Do You Like Piña Coladas? Of Course You Do.
3 ways to make the decadent rum-and-coconut beach drink. Plus! Piña Colada science.
Happy birthday, America! You’ve been good to me, personally, and you’re the country where cocktails as we know them were invented.
To celebrate, let’s make a decadent, delicious, unapologetically silly warm-weather cocktail — the Piña Colada. But let’s make it the right way. Because a good Piña Colada is a great cocktail. And a great cocktail — even, and perhaps especially, a silly one — is an excellent way to celebrate this great country.
I had really planned to open this newsletter with the line: I made many Piña Coladas so that you don’t have to. While researching this newsletter, I made close to a dozen versions of the drink, intending to settle on a single, definitive recipe: The very best Piña Colada.
But the thing is, most of the recipes I made were at least pretty good. And adjusting the ingredients and proportions turned out to be a fascinating exercise in fine-tuning cocktail balance.
So instead of a one-and-done recipe, what I want to do this week is outline a general theory of the Piña Colada and ways to make it and fine-tune it yourself. We’re going to deconstruct the Piña Colada, and look at how to rebuild it from the ground up.
First, we’ll go over the drink’s history and how it informs the recipe.
Then we’ll look at the core ingredients for a minimalist version and common additions to the template.
As we add ingredients, we’ll look at how to make three different versions of the drink — a minimalist, a middle ground, and a maximalist rendition, each of which represents a different way to think about the cocktail.
As it turns out, I made many Piña Coladas — so that you can also make many Piña Coladas.
Okay, yes, I know I know. Some of you are, in fact, looking for a simple, singular answer. If so, just scroll down the final recipe, The Maximalist Colada. It’s my personal favorite way to make the drink, and it represents the culmination of my experiments.
But you’ve got a long, hot summer weekend ahead of you, so if you find yourself tempted to make a second Piña Colada — or, for that matter, a third — try making it a different way, just to see how different ingredients and proportions can alter the drink. You might find that you have a clear preference. But you also might find that, like me, you just enjoy tinkering with the format. It’s time to become the Piña Colada mad scientist you’ve always wanted to be.
Team Coco
The Piña Colada emerged in Puerto Rico sometime around 1960, perhaps a little before. A simple combination of rum, coconut, and pineapple, it wasn’t the first time the trio of ingredients had been combined: A similar drink from Cuba predated the Piña Colada by several decades, though that version wasn’t always alcoholic.
But as Wayne Curtis writes in the Oxford Companion to Cocktails and Spirits, the Piña Colada as we know emerged in the years following the introduction of Coco Lopez, a canned coconut creme that was created with funding from an economic development program — mostly tax and labor incentives — called Operation Bootstrap.
Coco Lopez, according to one source, “was an attempt to industrialize a traditional handmade ingredient,” so that hotel and restaurant kitchens could use it without having to whip up batches on their own.
This industrialized approach to ingredients was endemic to the era, which gave us cheap, tacky sour mix and other shelf-stable bottled mixers that helped turn the 1970s into a sort of Cocktail Dark Ages. It’s not surprising that the Piña Colada boomed in popularity during that decade.
But unlike sour mix, Coco Lopez is actually quite tasty. It makes a great Piña Colada.
Although it’s possible to make a Piña Colada with some other brand of coconut cream, or even a homemade version (or a quasi-version like coconut syrup), a large percentage of reputable Piña Colada recipes call for Coco Lopez specifically: It’s the drink’s signature ingredient.
So that’s where we’ll start: If you’re going to make a Piña Colada, you should make it with Coco Lopez.
The Core Trio
Beyond the Coco Lopez, there are two other necessary ingredients in a Piña Colada: rum and pineapple. This is the core trio, the foundation on which the cocktail is built.
I say “pineapple” and not “pineapple juice,” because some recipes call for cubed pineapple chunks. You can go that direction if you want, but I strongly prefer pineapple juice, preferably fresh, because you should always try to juice your own pineapple juice. Fresh pineapple juice is delicious and easy to make!
However, in this case, I’ll give you a pass if you want to use store-bought pineapple juice, since the coconut element tends to mute the benefits of fresh pineapple — and since, in the spirit of transparency, I tested a bunch of these recipes with store-bought pineapple juice. (If you use store-bought pineapple juice, please make sure it is unsweetened, 100% juice.)
As for the rum, the most traditional option is a Puerto Rican light rum, something like Don Q, which is reasonably priced, widely available, and has made a big marketing push to be “the” Piña Colada rum.
