This is part 1 of a 2 part series on how to drink in Cuba. We made the mistake of going to Varadero – and this was written during that time. Part 2 is substantially more upbeat.
After becoming regular fixtures at Smuggler’s Cove, we decided we were rum people. So, when it came time to choose our winter vacation, we imagined the newly accessible Cuba would be a fine destination. Think about it: Never-been-tried Cuban rums! All the Havana Club that we could inhale! And per TripAdvisor listings, there were even rum museums! Let’s go, we exclaimed. Let’s go and drink Hemingway Daquiris at all of Ernest Hemingway’s old haunts, wearing fedoras and smoking a fat Cuban cigar.
Everyone else had the same idea!
Off we went, with the assurance from a close friend that it was one of his favorite countries and the Cuban people are nothing if not the nicest people in the world.
And here we sit. Bored out of our minds. In limbo, in purgatory, in a fucking all-inclusive Varadero resort counting the minutes, even the seconds, until we can return to the United States and access some sweet, sweet internet.
If you’re a cocktail aficionado, don’t come to Cuba. Want carefully measured pours for a perfectly balanced and complex drink? The poor bastard of a bartender seemed honestly perplexed when I asked if he had a jigger. The recipes here follow a simple formula: sugar dumped as lazily and unceremoniously into a cup as possible, some suspect ice cast into it, with whatever random alcohols can be thrown in. In the case of the “Manhattan,” it was some turned vinegar-vermouth and some “Old Choice” whiskey poured in until it reached the brim.
You can also stick to the mint mojitos, pina coladas, and daquiris – but what you’re going to end up with is a sugary sweet slushy lovechild of Las Vegas and 711 stores. And the famous “rum museum” of Varadero? It’s a tiny store where they pour you liberal tastings of their cheapest rums and liqueurs (anise, banana, etc).
To drive the boredom out of our minds by killing as many brain cells as possible, we contented ourselves by lurking at the poolside bar of the all-inclusive in an attempt to taste every “whiskey” they had (fortunately, they only had four).
Behold, our tasting notes:
- Old Choice: Lightly peated. Mildly jarring. Malty aftertaste. Peppery and melony. Not horrible.
- Walther Scott: Awful, awful, awful. Peppermint with sugar. Added sugar. Is it a rum? Is it whiskey? We weren’t sure – but it tasted like a cheap aged rum with menthol shoved in
- Clan Campbell: Tastes like college. Caramel rubbing alcohol.
- Crowley’s: The most potable of the bunch. Smooth. Slightly sweet and mostly flavorless and inoffensive.
Today we will return to Havana, where hopefully our fortunes will turn to better times. More to come in Part 2!