“It’s a goldmine, a GOLDmine, I tell you! Teaming with untapped potential!” “I have to advise against this, Conrad. There are more advantageous opportunities for diversification.” “It’s the 1940’s”, another man said, “for heaven’s sake, Conrad the Caribbean is on the way out. Let alone a dump like San Juan.” His board members tried to dissuade him, but Mr. Conrad Hilton possessed those two most deadliest of attributes, preposterous self-confidence and unbridled ambition. We are talking about a man who kept a copy of his autobiography in every room of his eponymous hotel chain. So opposing was his board of directors and so adamant was Mr. Hilton that he formed a separate company in order to take his hotels beyond the contiguous U.S. Thus, in 1949 the Caribe Hilton opened its doors as the first Hilton International property in San Juan, Puerto Rico.
Congruently the island’s governor, Luis Muñoz Marín, was implementing Operation Bootstrap. An auspicious plan to industrialize and modernize P.R. Operation Bootstrap also served as the perfect PR stunt for Conrad Hilton to bring his special brand of American luxury to the tropics. His grand vision was to offer travelers from the U.S. the leisure lifestyle and creature comforts they had come to expect from home while venturing abroad. Because, after all, why travel to a tropical island paradise if it’s not exactly like Manhattan?
In this sense one can argue the degradation of the tropical escape began waning under the stress of capitalism thanks to Hilton. He ostensibly laid the groundwork for what would eventually become the dreadful “all inclusive” resort. We can’t point all the blame on old Conrad, though. It’s true, the classic Caribbean getaways like Jamaica and Cuba, those historical Mecca’s of Tropical rumgenuity, had seen better days. Tiki was becoming kitsch, Havana was boiling towards revolution, and air travel added much more options to the tropical palate.
Even with cocktail legend Joe Scialom at the helm and an actual Trader Vic’s restaurant in the lobby, the Caribe Hilton was forever destined to become the harbinger of tropical transition. So it’s fitting that the Caribe Hilton holds claim to the drink that represents the passage of tropical cocktails into boat drinks. It simultaneously employs a simple and delicious recipe while opening the floodgates of untoward, and frankly unpalatable, future concoctions.
Yet, its cultural impact on San Juan and the genre of tropical drinks in general is undeniable. So, ladies and gentlemen, guys and dolls, grab your speedo, some SPF 50, send the kids to the buffet and head up to the Lido deck ‘cuz today we’re cruising with some Piña Coladas, baby.
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I absolutely welcome this break from conjecture. It’s about time I don’t have to spend countless hours piecing together some kind of origin story. Instead those hours can be spent in the name of recipe research, i.e., tasting lots of Piña Coladas. The reason this drink holds a place in our paradismal portfolio of debauchery is that its origins are actually quite Caribbean.
The Piña Fria, literally meaning cold pineapple, is a Cuban drink made of fresh pressed unstrained pineapple juice with rum. Rum and pineapple are no strangers in the night. On the contrary, the two compliment each other like Bogey and Bacall, Sid and Nancy, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. In fact, my first foray into tropical dalliance was Captain Morgan White and pineapple juice with a lime wedge squeezed on top. (I later discovered I was drinking a bastardized pineapple daiquiri.) Trader Vic himself wrote about a contraption used in Havana where a vender would, “Turn a crank to beat hell”, rendering fresh unstrained pineapple juice then mixed with rum and sugar to make Ron Piñas. Strain it and add shaved ice and you have a Strained Pineapple or … Piña Colada. This is still referred to as a Cuban style Piña Colada, but there’s a little more to the story before we get the creamy frozen coconut concoction we know and love as the quintessential summer drink.
Lots of local Puerto Rican entrepreneurs benefited from Operation Bootstrap seed money. Including one start-up company Coco Lopez Cream of Coconut. Coconut cream has a longstanding tradition in Puerto Rican cuisine, but prior to Coco Lopez rendering cream of coconut was an arduous task of gathering, grating, heating, straining and skimming. Coco Lopez did all the hard work, mixed it with cane sugar, and sold it in a can beginning in 1954.