To accent the light rum, I like to add just a little bit of salt or saline solution, brightening this already light and frothy cocktail. As with French fries and chicken, salt just makes a cocktail pop.
Combine those ingredients with ice in a blender, and you have our first version of the drink — a very minimalist, very traditional, and very, very tasty, recipe that leans heavily on rum and pineapple.
The Minimalist Colada
8-10 drops 20 percent saline* or a heavy pinch of salt
¾ ounce Coco Lopez (or comparable coconut cream)
3 ounces pineapple juice
1 ½ ounces light rum, such as Don Q silver
225-250 grams ice (or about 8 of the 1 ¼ inch Tovolo cubes)
INSTRUCTIONS
Combine all ingredients in a blender.
Blend until smooth.
Pour into a glass.
Drink through a straw. Garnish with something fun.
*20 percent saline: Combine 4 parts water with 1 part table salt, by volume, in a sauce pan. Heat on medium low. Do not let boil. Stir occasionally. When salt and water are fully integrated — no thick sludge at the bottom of the pan — bottle in an eye dropper. Shelf stable; lasts 6 months or more.
Salt aside, this is about as basic and no-frills as a Piña Colada gets. It’s not the most complex drink you’ll ever have, but it’s smooth and sweetly decadent without going overboard. It’s a very comfy summer drink.
Even though this is not my favorite version, it’s a Piña Colada I’m more than happy to consume, and the ease of production makes up for some of the lack of complexity.
You Will Find Me, Lime After Lime
If you’re looking for something a little more contemporary, but not too elaborate, consider making two adjustments.
The first is to add lime juice. This enhances and sharpens the acidity of the drink, giving it just a bit of that familiar tropical zip. Most modern recipes include a bit of lime juice — typically about a half ounce, though some recipes dial that portion up or down.
The second is to switch to a darker, bolder rum.
Light rums tend to make this drink brighter and less weighty. But you can nudge the drink into a richer and oakier direction by using a darker aged rum — something like El Dorado 8 or 12. I consider El Dorado 8 to be one of the essential rums for any home bar, especially if you’re trying to make tiki drinks without going the 100-bottle, rum hoarder route. I go back to El Dorado’s rums again and again because they are versatile, in the sense that they get along well with other ingredients, and because they are pleasingly rich, with an almost bourbon-like barrel-aged character.
With the addition of the lime and the change in the rum, you’ll have a sort of middle-ground version of this drink — not as basic as the minimalist, but not overly complicated or difficult to make.
The Middle Ground Colada
½ ounce fresh lime juice
1 ½ ounces pineapple juice
1 ½ ounces Coco Lopez
2 ounces aged rum, such as El Dorado 8 or 12
250-275 grams ice (or about 9 of the 1 ¼ inch Tovolo cubes)
INSTRUCTIONS
Combine all ingredients in a blender.
Blend until smooth.
Pour into a glass.
Drink through a straw. Garnish with something fun.
Rum the Jewels
If you want to go all out — and you should! For yourself! For America! On its birthday! — then have I got a Piña Colada recipe for you. This one is for the maniacs, the diehards, the Piña Colada dead-enders. If you really, really, really like Piña Coladas, this is your moment.
The first thing we’re going to do is use two different rums.
There is some room for personal experimentation and adjustment, depending on what rums you have on your bar cart. But the old tiki adage applies: What one rum can do, two rums can do better.
Tiki godfather Don the Beachcomber built his tropical drink legacy on multi-rum cocktails with complex, carefully layered sweet and spice elements. That same approach can elevate an otherwise ordinary Piña Colada.
For my part, I like to use a higher-proof rum like Smith & Cross, Worthy Park 109, or Plantation OFTD, combined with something rich and mellow, like El Dorado 8, Appleton Signature, Mount Gay Eclipse, or Rhum Barbancourt.1
I’ve tried a number of combos, and my favorite was Worthy Park 109 + Rhum Barbancourt 3 star/4 year. Don’t feel too obligated to stick with my recommendations here, but do try to use a mix of higher proof rum with something rich and easy drinking.
A high-proof/low-proof two-rum combo gives you a sort of Laurel and Hardy situation, with a straight man (the lower proof option) and a zany comic foil (the wilder, higher-proof option). The goal is to create a dramatic interplay between the two rums.
Beyond the ingredients we’ve already discussed, you’ll sometimes find two additional elements in contemporary Piña Coladas.
