Left to our own devices for a day in Old Havana my wife and I ambled about calle Mercaderes looking for the cigar shop and cafe. It was pointed out to us in passing by our guide a few days earlier. Now, relying solely on hazy recollection, I studied each open facade searching for the lobby I would surely recognize when I saw it. You can tell this was before we were married as my wife didn’t say a word about me using instinct as a compass.
But alas, we came upon Conde de Villanueva. Making our way through the lobby and around the front desk we entered the large open atrium area common in Colonial Spanish architecture. Sunlight poured in from above dripping off lazy palm fronds and illuminating the pallid yellow walls in noonday glow. We followed a green iron staircase up to a thin mezzanine along which the wall was lined with framed photos of famous cigar smokers, presumably who had also found this little respite from the hot Cuban day.
The quaint shop was a direct contrast to the frondescent atrium. Wooden walls lined with cigar cases and some leather lounge chairs. It was the first time I had seen lighting a cigar with a cedar stick. One lights a strip of cedar and then uses the cedar to light the cigar. Supposedly, this eliminates the chemicals from using a lighter and adds a natural flavor to a cigar. Being the confident gentleman I am, I proceeded clumsily attempting to light my wife’s cigar. Yeah, as one might expect, using a large, dancing flame which does not want to cooperate in the slightest and is rapidly climbing towards your fingers on the burning piece of timber you’re holding is not as easy as it sounds. To my credit, it doesn’t even sound easy.
So, after the hardened older Cuban man came out from behind the counter, sauntered over to my wife’s chair with the suave debonair of a seasoned caballero, shook his head at me, and handily lit my wife’s Cohiba, we made our way to the bar. Off to the side of the cigar lounge was a very small, dimly lit room with a small bar along one wall. After some time a fellow joined us. He wore the stereotypical Cuban military hat. The kind we see in the pictures of Castro, a military style jacket and otherwise regular clothes. We eventually struck up conversation, both speaking enough of the other’s language to suffice. The topic came up of how happy I was to visit Cuba as growing up in the 80’s we never thought we’d see Havana. Gradually catching a midday happy buzz I went into my rhetoric on how normal people are basically the same everywhere and the governments argue while the people just want to live and raise their families and drink some cervezas with friends and … Then I saw the look from my wife. The one that lets me know it’s time to stop talking.
Knowing when to play the kind-hearted oblivious outsider has served me well over the years and my wife’s ability to squint her mind’s eye and see through bullshit is well documented. So, we tapered the conversation off and he eventually moved on from us gringos. I don’t know if there was anything to that encounter. I never felt unsafe. Was he checking to see what the Americans were doing alone in Havana? Did the two gentlemen in the cigar lounge notice a couple of Americans drinking and carrying on and decide to call us in? Nothing ever came of it and we spent a few hours there smoking and sipping. It was one of my fondest memories of that trip. They comped our bar tab after I purchased 3 boxes of cigars. Rum is so cheap there one gets the impression they’re trying to give it away.
I was drinking Cristal, Havana’s light beer. My wife, on the other hand, was embodying our free day in Habana Vieja with a steady stream of Cuba Libres.
^^^
We think we grow out of cola as a mixer. Don’t we? But Rum & Coke is not only what a majority of us start our drinking careers with, it’s the occasional drinker’s go-to when they don’t know what to order. When I met my friend Kyle, the one for whom the Ki-Tai is named, his out-at-a-bar drink was Rum & Coke. It seems vapid, banal, lazy even. But so ingrained is cola as an American beverage we could hardly speak of cocktailia without acknowledging its role in our journey. The road to modern drinking is paved by rum & Coke. Yet, it’s constantly looked down upon. For proof, I just spent a whole paragraph endeavoring to convince you it shouldn't be.
I take great pains to stay true to the authenticity of the drinks we cover without crossing the hipster rubicon. Bitters and fresh juices, though they can transform a so-so drink into a work of flavor art, are not always necessary to make a traditional drink or a good one for that matter. In fact, I think some of these “my versions” and “new spins” some of ya’ll like to use sort of take away from a traditional cocktail. Yet, this is cognitive dissonance on my part, because at the heart of tiki is creativity. My point of view resides in a weird place between authenticity and invention. Must be the gemini in me.
Anyway, let’s take a look back at this classic portmanteau.
