The MUNCHIES Guide to Summer: Classic Beach Cocktails

Welcome to summer, friends.

Even the moodiest, gothiest, most melanoma-prone naysayer among you can't deny the pleasure of an electric-blue cocktail that tastes something like cotton candy swirled into a melted Otter Pop, with a judicious dose of high-proof liquor.

It's called the Blue Hawaii, and it puts the motion in our ocean.

It gets its signature Kool-Aid hue from blue curaçao, a remnant of a nearly forgotten cocktail culture of the 1950s and 60s that was heavy on vodka, cream, and other weird shit that we have since shoved to the back of our parents' antiquated liquor cabinets. The Blue Hawaii itself was born of a desire to use blue curaçao in a way that was both palatable and visually interesting; when Hilton Hawaiian Village bartender Harry Yee encountered the stuff in 1957, he created a cocktail that at once became the inspiration for an Elvis Presley film and, later, the poster child for overly sweet, mixer-based tropical cocktails that will leave you with more of a headache than a decent buzz.

But our version, courtesy of Joseph Brook at The 86 Company (a New York-based spirits company founded by cocktail masterminds Simon Ford, Jason Kosmas, and Dushan Zaric) sticks to the classic formula: quality vodka and rum, blended with fresh fruit juice and simple syrup—and, of course, some blue curaçao.

We serve ours in a turtle terrarium, but a regular glass will do just fine in a pinch.

And was there ever a more classic beach drink than the Piña Colada? Like the Blue Hawaii, it dates back to the 50s, when enterprising bartenders in Puerto Rico blended newly available cream of coconut with rum and pineapple juice.

Also like the Blue Hawaii, the Piña Colada has become corrupted by cheap spirits and shit mixers—the equivalent of powdered nondairy creamer in a cup of instant coffee. It might approximate the original, but it's nothing like it.

Our recipe—graciously shared by New Orleans restaurant and rum-based bar Cane & Table—goes back to basics by starting with a whole fresh young coconut.

You'll also require a meat cleaver or machete—which, if you're a regular reader of MUNCHIES, we pretty much assume you have at the ready at all times—to crack open your coconut.

You're essentially making your own fresh coconut milk (don't tell Rihanna) and blending it with top-notch rum and frozen pineapple. Not a complex operation, but a theatrical one.

For extra flair, serve your Piñas on the blade of your machete as you salute the gods of summer. Enjoy the sunshine, everyone.