Like so many Caribbean hotels do even to this day the Caribe Hilton offered a welcome drink to new arrivals checking in. A bit of pre-depravity potion for those looking for the quickest route towards trading banality for bacchanal. The Caribe’s welcome drink already included coconut cream (the hard way), mixed with rum, apricot brandy, coconut water and lime juice. Now utilizing the new Coco Lopez product coconut cream flowed like tropical Manna from the Tiki gods into all manner of island drink. That’s when bartender Ramón “Monchito” Marrero Pérez suggested adding some Coco Lopez to the hotel’s Piña Fria. They mixed it, sipped it, and he looked around the room. “Eh? Eh? Am I right, or am I right?”
Somewhere in Tahiti a totem’s eyes glowed red, future cruise ship captains shifted uncomfortably in their beds, every island in the Caribbean shook like a wet dog, a stressed out businessman bought an Hawaiian shirt, expats sneered while parent’s excitedly dreamed of poolside excursions, and all the while dollar signs rolled in Conrad Hilton’s eyes. Much like a dystopian future where our own technology rises against us, the advent of the Piña Colada set in motion the beginning of the end of vintage tropicalia.
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Okay, okay. I’m being a bit hard on the ol’ Colada. Truth is, this was indeed the last drink considered part of the “traditional” tropical repertoire. It gets a bad rap, but totally deserves to be here. Why? Because at its heart the Piña Colada still embodies and emboldens flavors of the Caribbean. When I was in Vinales, Cuba we visited a tobacco farm on which was a little shack in a field with a covered patio for us to rest along our walking tour. Here they offered my fiance a Piña Colada. I don’t know what to tell you but this was one of the best things I ever put in my mouth. Period. Hands down. I can’t even do it justice in words. Ice creamy, coconutty, puree of pineapple, maybe? I don’t know what they put in there but it was amazing. Then we find out it was virgin, just a refresher. When asked if she wanted rum they brought out a bottle of vodka and told her to help herself. It was a strange but absolutely amazing experience. (Then we sipped some homemade guava or guanabana rum, but that’s another story). That experience showed me what a Piña Colada could and should be, and I set out on a mission replicate it!
I could not. Whatever the family secret is on that Cuban tobacco farm it is lost on this yanqui. But that didn’t halt my endeavor to find the perfect Piña Colada. One that transcends cruise ship pools and premade frozen mixes.
The national drink of Puerto Rico holds court alongside the essential tropical vacation sippers. In Key West you’re getting a margarita. Evening in Havana, you better order a daiquiri. When dancing in Miami it’s Mojitos. You better get a Planter’s punch in Jamaica. If you go to a tiki bar it would be a fool’s errand not to order a Mai Tai or Zombie. Keeping in that spirit, when you’re lounging by the pool nothing checks all the boxes like a good old fashioned Piña Colada. The Piña Colada is to pools what whiskey is to campfires. So, let’s make a drink!
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The weird part about a Piña Colada is that unlike it’s Margarita or Mai Tai counterparts a poor Piña still tastes pretty good. It’s like pizza, right? Sure, that spot on the corner in Brooklyn makes the best late night slice in town but in a pinch I’ll still devour a frozen Red Baron. (Is it still ok to say Red Baron?) But seriously, rum, pineapple juice and coconut cream are going to taste great in any combo. But I’m going to go over what I found to create a sophisticated boat drink, if there is such a thing.
Let’s start, as one always should, with rum. It’s said that Monchito Perez used Don Q gold at the Caribe Hilton when creating the first Piña Colada. Don Q is pretty affordable, but as you know I believe there is a place for all kinds of rums. Don’t be a snob about it. I went ahead and got a bottle each of silver and gold Don Q. Even if the rum wasn’t good, which it really is, I would still have stuck with the classic Puerto Rican Don Q simply for tradition. Intuitively it didn’t make a difference. Both flavors, separate or combined, barely cut through the intense rich frozen creaminess of a Piña Colada. I went with gold for posterity.
Next let’s tackle the aforementioned cream of coconut. Coco Lopez is still the agreed upon standard for tropical tippling en masse. I’ve also used the Goya brand which I find works just as well and may be more available in certain areas. Upon inspecting the labels the biggest difference is calorie and serving size. Coco Lopez is 130 calories per serving against Goya’s 110. Which tells me Coco Lopez got 20 more deliciousness. Both are products of Dominican Republic and both come in 15 oz cans even though Goya claims to have one more serving per can then Lopez. Telling me that it’s a true Caribbean product, where rules of measurement are merely a suggestion. Honestly both are fine but I did find Coco Lopez a bit more rich, so I recommend it as it hits the points for all versions of this drink. More on that later.
