitely been some great examples—and some questionable ones. I’ve been asked by several of the indigenous leaders I work with to keep an eye on how our industry uses the word “indigenous,” because not every effort that carries that label is genuine. Sometimes, the issue even comes from people with indigenous heritage themselves. They might end up profiting from traditions or symbols without understanding their depth or cultural protocols. And that can cause harm, even if the intent is good. True collaboration requires more than representation—it requires reciprocity. It’s not enough to feature indigenous ingredients or imagery; there must be respect, permission, and a cycle of giving back. 

What’s encouraging, though, is that we’re entering a more conscious era. Drinkers are starting to care about where things come from—their carbon footprint, their cultural footprint, and the stories behind what they consume. So while there are missteps, there’s also a movement toward awareness—and that gives me hope that the industry will eventually find its way back to authenticity.

 

Q: As more people become conscious about what they drink and where it comes from, where do you see this movement five years from now?

A: It’s not just a movement—it’s a return. What we call “indigenous” or “ancestral” isn’t a new idea; it’s humanity remembering what it already knew. Across the world, people are waking up to culture, ritual, and intention again. We’re starting to bless our water, honor our ingredients, and see consumption as something sacred—not just habitual.

And for those who really want to understand this shift, my message is simple: go there. Don’t just read about it in a book or learn it from a brand. Go into the jungles, the deserts, the islands, the mountains—wherever the First Peoples still live in connection with their lands. Study. Listen. Serve. Learn directly from the source. Because nothing is truly lost; the wisdom is still there, waiting for those who approach it with humility and purpose.

Ultimately, intention is everything. It’s what transforms an act of drinking into a ritual of gratitude, and hospitality into a form of healing. Every religion, every culture, every philosophy points to this same moment—the time to realign, to return to balance. And that time is now.

Header image sourced from Wishka Russell Davis (Instagram).