Whereas Tiki culture is predicated on exploring and bringing exotica home, sometimes it works in reverse. Sometimes a piece of Americana is too pervasive for sea-to-shining-sea, so it hitches a ride across one. Such is the case of the Cuba Libre. You see, during World War 2 Coca-Cola actually set up small operations on U.S. military bases in an attempt to bring the boys a literal taste of home. But, how did Coke become such an integral part of the American fabric in the first place?
After being wounded in the Civil War Colonel John Pemberton found himself a bit of a liking for ol’ morphine. There wasn’t exactly a lavish Malibu rehab to send him off to. Mainly because California had only become a state less than two decades prior and apparently the rehabs came a few months later. Luckily Pemberton was also a doctor. Which in those days I think meant he was the only guy with a hacksaw and bottle of laudanum so everyone was like, “well, I guess he’s the doctor now!” Pemberton did eventually find his magic cure for addiction by mixing coca leaves with kola nuts. They didn’t really have a handle on addiction back then. He sold this elixer out of his Atlanta based Pemberton’s Eagle Drug and Chemical House.
When Atlanta passed its own early prohibition laws in 1886 Pemberton’s cola empire really began to bubble up and he officially registered “Coca-Cola: The Temperance Dink.” I don’t need to point out the irony in that. This early concoction was marketed to cure all sorts of ailments ranging from morphine addiction and headaches to even impotence. Yeah, no shit. It was cocaine and caffeine!
After a litany of corporate shuffling I won’t bore you with the Coca-Cola Company was formed in 1892 just as the rise of soda fountains was becoming synonymous with early Americana.
Active coca leaf was removed from the recipe in 1903 and during prohibition we really see Coke getting a huge boost as not only a non-alcoholic beverage, but being used to cover up the acrid tastes of bootleg booze. The ink had hardly dried on repeal by the time the greatest generation was called upon to fight the evil forces of the axis powers. As American G.I.’s cemented Coke’s foothold on the globe those stationed in the South Pacific and Caribbean had cemented a love of their own: rum. But some say rum & coke has origins even before this.
Coca-Cola’s diaspora of world domination had already begun by the turn of the 20th century. Coke branding could be spotted in the most remote areas of the world. The fizzy beverage was our first gift to the world before John Wayne, apple pie, and entitlement. But we’re not here to talk about corporate domination. We’re here to talk about rum drinks.
The term Cuba Libre, or “Free Cuba”, was first purported to be used in the mid-1800’s in regards to Cuba's fight for independence from Spain. The drink then associated would have been a mix of rum with honey or molasses, and water. The battle cry surfaced again during the Spanish-American war when an Army camp in Jacksonville, FL was dubbed, “Camp Cuba Libre”. There’s an apocryphal origin story where an American Army Captain stationed in Havana after the war squeezed a lime into a rum & Bacardi and toasted “por Cuba libre!”. Sounds to me like Bacardi may have had a hand in proliferating that tale. Especially since that was purported to happen in 1900 and Coke didn’t start exporting it’s syrup to Havana till 1902.
The more probable narrative is that rum & coke grew naturally in popularity as drinking tourism spread throughout the Caribbean. Likely due to American palates changing post prohibition. Drinkers had gotten used to more mixer than spirit, due to a decade of hiding the flavor of bootleg whiskey. No doubt some poor working class sob down in Havana was doing the same thing to mask cheap rum.
After the war American business flooded into Cuba as part of that whole move to secure political power on the island. Coca-Cola of course being a natural fit as U.S. travelers began our legacy of not wanting to go anywhere we can’t get exactly what we have back home. Some adventurers.
The mixture of rum and Coke did have a demonstrative rise in popularity during that sweet spot between post WW2 - pre Fidel. One such boost came in the form of the man who brought the pencil thin mustache to the islands before Buffett was even building sand castles. Mr. Errol Flynn. It’s true some of his transgressions would surely get him cancelled today, and for good reason, but there's no denying the epic role he played as one of Hollywood’s OG Caribbean cavorters. His rapacious reputation for imbibing made him a legend in Havana second only to Papa Hemingway himself. Sloppy Joe’s even created an eponymous cocktail for Errol that I’m sure we’ll cover at some point. But Mr. Flynn so loved the Cuba Libre such that the two became synonymous. When he wasn’t cutting a striking figure on the big screen Errol Flynn was cutting his rum with coca-cola in Havana. Unfortunately the accusations of him using this drink to seduce under-age actresses left a stain on his legacy that would take more than a little club soda to get out. While Errol’s amoral antics made their way through the Caribbean party crowd another boozy boon came in a bit more wholesome manner by way of the Andrew Sisters.
