“If you didn’t have a spritz every day at 3 p.m., did you even go to Italy?” muses Molly*, a 33-year-old journalist from Philadelphia. On her 12-day honeymoon through six Italian cities, she ordered a steady supply of prosecco-based cocktails, even if she thought they made her basic. When in Rome, right?
Elle, 31, likes to taste local spirits when she travels as a way of feeling more connected to a place. When the content producer visited the Dominican Republic from New York last year, she was intrigued by mamajuana, a rum-wine mix known as an aphrodisiac. She liked hearing locals talk about it with pride. “You remember drinks because they come with a story, a feeling, and a sense of place,” she says.
Drinking based on one’s destination is hardly a new concept. While it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly when drink tours grew in popularity, the concept of imbibing one’s way through a destination has been gaining steady ground since the ’90s, when chauffeured winery-hopping became an option in the U.S., though some breweries only saw numbers spike in the last decade. To this day, many travelers continue to incorporate local distilleries into their itineraries or, at least, try homegrown spirits. Javier, 40, a journalist from Madrid, says he’ll try native anything — “even if it’s bathtub gin.”
In comparison, my own travels were rather boring. I leave places without getting any sense of their local drinking habits, merely sticking to my fail-safe martini. And before my algorithm even spews nightlife content from the places I’ve visited, I’m already back home, regretting the gaps in my research. A seven-day trip to Madrid last year ended without tasting a drop of sangria, Kalimotxo, or Rioja.
I couldn’t keep returning home thinking, “I’ll do [insert city/country here] right next time.” I was committed to a travel overhaul. And embracing the ethos of drinking straight from the source? That seemed like a low-lift way to start. My four-day trip to Puerto Rico with Bacardí was just the occasion, beginning with the island’s official drink, the piña colada.
Start With The Classics
Obviously, Puerto Rico has plenty of draws: the dreamy beaches, the savory food, the chance of breathing the same air as Bad Bunny, etc. But my itinerary was strictly F&B — emphasis on the B. I went directly to the source: For piña coladas, I went to Caribe Hilton, aka the drink’s fabled birthplace, according to some. Ramón “Monchito” Marrero was a bartender at the hotel when he whipped up the drink sometime between 1952 and 1954 (the exact date is disputed). The sometimes-stirred, sometimes-shaken cocktail, which translates to “strained pineapple,” is made with rum, pineapple juice, heavy cream, and cream of coconut, and grew to such ubiquity that it became Puerto Rico’s official drink in 1978.
By no means am I a regular drinker. I don’t like pineapple juice and am low-key allergic to the fruit. But, after my first sip, I understood why Rupert Holmes wrote a song about the tropical cocktail. It tasted like vacation topped with a maraschino cherry. One sip and all the leftover anxiety I had over unread emails and pending tasks magically evaporated from my body. It set a relaxing tone for the entire vacation. After all, there’s nothing like sipping a cocktail with a view of the ocean.
Head To A Local Distillery
The following morning, my travel buddies and I headed to the town of Cataño, a 35-minute drive from San Juan, to visit Casa Bacardi and learn about how rum is at the center of Puerto Rican dining. Before the distillery tour even began, we were already being handed a shaken (not blended) piña colada — at 10:30 a.m.
Rummed up, we toured the massive property and learned that though Don Facundo Bacardí began the namesake company in Cuba in 1862, the family moved to Puerto Rico in the 1930s due to their home country’s political unrest. Today, the “cathedral of rum,” as it’s known, is the largest rum distillery globally. It tracks. Puerto Rico is the rum capital of the world, after all, and produces over 80% of the U.S.’s supply alone.
After the tour, we took an on-site mixology class, where we learned to make two refreshing beverages, a mojito and a pineapple daiquiri. Did I feel like a Martha Stewart-in-the-making? Absolutely. But more importantly, I felt like I was getting a feel of the place. As someone who loves to host, I was excited to bring a taste of my trip back home to my friends.
Hit Up The Nightlife Scene
Later that day, armed with a newfound love of the versatile spirit, I was determined to try as many rum-based cocktails as I could while exploring the nightlife in La Placita, a pocket of San Juan that’s all bars and clubs, and one of Bad Bunny’s favorite places for a night out. First up, we went to Jungle Bird, a tiki bar that serves good food and even better cocktails. I tried both its rum-based namesake signature drink and a piña colada. I also had a shot of pitorro, the local “moonshine rum.” It was strong, but it went down smoothly.
After walking around the neighborhood and taking pics in front of the Bad Bunny mural, we moved to the city’s most popular club, La Factoria. It features seven different interconnected rooms, including a cozy wine bar and live music. It’s where Luis Fonzi’s “Despicato” was filmed. As a hydration girlie, I had a “rum and coconut water,” a combination I’d never heard of.
The following day, we continued exploring the city by way of a food and drink tour, where we hit up four different restaurants. Three stops featured rum-based cocktails, including a mojito, a piña colada, and a Don Ignacio, a dessert rum drink garnished with a chocolate stirrer.
Later that night, for our last dinner on the island, we headed to Bacoa, a gorgeous restaurant right by the rainforest. Again, I ordered a piña colada and was served a giant glass with the pineapple-coconut blend. I’ve lost track of how many I had on this trip, but seven seems like a decent guess. Apparently, when I’m on vacation, my drinking habits take PTO too.
When I inevitably post an Instagram photo dump with the caption “I left my heart in San Juan,” know that it’s predominantly due to the fact that drinking my way through the city anchored me in the place’s history all with the fringe benefits of a hella tasty, good time.
I make piña coladas at home now from the recipe proudly displayed on a wall at Caribe Hilton. And without fail, it takes me back to Puerto Rico every time.
*Name has been changed.