The first is coconut milk. This is different from the Coco Lopez/coconut cream; it’s thick, unsweetened, and well, milky. Coconut milk adds more body to the drink, bringing it perilously close to eggnog territory, and helps balance out the canned sweetness of the Coco Lopez.
The second is syrup — typically either a simple (1:1) syrup or a rich (2:1) demerara syrup. This is admittedly a little bit non-standard, but when Punch held a Pina Colada drink-off back in 2019, the winning recipe used a half ounce of rich demerara syrup, so I don’t feel like I’ve totally lost the plot here.
You might think the addition of syrup will make this drink too sweet. But if so, you’d be wrong.
Don’t be ashamed to add a bit of syrup to a drink like this! First of all, it’s a Piña Colada fercryinoutloud! It’s supposed to be a sweet drink!
Second, homemade syrups can help you precisely calibrate the sweetness level of a cocktail. And demerara syrup adds a hint of toasty flavor to the mix.
And then there’s a third and final addition: Angostura aromatic bitters. Angostura bitters accent the cocktail with an array of baking spice notes, giving it depth and complexity. A single heavy dash will work wonders without fundamentally altering the character of the drink.
Argue with me about this addition if you want. That’s not a real Piña Colada, my man! This is an afront to the dignity of a beloved drink!
Well, maybe it’s not a real Piña Colada. But it’s a damn fine cocktail, and if it’s not technically a Piña Colada, it’s what a Piña Colada should taste like.
The Maximalist Colada
1 dash Angostura Aromatic bitters
Scant ½ ounce rich (2:1) demerara syrup**
½ ounce fresh lime juice
1 ¼ ounce pineapple juice
1 ½ ounce Coco Lopez
½ ounce coconut milk
1 ounce high-proof rum, such as Worthy Park 109
1 ½ ounce rum or rhum, such as Rhum Barbancourt 3 star
270-300 grams ice (or 9-10 Tovolo cubes)
INSTRUCTIONS
Combine all ingredients in a blender.
Blend until smooth.
Pour into a glass.
Drink through a straw. Garnish with something fun.
**Rich 2:1 demerara syrup: In a blender, combine 2 parts demerara sugar with 1 part water, by weight, so for example 400 grams sugar and 200 grams water. Blend on high for 2-3 minutes, until fully integrated. Bottle and store in the fridge. Keeps a month or more.
A Lotta Colada
Now that you have seen all three versions, you should be able start your own Piña Colada science lab.
Take the minimalist three ingredient foundation, and remix the proportions — with, say, more Coco Lopez or more rum for a stronger drink. Add an ingredient, like coconut milk, for a thicker, drier drink. Or try a two-rum blend for something a little more intriguing.
Or take the maximalist recipe and play around with the proportions. Use more lime for more acidity. Or use more pineapple for a drink that is juicier, and a little sweeter. Try rebalancing the coconut/pineapple/syrup proportions — with so many ingredients, you’ll find it’s like playing with one of those vast mixing boards in a fancy recording studio, allowing you to take a favorite song and nudge the various individual instrument tracks up and down in the mix.
To some extent, I just want you to experiment for the sheer fun of it.
But even more than that, I want to encourage you to think of this as an exercise in building the sort of drink you imagine in your head.
Take a sip of a Piña Colada — any of the recipes will do. Think about the flavors, pull them apart, let your brain grasp the way the ingredients interact.
Then hold that flavor chord in your head: What do you want more of? Less of? What’s it missing? What does it have too much of? Is the flavor arc — the journey — satisfying? Is the texture right?
You should be able to start to remix the drink in your head, turning the ingredient dials up and down on your mental mixing board, adding and subtracting ingredients in the imaginary version of the drink. And then your goal should be to make the thing in your head real in the glass.
At worst, you’ll have a merely decent, perfectly fine Piña Colada. At best, you will have brought your imagination into reality, and you will thus have your own, personalized, idealized version of the drink that you can make over and over again for yourself and your friends. It’s hard to think of a better way to celebrate America’s birthday.
The Big Gal Loves the Summer Sun
My usual disclaimer about rum swaps and suggestions: These are not substitutes in the sense that they taste the same. Instead, they are substitutes in the sense that they can play the same role.
The STEM editor in me (which I was once upon a time) find the mix of English and metric units in your recipes disturbing. Not enough not to make them, but disturbing nonetheless.
And why no Cynar?
Ah. Trip next weekend. I should trade two Sazeracs for a Pima Colada and a Mai Tai.