Hemingway Daiquiri

A bar. A man. A drink. “Those are the facts,” writes drink historian Ted Haigh in “Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails,” “and from there the story goes straight to hell.”

The bartender may have called this drink the Papa Doble, which, with some ingredient additions, morphed into the Hemingway Daiquiri (or possibly the Hemingway Special or El Floridita #4). The exact history is a matter of considerable contention among cocktail sleuths, who have been poring over the clues ever since Hemingway walked out of the bathroom.

But of course, there’s what really matters: Is this a good drink?

Turns out, trusting Hemingway on cocktail quality is like trusting an NFL linebacker on how to make pasta. His concern was more about quantity than quality—Hemingway proudly claimed the El Floridita house record of 16 double Daiquiris. Of course he didn’t want sugar in his Daiquiri; those 16 drinks, if traditionally made, would have involved nearly two cups of sugar. If the alcohol didn’t kill him, the sugar certainly would.

Hemingway’s sugarless Daiquiri never really caught on the way the Dry Martini did. Try one: You’ll find it surprising that something can be so bland and so undrinkably tart at the same time. But it evolved over the years into something much better.

Argue all you want about the composition and history of a true Hemingway Daiquiri; I just figure it’s a traditional Daiquiri with a Bohemian streak—the sugar reduced at one point and grapefruit juice and maraschino liqueur added at another point to give a bit of depth and sweetness.

However it got there, it’s a fine drink.

• 2 ounces white rum
• 1/2 ounce maraschino liqueur
• 3/4 ounce lime juice, freshly squeezed
• 1/2 ounce grapefruit juice, freshly squeezed
• Garnish: lime wheel

1. Add the rum, maraschino liqueur, lime juice and grapefruit juice into a shaker with ice and shake until well-chilled.
2. Strain into a coupe glass.
3. Garnish with a lime wheel.