When life hands me lemons, I make freshly-squeezed lemonade. When life hands me a grapefruit, I make a Hemingway Daiquiri. When life hands me a grapefruit, limes, Maraschino liqueur, a couple of bottles of Cuban rum (they were a gift -- I swear!) and a few sugar canes all at the same time -- well, I kinda have to take that as a mixological edict straight from Papa.

Whether or not one's a fan of Ernest Hemingway's barrel-chested prose, it's still entirely possible to appreciate his contributions to the cocktail lexicon. As an ex-pat in Havana, Hemingway spent much of his time bellied up to the El Floridita Bar, reportedly gulping down six of these babies if just out to be social, and a dozen doubles (bump up the rum portion, and you've got yourself a Papa Doble) if drunkenness were the mission's objective.

More, plus two recipes after the jump.

This permutation of the classic rum/lime/sweet cocktail bears as much resemblance to a Slurpee-fied cruise ship daiquiri as Death in the Afternoon does to the collected works of Nicholas Sparks. It's wickedly tart, in accordance with Hemingway's edict that his cocktails be free of added sweeteners, served ice cold (he liked his shaken with crushed, rather than cubed ice, and served on the rocks) and strappingly strong. The only respite from the citrus tang comes in the form of a splash of maraschino liqueur, which he likely partook as a float on top, as opposed to a shaken component.

I've never much liked Hemingway (save for the Nick Adams stories), so I had to go tinkering. As I'd mentioned, several stalks of sugar cane recently made their way into my kitchen, and I was trying to figure out how the heck to use them. I've seen them as swizzles, and surely enjoy their contributions to Thai shrimp dishes, but short a traditional mule-powered cane grinder, remained slightly stumped as to how to press out the pulp. I opted for a multi-hour boil of chunks of the stalk, stopping periodically to cool, slice notches, and grate into shreds when pieces seemed sufficiently soft. Eventually, when the flesh seems as if it had given off as much sweetness as it had to offer, I strained the mixture through fine mesh and reduced it to somewhere between a thick juice and a syrup. The flavor was undeniably sweet and deep, stopping just short of a burnt-molasses bitterness, and screamed to be tempered with lime and it's kissin' cousin rum. Who am I to keep them apart?


Hemingway Daiquiri (From Cocktail: The Drinks Bible for the 21st Century by Paul Harrington)

1 1/2 oz light rum
1/4 oz maraschino liqueur
3/4 oz freshly squeezed lime juice
1/4 oz freshly squeezed grapefruit juice

Shake with ice, strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a lime wheel.

Hemingway Daiquiri #2 (my take)

1 oz Havana Club silver rum
1/8 oz maraschino liqueur
1/8 oz cane syrup or cooked-down cane juice
3/4 oz freshly squeezed lime juice
1/4 oz freshly squeezed grapefruit juice

Shake with ice, strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a sugar cane swizzle.


Got a Hemingway tweak you'd like to share? Bar's open.