Cocktail Snob - quality matters!

Rum is cheap in Cuba.
The problem is that citrus, cola, and other liquors and liqueurs are not cheap, and are in fact quite dear. So if you're into straight rum (particularly if you have a fetish for Havana Club), Havana is rummy heaven. But if it is cocktails you want, they are a bit harder to come by, and are usually mediocre at best. A bottle of Havana Club 7-Year can be had in for less than ten bucks almost anywhere in Havana, and the significantly less interesting (but still drinkable) Anejo Blanco can be bought for less than the equivalent of $3 U.S.
But if it is mojitos, Cuba libres, or daiquiris you're looking for, then your limes, cola, and mint leaves will get into money. And ice... well, just be aware of the fact that the local ice is made with the local water, and the local water may or may not give you some trouble.

Cuba is not a country where the locals have much cash to spend in things like restaurants or bars. There are almost no bars in Havana; people take in their rum on the verandas of their crumbling 19th century Colonial mansions (usually in the company of a few friends and neighbors playing some music - unamplified - just for the pleasure of doing so). The few bars that I did see are mostly in the Havana Vieja (Old Havana) area, which is the historic zone, restored for tourists. These bars are, on the whole, leftovers from the pre-Castro era, from a time when Cuba was America's playground. Ninety miles from Key West, establishments such as La Floridita, Sloppy Joe's, and Dos Hermanos reigned supreme.

Competition for business isn't something that Cuba's understand either. Cuba is almost completely free of advertising. But Havana Club is the exception. Their logo is everywhere (think about it: the only company in the entire nation that advertises, at all, is a brand of booze). Tells you something about the Cuban mind-set. I could learn to like this little island!

When Cuba inevitably opens up to U.S. trade, Havana Club seems to be poised and prepared to run their business American-style. They will not only get the cash of every U.S tourist who will flood into Cuba, but they will also give Bacardi a run for their money in the U.S. rum market. It is as if they are practicing here in Cuba, preparing to stage a massive assault on Bacardi as soon as Barack Obama and Raul Castro shake hands a few times.

All of these ads seem to work. Havana Club has a near-monopoly on the rum market.
I did see a few other brands here and there, but when it is time to offer your amigos a drink, they don't ask if you want a 'rum', they ask if you want a "Havana Club' (not unlike how people in the U.S. ask if you want a Coke no matter what brand of cola happens to be on hand.

A guide to Havana Club rums...

Havana Club makes eight rums right now, ranging from about (the equivalent of) U.S. $3 per bottle (Añejo Blanco - unaged clear rum) to the equivalent of U.S. $1700 per bottle (for their limited edition ‘Maximo’).

They are:
Añejo Blanco (White) Añejo 3 Años (3 Years) Añejo Especial (Special)
These three are all just fine for mixing in drinks. You can get them for the equivalent of U.S. $3 to $5 per bottle in Havana and about triple that price (still rather cheap by American standards) in duty free shops in airports around the world. The Especial is a dark rum, the other two are clear.

And then:
Añejo Reserva (6 Years) Añejo 7 Años (7 Years) Cuban Barrel Proof
These are the mid-priced rums, and all three are darker in color.
The Reserva is about $7 (U.S. equivalent) per bottle in Havana, while the 7-Year is about $15 (U.S. equivalent). They’re about $15 and $22 respectively in duty-free shops.
The Barrel Proof is about $40 (U.S. equivalent) in Havana and around $60 in airports - but I have only ever seen it in an airport once. The Barrel Proof has won numerous international awards and is considered one of the finest rums in the world. And, naturally, like all of the Havana Club products, it is not available in the U.S. In Cuba, it is not rare, but it is definitely scarce; most Cubans can’t afford to drink it, and most tourists are fine with the cheaper rums. So, the Reserva and 7-Year are what is commonly consumed straight or over ice during Cuban nightlife. I actually prefer the Reserva, which is also half the price of the 7-Year, so goody for me. I have carefully amassed a small stockpile of Reserva and 7-Year while in various airports on my way home from Spain, France, Chile, and Japan. I dole it out like liquid gold at home. And here... I can get a whole bottle for the pitiful little sum of $7 (U.S. equivalent). Less than the cost of one cocktail in Chicago.
I am in rummy heaven.
The mission: score some Barrel Proof, and get it home.
As much as possible.

Finally...
Añejo 15 Años (15 Years) Máximo Extra Añejo
These are the two extremely high-end products for connoisseurs and/or chumps and suckers.
The 15-year is about $150 (U.S. equivalent) per bottle, and the Maximo is $1700 (U.S. equivalent) in the one place in all of Cuba where it can be bought - the gift shop at the distillery museum tour. Don Jose Navarro, master blender for Havana Club, asserts that his creation is the most expensive currently-produced rum in the world, but he does not justify why it costs this much to produce. Most of the 1000 bottles made per year are exported to Europe where there are suckers lined up to buy it.

