Thirsty Thursday Eve - Coquito
To celebrate Thursday Thursday Eve falling on Christmas Day, I wanted to feature a drink that really felt like Christmas in a cup. After some digging, I found the Coquito.
A lot of times, when people think of Christmas, they picture that Hallmark movie set with snow everywhere and people bundled up. Problem is, this is South Carolina. Most years, Christmas is sunny with a high of 65. It ain’t cold. It ain’t even really cool. I usually end up wearing shorts and a t-shirt and it’s comfortable.
If we lived somewhere cold, spiced buttered rum would be perfect. Instead, I wanted something cold, ideally something I could share with my cousins while we fry the turkey out back. That normally looks like a bottle of some whiskey that we stick in the back of my truck and mix with whatever soda is available. Surely I could find something a little more celebratory.
I skimmed through a few lists of Christmas cocktail ideas, but none of them really seemed to fit what I wanted. Either they had a laundry list of ingredients that I didn’t have on hand, or they took more effort than I wanted to invest. A lot of them felt like what you would expect of an upper middle class Christmas party where nobody has kids and everyone wants to look more wealthy than they actually are. That ain’t me.
Eventually, I found a recipe for Coquito. It was a batch recipe and served “at least 16,” per the recipe. Great, that’s enough to share! Reading over the recipe, it seemed simple enough. A couple of dairy products, some spices, and a bottle of rum. Simmer it, decant it into sealable bottles (mason jars in my case), and toss a cinnamon stick in each.
I added the ingredients to my next grocery pickup. Technically, the recipe calls for Puerto Rican rum, but y’all know I’m a huge fan of Costco’s spiced rum. The label claims it is “made with rum distilled in Puerto Rico,” and that’s close enough in my opinion. I didn’t need another excuse to pick up another bottle, although I had to do math to cut the handle size down to the recommended 750 ml from the recipe. In freedom units, that’s just over 3 cups. Whatever will I do with the remaining liter of spiced rum?
When picking up ingredients, I went with the store brand for mostly everything. However, I had to get actual Carnation brand evaporated milk. One of my favorite poems directly references Carnation milk, and I would be remiss to ignore the opportunity to mention it. Even if I didn’t drink any directly from the can, it went into the mix and that’s enough to reference the poem.
From what I could gather, nobody knows exactly when that rhyme came about. It dates back to at least 1963, but it seems to have been pretty well known even then (Ogilvy, 1963). No matter who created it, I feel it serves as a great testament to a pragmatic life. When you can appreciate the convenience and ease of canned milk, and compose a verse to the value it has brought to your life, you know what’s important. Here’s to the Carnation milk drinkers of the world.
In any case, I got the ingredients and started following the recipe. The steps were pretty simple; basically, throw everything in a pot and mix until combined. Alcohol goes in at the end, because we don’t want to cook it down. I used a dutch oven for heat retention and volume, but I figured there wasn’t much room to mess up.
As I was waiting for the mixture to come to a boil, I continued stirring. I would stir a little bit, watch for a while, and bump the temperature up just a hair. We were looking at the suggestion of a boil, so I stirred and increased the heat a little. After several cycles, the contents went from the theory of a boil to outright boiling over. I panicked and pulled the dutch oven off the hot eye, but the damage was done. It bubbled up and over the side and left a mess of hot, sticky, sweet slurry all over the glass cooktop. The mixture simmered down after I pulled it off the heat, but the mess was a huge pain to clean up.
With the base prepared, I let it cool and mixed in the rum. I prepared mason jars with a cinnamon stick in each and ladled in coquito a bit at a time until the jars were full. I capped each and stashed them in the fridge. I wasn’t sure if the ingredients and effort would produce anything worthwhile, but I scooped a small serving into a glass to try it out.
Mixing in some ice to cool it down and simulate the actual serving suggestion, my wife and I gave it a try. All in all, I was impressed. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, and the combination of ingredients seemed like a shot in the dark rather than a properly planned drink mix.
The experience of drinking coquito is…. Interesting. First thing you’ll notice is how thick it is. And I mean it is thicc. You can definitely tell that sweetened condensed milk was used in it, just from the consistency. It also isn’t completely uniform. I wouldn’t necessarily call it lumpy, but there are pieces where the spices collected together. It isn’t bad, but I think running an immersion blender in it before transferring to jars would have helped smooth it out. This is helped tremendously by pouring over ice and letting it melt a bit, so don’t let that description turn you away from trying the drink entirely.
The flavor is absolutely like Christmas in a cup. It’s sweet and decadent, the way Christmas always has all manner of treats sitting around for snacking. The spices really shine through and give it a bold profile. I would compare it to drinking a liquified pie. This is absolutely not a calorie-conscious drink, nor is it something I would want frequently through the year. A celebratory drink to share with family on Christmas, though? It’s perfect for that.
I don’t think it’s a yearly tradition yet, but I could definitely see myself making coquito again. It seemed to go over well at my friend’s Hobbit Day party, so I have high hopes that others will similarly enjoy it. Until then, I hope you all have a very merry Christmas, happy holidays, and a prosperous new year.