Written by Lionel Belasco and originally recorded by calypso legend Lord Invader the song Rum & Coca-Cola was a rhythmic ode to our tipple of topic and the American expats who drank it. But when the Andrews Sisters released their version in 1945? Well, let’s just say we found out what made the bugle boy boogie. The hit song transformed the drink from a way to mask cheap rum into an amalgamation of Cuban-American standard drinking. Remember when PBR was a dollar fifty skunk beer, then Zac Brown mentioned it in a song and all of a sudden every bar in town started charging five bucks a can? It was like that. All it took then was for Bacardi to seize the opportunity claiming the drink as their own and finally the Cuba Libre was mainstream.
Even back then it was looked down upon despite its popularity. Proud Cuban cantineros wouldn’t dare hold this tourist drink up alongside Mojitos, Daiquiris, or the Hotel Nacional cocktail. Decades later, even the Pina Colada would find greater favor as an island invention. But given how deeply rum & coke is ingratiate in not only cocktalia, but Americana, I contend the Cuba Libre is truly a creation in which the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
With that being said, let’s make a drink!
^^^
At first glance it would appear the addition of lime is the only distinction between a Cuba Libre and a regular old rum & coke, but the devil is in the details. In this case, preparation. How do most of us make a rum & coke? We eyeball a few ounces of rum into a tall glass, fill it with ice and top it off with cola. Of course, if you dump a bunch of syrupy soda into any booze it’s going to taste good. And although Errol Flynn’s recipe of one small bottle of Coke to one pint of Bacardi may do the trick for getting you there, there is not always a place you want to be. Especially in Errol’s case. But before we jump into recipes let’s go over ingredients.
Rum. Of course the most traditional spirit would be an aged light Cuban rum like Havana Club 3 Años. As of right now it’s a little difficult to get that into the States, so I have a few alternatives. We want to go with a full flavor light rum. Though I don’t generally mind the flavor of Bacardi, it’s still a great rum, we want something rich enough to cut through the heavy notes of cola and sugar. As there aren’t many aged light rums on the American market I lean towards blends like Probitas from Foursquare, Plantation 3 Star, or El Dorado light Demerara, which I believe is actually aged 3 years. Denizen white is also a new fav in the Pod Tiki household. For this one it truly does depend on which one you personally enjoy the taste of.
I’m not gonna sit here and tell you I don’t like a dark rum & coke. Jamaica rum is great and a spiced Captain and Coke is wonderful around the holidays, but that’s a different drink. So, stick with light rum for Cuba Libres.
As for the cola, regular Coke tends to be overly sugar syrupy with the high fructose and all that so I go for the Mexican Coke in the glass bottle. It still uses real sugar and, let’s be honest, the classic bottle looks cool. If you can’t find it at the grocery store any Mexican market should carry it.
And, of course, some fresh limes.
As aforementioned preparation is key between a rum & coke and a Cuba Libre. So, here we go:
2 oz Light Rum
½ oz Lime Juice
4 oz Coca-Cola
Ice
True to the Sloppy Joe’s procedure, first shake the rum and lime juice in a shaker with ice, strain into a tall glass, (a pilsner glass works best), then stir in the Coca-Cola and top off with ice. This ensures a well balanced drink. Garnish with a lime wedge and wallah! There you have a true Cuba Libre.
Notice the small amount of cola pushes the rum forward rather than cover it up. Some cantineros and mixologists alike have begun adding Angostura to their Cuban cocktails. With cola I find it gives the drink a tannic rusty flavor. For my cigar geeks out there, I smoked a Viva La Vida Robusto with this and it was great.
Finding out the links and stories that contribute to the lore of these drinks is really a bonus of Pod Tiki I was not expecting when I started. In that regard no other drink really connects so many facets of tropiki than the Cuba Libre. From Americana, Prohibition, to post-war expats, through the golden age of Cuban-American tourism, Jimmy Buffett singing about Errol Flynn’s pencil thin mustache, to 1940’s pop song anthems, from frat parties to Caribbean beaches, as long as bartenders have Coke in their guns and Bacardi on the shelf, as long as hipsters, historians, and enthusiasts like us endeavor to honor and build upon the past, and as long as people want a simple classic drink to raise a glass and toast their victories, whether it’s revolution or just making it to Friday, there will always be the Cuba Libre!
Credits: Imbibe.com article by Paul Clarke, Liquor.com article by Amy Zavatto, Wikipedia, Potions of the Caribbean by Jeff Berry, Makemeacocktail.com article by Suzanna H.