Give that money to all of the freakishly poor people living in Havana.
There are a lot of them who could probably live for five years on that much cash (average monthly salary in Havana: $25).

Havana Club also sponsors a rum museum in Havana Vieja.
The guided tour is relatively expensive (the equivalent of $7 U.S.) and cursory at best. Within the museum are a mockup of a rum distillery (those are fake barrels in the pic to the right), real antique sugar presses, and a scale diorama of a larger sugar plantation (featuring an electric train and lights that are far, far cooler and more elaborate than anything that any Cuban child has ever seen on Christmas morning). The tour is guided and fast, so visitors don't have time to linger and absorb info at their own pace. The woman who guided the rushed tour spoke passable English. She had a spiel to get through, and did so at lightning speed. She was disinterested in dialogue or in taking questions. Interruptions were not accepted gracefully.

Rum geeks will be disappointed; there is no true love here for the spirit, it is all just a cash-cow and another ad for Havana Club. The thimble full of “free” rum that ended the tour was hardly worth the price of admission.

Atypical for Cuba (but not so elsewhere) was the extensive gift shop between the end of the tour and the exit; it was here that I saw the $1700 bottle of Havana Club Maximo (left) stored safely in a glass display case, cradled in velvet.

There are other brands of rum to be found in Cuba, but you have to look for them.
The motherlode, in my experience, was in the gift shop of Dos Gardenias, a nightclub in the Miramar neighborhood (the westernmost part of Havana).

A few things I spotted there included:
Ron Mulata (at least four varieties), Ron Santero (Anejo Blanco, Aguardiente, and Palma Superior), Arecha (Elixir de Ron), Ron Anejo Legendario, Brandy Torres Perfecto, Ron Anejo Santiago de Cuba (Blanco and Anejo), and Ron Varadero (Palma Superior and Anejo 7). They were all about $4 to $8 (U.S. equivalent) per bottle.

On the higher end, Mulata has a Solera for $45.90 (U.S. equivalent), and a Palma Reserva for $37.80 (U.S. equivalent). I was also shocked to see some very dusty old bottles of Johnnie Walker Blue for $292 (U.S. equivalent)!
Doing a price comparison, Havana Club Anejo Reserva is about $10 (U.S. equivalent) here, so actually this place is a bit on the expensive side, for Havana.

I also discovered a beverage from a brand called Cubé, made (apparently) of anejo rum and Spanish sherry. It might be like a relative of port, a rum-fortified wine sort of thing. “Ajerezado” (sp?). The same company also make liqueurs of banana, cacao, triple sec, coffee, and maraschino, which makes me suspect the quality of their rum. Seems like Cuba’s answer to De Kuyper.

So, there are bars to go to in Havana.

Virtually next door to the Havana Club museum, is Dos Hermanos, a rather famous classic-era watering hole. It is now closed, but I think the closure is just for renovation. I was able to snap a pic through the slatted window; it does seem to be in the process of a facelift.
A bronze plaque outside says something abut the place's historic significance and lists some names: Ernesto Garcia Lorca, Marlon Brando, Ernest Hemingway, Erroll Flynn, and Enrique Serpa. Not at all bad company to be drinking with. The second of three famous Havana destinations was Sloppy Joe's, which is long gone.

La Floridita is the last of the classic trio of Havana cocktail bars.
It is the one destination that cocktail snobs will want to gravitate towards - if only for historical purposes.
Founded in 1817, it is known as the “Cradle of the Daiquiri”, and is in fact where this particular libation is said to have been invented. Hemingway spent so much time here that they erected a bronze statue of him in place of his favorite stool at the very end of the bar.
The establishment is atypically subfusc for Havana (most places have their glassless wooden windows flung open to the sunlight). In the darkness, I spotted a mural behind the bar, and a few tables on the other side of the room. As is the case everywhere in Cuba, a band plays inside; in this case they are crammed in right next to the front door.

The back room was once an elegant dining room, but is now musty and grey, with once colorful carpets long faded upholstery desperately in need of replacement - which will not happen in Cuba. The bar is notable for having almost no booze on the shelves. Their menu is a bit limited. They serve prodigious numbers of daiquiris to the tourists and so there are ingredients on hand for little else.
I spent $6 (U.S. equivalent) on a mediocre daiquiri, made indifferently by a tired old Habanero barman who has probably seen better days, and who probably has better skills than what he exhibited upon my visit. After that, I didn't feel - in spite of the legendary status of the bar I was in - as though I needed to stay any longer.

I visited Bar Monserrat, half a block from La Floridita. Contrasting La Floridita’s dusky, woody, (formerly) elegant interior, Monserrat is a simpler establishment, with big wooden shutters pushed wide open, allowing the musicians playing in the corner to lure people in from the street, and allowing sunshine and air to permeate the premesis. The drinks here are half the price of libations at La Floridita, and Monserrat serves food as well. There is nothing really special about this place, but it is typical of the handful of cafes that you'll find in Havana Vieja. Order the Havana Club Anejo Reserva or 7-Year straight (you'll pay $2 U.S. equivalent or less), and avoid the wretched local beers (in cans).

