As fall is settling in and most places are sloughing off the final vestiges of summer, it is an appropriate time to savor what might be the prototypical summer potable. The piña colada is that rare drink that is many things: revered, maligned, dismissed, and, to at least a certain extent, misunderstood.
What has to be regarded as one of the drinks on the Tiki Cocktail Mt. Rushmore is also one that has become bastardized over the decades. As it swelled in popularity, its demise was inevitable; commercialization was bound to undermine this classic.
As hotels and tourist bars adopted this as a staple to feed the ersatz tropical environment the visitors craved, it was certain that shortcuts and assembly line practices would follow. Premixed versions, powdered, and then the machine-extruded versions were going to arrive. I blanch anytime I see frozen drink dispensers in a location.
For many people, the piña colada is a novelty drink poured forth in a zaftig hurricane glass (or, more likely, a plastic one), with ornate garnishes and maybe even paper parasol-stabbed cherries, by rote. This is such a departure from the standard that it would be like wearing a swimsuit at an indoor pool in Cedar Rapids and saying you are practically in the Caribbean
The most aggravating part is that the basic ingredients for a freshly made version are hardly difficult to obtain, and yet such has been the fate of this elixir. So in a bid to bring proper respect to this gem, let’s do our favorite thing with the classic and delve into the history.
The Expected Homeland
Unlike tracking the origins of many other cocktails, the piña colada is a bit easier to pin down on the historical map. But this is drinking history we are discussing, so foggy details are bound to rear up, and with something as popular as this drink, contested origins are unsurprisingly involved. One fanciful version has this beginning 200 years back, on the high seas.
A pirate known as El Pirata Cofresí, regarded mythically as a Robin Hood of the high seas, was said to have salved his crew with a combination of some of the Caribbean’s main ingredients: Rum, pineapple, and coconut water or coconut milk. Given this was the early 1800s, it is probably mostly apocryphal, and given his demise at the hands of anti-pirate authorities, the recipe's provenance, if it existed, likely died with him at the firing squad.
Given that the name translates as “strained pineapple,” there are many references through the decades, but these are mostly drinks with pineapple juice as the main ingredient. There are allusions to a version originating in Cuba. In a 1922 issue of “Travel Magazine,” they name-checked the drink, but with a derivation from what it is known as today: “The juice of a perfectly ripe pineapple — a delicious drink in itself — rapidly shaken up with ice, sugar, lime and Bacardi rum in delicate proportions. What could be more luscious, more mellow and more fragrant?"
One would think that one of the two tiki gods in America – Don the Beachcomber or Trader Vic – would have been at the forefront of this concoction. I went through my copy of Vic’s 1947 drinks guide, but among the 1,500 cocktail recipes, this does not appear. There is a reference to a base drink in an “At the Bar” column in the New York Times, discussing some regional Caribbean offerings, like “Drinks in the West Indies range from Martinique's famous Rum Punch to Cuba's Pina Colada (rum, pineapple and coconut milk).”
While that sounds like the genesis, there was possibly one more step to achieving immortality. For that, we travel back to the island of the dread pirate Cofresi.
The Coconut Revolution
Puerto Rico lays claim to the invention in the early 1950s, with most of the credit being granted to a bartender named Ramon “Monchito” Marrero, who worked at Caribe Hilton in San Juan, plying his trade in the “Beachcomber Bar.” Marrero was charged with coming up with a signature drink for guests and initially drew up a virgin smoothie made with pineapple and a new product on the market.
In 1949, the Puerto Rican government wanted to begin developing native industries to benefit the island, and it issued one grant to the University of Puerto Rico. There, a professor of agriculture, Ramon Lopez Irizarry, began work on creating a new method of extracting the needed flavors from the local crop of coconuts. Developing a new process, he combined the extracted coconut cream and blended it with cane sugar and stabilizers. The brand Coco Lopez Cream of Coconut was the result.
This became a boon for the creation of the cocktail, with its popularity making the brand explode in popularity. Irizarry retired a millionaire, and today, after the company was sold repeatedly, Coco Lopez has its center of production in the Dominican Republic. Using local crops, they process about 50 million coconuts annually.
The arrival of Coco Lopez means Marrero is positioned for proper credit of creation, as another development came later. The electric blender was not available on the island until around this time, and this meant that using rum for a frozen cocktail was made easier and launched the historic mixture.
At another restaurant on the island, Dom Ramon, the bartender at Barrachina, in Old San Juan, claims to have created the drink. Today, Barrachina sports a placard outside proclaiming to be the birthplace, although it dates its invention roughly eight years after the Caribe Hilton. The Puerto Rican government declared the piña colada as its official national drink in 1978, and in 2004, the government issued a proclamation to the Hilton on what it deemed the 50th anniversary of the creation of its national cocktail.
Creating the Tropics
First off, forego anything that is a mix. If you are going to make one of these elixirs, go fresh — it is not that much more work. Pineapple juice, Coco Lopez, and fresh pineapple are required. (Canned will also work if fresh is not available.) Shredded coconut is also a welcome addition. And use a mid-grade rum, usually a white. Cheap stuff will screw with the flavor, and aged sipping rum will be too dominant, and its quality will be impacted by the ingredients.
To get the best consistency, watch the blender when it is running with your rum at the ready. You’ll want to get the mixture thick to the point it barely swirls, then drizzle the rum lightly until the top of the mix dimples and starts to just circulate. That is when the ice is properly broken up and the consistency is ideal.
The Basic
(per serving)
2oz. White Rum
4oz. Pineapple Juice
2oz. Coco Lopez Cream of Coconut
Crushed Pineapple
Cracked Ice
Blend ingredients until smooth, and serve in a daiquiri glass. Garnish with a pineapple slice.
The Complex
If you are up for an elevated version, replace the ice with vanilla ice cream. Add coconut flakes to the blender, and after pouring, sprinkle the top with more flakes. Float dark rum on top. This takes this to a new level.
