From China’s baijiu to Scottish whisky – a destination’s signature drink can distill sublime holiday memories
- Whether it’s a mojito in an Old Havana bar or sipping one of Islay’s single malts, a local tipple can secure a place in our hearts
- But what tastes great on a getaway can quickly sour once its carefree connotations are removed
For me, one of the most enjoyable aspects of visiting a different place, usually, is sampling the local booze. Drink is a subject I write on, so the main purpose of much of my travel has been to learn about the wines, spirits and occasionally beers of a particular destination. I do travel for other reasons, of course, but either way local liquor generally helps to lubricate the trip.
I didn’t go to Cuba specifically for the rum, but soon found that nothing sets you up for a day wandering around Old Havana like a midmorning mojito at La Bodeguita del Medio, a scruffy hole in the wall which many years ago may or may not have been a favourite haunt of Ernest Hemingway.
Nearby, the smarter but equally venerable El Floridita, which specialises in daiquiris, also stakes a claim to having enjoyed Hemingway’s patronage. Their versions of the drink taste nothing like the surprisingly dry concoction “Papa” is thought to have preferred, but they pack a hefty punch, and you can bend an elbow at the bar right alongside a life-size statue of the great man doing the same. Of such kitsch are memories made.
A sip of either a mojito or a daiquiri can still transport me straight back to Havana in February 2008, when (coincidentally to my visit, I imagine) Fidel Castro stepped down as president. But the truth is I seldom order either. They were a perfect complement to the place and time but, out of context, neither tastes half as good.
I have found this to be true of the signature drinks of many places. During an enjoyable week in Greece, I slipped comfortably into the habit of ordering ouzo as an aperitif on the “When in Rome” principle – although in this case I was in Athens, and I’ve never much cared for anise-flavoured drinks. But the taste seemed to match the setting, although the dalliance was brief. Killing time at Athens airport, I picked up a bottle of ouzo and 15 years later, here it still is, unopened. The layer of dust lends it character.