Near there is the amazing art deco Bacardi building. Bacardi was kicked out of Cuba after the revolution (December 31, 1958), and moved to Puerto Rico where they proceeded to corner the global rum market with an exceedingly shitty product. Truly, Bacardi is the McDonalds of rum. Remember: just because something is heavily advertised and seen everywhere you go, does not mean it is good.
But the building that Mr. Bacardi left behind: spectabulous.

On the second floor of the Bacardi building, on a balcony overlooking a renovated lobby, is a small bar and cafe.
The wizened old bartender (Alberto) was the only person up there, and as I took pics of the architecture, he made me promise to come back to him for drinks. He claimed to be “the only person who could make them properly”. I had little doubt that he thought he meant what he said, and of course anyone who even says that sort of thing has an unusual dedication to his craft. Properly.
They have the GranReserva (that $150 per bottle stuff) here for $10 (U.S. equivalent) per shot (and yet no Bacardi!), so if you want to sample it without buying the bottle, this is the place to do it. I didn’t see it at any other bars at all during my trip. You can get a meal as well, including entree, salad, coffee, ice cream, and two drinks for $10 (U.S. equivalent).

Similar to Monserrat but with half the size and twice the crowd is La Bodeguita del Medio, a little tiny cafe opened by Angel Martinez in 1942. Wehn I visited, a huge crowd of tourists were gathered around outside taking pictures. A few people crowded inside, while belaguered-looking bartenders hurriedly mixed up mid-morning mojitos. A tour guide was telling people that you can’t get a mojito outside of Cuba. Ihead this multiple times while I was in Cuba.
Sorry.
Wrong.
Not sure what the big deal about this place is, although Hemingway did drink here too. But that guy drank everywhere. Better to commemorate the places he didn’t frequent, there’d be fewer of them. Mohammed Ali and Nat King Cole dined here. Big deal.

Aside from mojitos, Cuba libres, or daiquiris, some of the smaller paladars (or restaurants contained in people's homes) serve a cocktail called cinchanchara, made of honey, lemon, clear rum, and sparkling water. It wasn’t anything special as served, but I’ll bet I can improve on the concept by playing with the ratios (try one sour, two sweet, three strong, four weak).

Another paladar shared their bottle of Legendario Elixir de Cuba (since 1946). 34% abv. It is made in Havana within the Polar beer brewery on Linea St. The elixir is sort of a sweetened rum-based thing with a few hints of spice, basically rum diluted with sugar and spice, etc.

The grand finale of a Havana trip is a visit to the Tropicana Nightclub , a time warp, a fully three-dimensional piece of the past, transported into 2008. This old-style club was built in 1939 and if it has ever been updated, that renovation can not have happened any sooner than half a century ago.

It is a rather steep $70 (U.S. equivalent) to get in. Of course the show is performed by rote and geared towards tourists. I’d be tempted to call it a ripoff for the price, but the two hour spectacular employs a cast of nearly a hundred, including at least a dozen musicians, several dozen showgirls, a few featured dancers, and a bunch of specialty performers. Add the wait staff, Maitre'D, tech crew, management, and the upkeep costs on the costumes, sound, and lighting, and this place can’t be cheap to operate.

Surrounded on all sides by a lush jungle, the Tropicana is in an outdoor clearing in the foliage where people can enjoy an old-style cabaret show under the stars. An elaborate stage, itself a marvel of mid-century design, is home to performers in elaborate costumes singing, dancing, performing acrobatic feats, and transporting visitors right back to grandpa’s era. The live band (in an elevated bandstand off of stage left) is balanced by a huge, three-tiered side-stage to stage right. I love the conga soloist on his own hydraulic-lift platform, and the giant chandelier moving over the audience on a giant track... followed by girls in chandelier dresses (you had to see them) on stage.
This is so bad.

Chinese-style acrobats (but Cuban of course) balancing on tall objects to Flight of the Bumblebee.
Every campy shtick you can possibly imagine, all lined up.
Hilarious.
Well worth the money, but dumb as hell.

One glass of champagne, upon being seated, is free.
Rum is free.
Cola is not.
I drank the rum straight, and I think I got my share.
And then some.
Snacks are free but in extremely skimpy portions, and the snack waiter is impossible to flag down.

After the show, the venue stays open for dancing, but most of the audience will leave immediately (the tour busses were a-waiting).

With some reluctance, I slunk out of there all too soon, snapping pictures of the life-sized sculpture of the dancing hours (a dozen nude women dancing around a fountain), the searchlights reflecting on and around the palm trees, the neon everywhere (the arch over the driveway, the sign on the street, and miles of the stuff in the venue), the 1950s Googie cafe (Loi Jardines) off to the side of the main building, the deco ballerina sculpture, the combo playing exit music on the lanai (congas, cowbell, maracas, guitar, upright bass, flute).

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Last updated on June 12, 2009

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