Forget the frosty neon versions from spring breaks past; it’s the original daiquiri that truly delights
Bostonians have, over the past several years, grown accustomed to schizophrenic weather. We’re hit with random snowstorms in April; heat waves in October; the odd two-and-a-half-minute half-frozen rainfall that launches a sneak attack, ninja-style, while we’re walking to the T with nary an umbrella or doorway in sight. We get fleeting tastes of summer weather — a few delicious moments of bright skies, of warm breezes that start to envelop our shoulders — only to be yanked away after a pause.
Summer is a cocktease.
Still, those moments of quick sunshine are enough to make me snap out of my winter doldrums. Every time the sun flirts with me, even just to fuck with me like a knowing teenager, I am reminded of my favorite warm-weather pastime.
Drinking, of course, What did you expect?
And my favorite summer drink? The daiquiri. No, no, an emphatic NO, not the syrupy, whipped-cream-smothered frozen kind, that puddle of strawberries and cheap liquor frantically slapped together in a gigantic machine that produces hohum concoctions of convenience-store consistency.
No, my drink is the original daiquiri, a classic marriage of rum and lime, so satisfyingly crisp and cool that one sip will ruin you for all the other “daiquiris” you’ve wasted your taste buds on. Sorry, sorority girls and cabana boys: no banana, strawberry, whipped cream, plastic cups, or paper umbrellas to be found anywhere near this strong, tart treat. Those congealed monstrosities are best left to Myrtle Beach cougars and spring breakers who, bless their hearts, just don’t know any better. For a real warm-weather cocktail, the daiquiri is where it’s at.
The origins of the daiquiri are debatable, but it’s generally believed that the drink was invented in Cuba in the early 1900s. (There’s a beach in Santiago called Daiquiri; legend has it that the drink was first created nearby.) Originally a combination of light rum, sugar, and lemon, somewhere along the way the lemon was swapped for lime, which has remained a key ingredient ever since. The drink was made famous with a little help from my own literary role model and favorite boozehound, Ernest Hemingway, who used to consume daiquiris in quick succession at his home away from home, El Floridita, in Havana.
No need to travel for a taste of Cuba, though. Plenty of Boston hangs can make the classic drink — some even put their own twist on it. But be warned: if the daiquiri isn’t described on a drink list, ask about it when you order. I had a close call with a bartender who went off in search of a blender and whipped cream before I could stop him. I shudder to envision what I might have been presented with had I not flagged him down.
For a true daiquiri experience, nibbling on Cuban food alongside your cocktail is a must. Slip into Chez Henri (1 Shepard Street, Cambridge, 617.354.8980) for a truly flavorful experience. Here, the Original Daiquiri ($8) is a perfect balance of sweet and sour, with fresh lime juice and sugar adding some kick to Cruzan light rum. Order up some homemade chorizo ($6.95) as an accompaniment; it’s a spicier version of bangers ’n’ mash, with the sausage nestled in a sea of buttery mashed potatoes and sprinkled with scallions.
Another traditional daiquiri ($9) can be found at the B-Side Lounge (92 Hampshire Street, Cambridge, 617.354.0766). Belly up to the bar for another smooth swallow of light rum, sugar, and lime. I don’t suggest pairing it with the free hardboiled eggs (one of the many beloved reasons to visit this hipster hang); instead, sip slowly and take in the ruckus around you. When I ordered a daiquiri here, the bartender raised his eyebrows in surprise, then made sure that I wasn’t looking for one of the aforementioned frozen concoctions. Nope, just the classic, please. Just like that, I earned his respect. My daiquiri, a little bit sweeter than the Chez Henri version, appeared instantly, shaken and poured right before me at the bar. Delightful.
Eastern Standard (528 Comm Ave, Boston, 617.532.9100) makes frequent appearances on my cocktail radar; they’re leading the small pack of local eateries and lounges that truly care about the quality and innovation of what they mix and actually want to make a name for themselves not just as bars but as cocktail institutions. Here, the Hemingway Daiquiri ($10) is a tribute to the way the author is said to have enjoyed his daiquiris. White rum blushes pink with maraschino liqueur and lime juice, then is poured over a mound of shaved ice, making for a very grownup snow cone. I can’t imagine a better drink on a steamy summer night. The cocktail is alternately known as La Floridita, but any of the super-savvy bar staff here will know exactly what you’re talking about.
Even one of the new kids in town is getting into the daiquiri spirit. Lobby (131 Broad Street, Boston, 617.261.5353) serves their own modern version of the daiquiri. Simply called Lobby’s Daiquiri ($10), the drink features Bacardi light rum, grapefruit juice, and sage syrup. It’s an intriguing combo for an equally intriguing bar, one of the latest additions to the Financial District. This daiquiri pairs excellently with food; yet another reason to avoid treading down the frozen-daiquiri path ever again. Can you imagine drinking one of those along with your pricy steak?
So leave the neon booze smoothies behind once and for all. It’s time you associated the word “daiquiri” not with beaches and hookups but with literature and culture, flavor and class. It’s a worthwhile swap.