A lot of times, when people think of Christmas, they picture that Hallmark movie set with snow everywhere and people bundled up. Problem is, this is South Carolina. Most years, Christmas is sunny with a high of 65. It ain’t cold. It ain’t even really cool. I usually end up wearing shorts and a t-shirt and it’s comfortable.
If we lived somewhere cold, spiced buttered rum would be perfect. Instead, I wanted something cold, ideally something I could share with my cousins while we fry the turkey out back. That normally looks like a bottle of some whiskey that we stick in the back of my truck and mix with whatever soda is available. Surely I could find something a little more celebratory.
I skimmed through a few lists of Christmas cocktail ideas, but none of them really seemed to fit what I wanted. Either they had a laundry list of ingredients that I didn’t have on hand, or they took more effort than I wanted to invest. A lot of them felt like what you would expect of an upper middle class Christmas party where nobody has kids and everyone wants to look more wealthy than they actually are. That ain’t me.
Eventually, I found a recipe for Coquito. It was a batch recipe and served “at least 16,” per the recipe. Great, that’s enough to share! Reading over the recipe, it seemed simple enough. A couple of dairy products, some spices, and a bottle of rum. Simmer it, decant it into sealable bottles (mason jars in my case), and toss a cinnamon stick in each.
I added the ingredients to my next grocery pickup. Technically, the recipe calls for Puerto Rican rum, but y’all know I’m a huge fan of Costco’s spiced rum. The label claims it is “made with rum distilled in Puerto Rico,” and that’s close enough in my opinion. I didn’t need another excuse to pick up another bottle, although I had to do math to cut the handle size down to the recommended 750 ml from the recipe. In freedom units, that’s just over 3 cups. Whatever will I do with the remaining liter of spiced rum?
When picking up ingredients, I went with the store brand for mostly everything. However, I had to get actual Carnation brand evaporated milk. One of my favorite poems directly references Carnation milk, and I would be remiss to ignore the opportunity to mention it. Even if I didn’t drink any directly from the can, it went into the mix and that’s enough to reference the poem.
Carnation milk is the best in the land.
Here I sit with a can in my hand.
No tits to pull, no hay to pitch,
You just punch a hole in the son of a bitch.
From what I could gather, nobody knows exactly when that rhyme came about. It dates back to at least 1963, but it seems to have been pretty well known even then (Ogilvy, 1963). No matter who created it, I feel it serves as a great testament to a pragmatic life. When you can appreciate the convenience and ease of canned milk, and compose a verse to the value it has brought to your life, you know what’s important. Here’s to the Carnation milk drinkers of the world.
In any case, I got the ingredients and started following the recipe. The steps were pretty simple; basically, throw everything in a pot and mix until combined. Alcohol goes in at the end, because we don’t want to cook it down. I used a dutch oven for heat retention and volume, but I figured there wasn’t much room to mess up.
As I was waiting for the mixture to come to a boil, I continued stirring. I would stir a little bit, watch for a while, and bump the temperature up just a hair. We were looking at the suggestion of a boil, so I stirred and increased the heat a little. After several cycles, the contents went from the theory of a boil to outright boiling over. I panicked and pulled the dutch oven off the hot eye, but the damage was done. It bubbled up and over the side and left a mess of hot, sticky, sweet slurry all over the glass cooktop. The mixture simmered down after I pulled it off the heat, but the mess was a huge pain to clean up.
With the base prepared, I let it cool and mixed in the rum. I prepared mason jars with a cinnamon stick in each and ladled in coquito a bit at a time until the jars were full. I capped each and stashed them in the fridge. I wasn’t sure if the ingredients and effort would produce anything worthwhile, but I scooped a small serving into a glass to try it out.
Mixing in some ice to cool it down and simulate the actual serving suggestion, my wife and I gave it a try. All in all, I was impressed. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, and the combination of ingredients seemed like a shot in the dark rather than a properly planned drink mix.
The experience of drinking coquito is…. Interesting. First thing you’ll notice is how thick it is. And I mean it is thicc. You can definitely tell that sweetened condensed milk was used in it, just from the consistency. It also isn’t completely uniform. I wouldn’t necessarily call it lumpy, but there are pieces where the spices collected together. It isn’t bad, but I think running an immersion blender in it before transferring to jars would have helped smooth it out. This is helped tremendously by pouring over ice and letting it melt a bit, so don’t let that description turn you away from trying the drink entirely.
The flavor is absolutely like Christmas in a cup. It’s sweet and decadent, the way Christmas always has all manner of treats sitting around for snacking. The spices really shine through and give it a bold profile. I would compare it to drinking a liquified pie. This is absolutely not a calorie-conscious drink, nor is it something I would want frequently through the year. A celebratory drink to share with family on Christmas, though? It’s perfect for that.
I don’t think it’s a yearly tradition yet, but I could definitely see myself making coquito again. It seemed to go over well at my friend’s Hobbit Day party, so I have high hopes that others will similarly enjoy it. Until then, I hope you all have a very merry Christmas, happy holidays, and a prosperous new year.
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