The other pertinent ingredient is of course pineapple juice. It’s imperative, I think, to procure the right pineapple for the version of this drink you’re making. As much as I hate to admit it you can actually use the generic Dole pineapple juice for the basic version of a Piña Colada. It does offer some sweetness since there is no added sugar in this “cocktail”. I will, as always though, recommend using a not-from-concentrate unsweetened juice such as that from Trader Joe’s. But alas, in keeping with the Cuban style of fresh pressed, (sort of), I found that cutting up a whole pineapple and macerating it in a blender renders a smooth flavorful fresh alternative to pre-canned juice! Blended up and set aside you can then use the same measurement of pineapple puree in place of juice to add a bit of texture to your Piña Colada that will not only impress but instill a bit of tradition in your drink.
The final two ingredients are used in one version we will discuss. Those are lime juice, which you know my stance on, always using fresh squeezed or letting God have mercy on your soul, and lastly heavy cream. Make sure to get heavy whipping cream, but any brand will do. I recommend your local store brand.
Okay, so today we’re gonna cover three recipes I found to be the best in all categories; classic, fancy, and boat drink.
The first is my least favorite but worth an honorable mention. That’s the classic over ice. This is most likely how it would have been originally served at the Caribe Hilton. Electric blenders were already in use by Constantine in Cuba by now but the Piña Colada being a riff on Caribe’s Pina Fria, they probably would not have employed the frozen aspect till later. So it stands to reason the first pina colada was not frozen. As follows:
2oz Puerto Rican Rum
1½oz Coconut Cream
3oz Pineapple (juice or puree)
½oz Lime Juice
Shake and pour over crushed ice into a Hurricane or tall Collins glass. Garnish with pineapple chunk and bright red maraschino cherry for effect.
The next recipe we’re going to cover is for the aficionados out there. If you want to make your Piña Colada more of a high end cocktail with more complexity. This is the version I’ve distilled down through vigorous “research” on how to fancy up a Piña Colada. More of a dessert drink this recipe will leave men and women alike singing your Piña power prowess for summers to come. Ahem:
2oz Don Q Gold Rum
1½oz Coco Lopez Coconut Cream
3oz Pineapple Puree
½oz Lime Juice
1oz Heavy Cream
1 cup Crushed Ice
Blend all that (I recommend in a Nutribullet), and pour into a Hurricane or tall tiki mug. Drop two maraschino cherries on top for effect and I dare you to tell me you’re not in a fool's paradise. Warning: More than one of these in a small period of time can leave one quite full and creamy.
The last recipe is your standard boat drink Piña Colada, and honestly my favorite. Every geographic locale or situation calls for their inherent libation and vacationing on a cruise ship in the Caribbean is no different. This is the quintessential. Easy:
2oz Don Q Rum
1½oz Coconut Cream
3oz Dole Pineapple Juice
1½ cup Crushed Ice
Hell, I’ll even allow an audible on this one. Have fun with it by using coconut flavored rum. I prefer Bacardi or Margaritaville. Blend till smooth and pour in a clear Hurricane glass. Why clear? Well, let’s talk about the garnish. I have always done my recipes for the home bartender, so again, there’s no need of garnish for garnish’s sake. But in accordance with the boat drink vibe, why not? They seem to be the epitome of corny drink garnish, but after all it’s a Piña Colada, so the bright red maraschino cherries work great for this. Not to mention the red cherry syrup adds some color to the drink.
There you have it folks. Straight from the imbiber’s mouth. From my lips to the tiki god’s ears. The Piña Colada may have ushered in the age of the boat drink but holds a place as the last great invention of caribbean cocktails. A classic drink simple in both ancestry and flavor. I mean, who doesn’t like the God given flavor symphony of pineapple and coconut? With candies, and vapes, and a slew of products modeled after it the Piña Colada holds a place in our history alongside such greats as the margarita as one of the most duplicated flavors in the terroir of tropical tippling. It’s Piña, it’s Colada. It’s vacation in a glass!
Sources for this heavily relied on Jeff berry’s Potions of the Caribbean, Don Q’s website and social medias, as well as articles from Imbibe, Difford’s Guide and Liquor.com, respectively.