The Spanish used local ingredients, like coconut and white rum, to spice up their traditional Spanish eggnog.īut wait, what is eggnog? Well, it’s a mix of milk, cream, sugar, spices, and usually whipped eggs.Īnd this version is similar, only it calls for cream of coconut and sweetened condensed milk with those holiday spices.Īdd white rum, and it’s one helluva Christmas cocktail. But many believe it was created when Spanish colonizers arrived in Puerto Rico. It appeared in some Puerto Rican cookbooks in the 1950s. Puerto Rican Coquito RecipeĬoquito, pronounced co-kee-to, translates to “little coconut” in Spanish. But the origins are a mystery.
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Intrigued? Let’s dive in and learn how to make the best Puerto Rican Coquito. So yeah, it’s the ultimate holiday treat!Īnd the great thing about coquito is that it lasts in the fridge for months. So you can whip up a big batch after Thanksgiving and sip on it all season! Leave Canada Dry alone.It’s so rich and creamy, and the flavors of coconut shine through. If you want actual ginger, go to the organic grocery store. The Champagne of Soda, which I will now be exclusively referring to it as, doesn’t advertise itself as some sort of miracle cure-all. To me, it doesn’t matter if there’s any actual ginger in Canada Dry or not. The funniest part? If you bought Canada Dry between Januand December 19, 2018, you are entitled to some reparations. The class-action suit became a big news story, eventually resulting in a $11.2 million settlement. People wondered for years whether there was actually any ginger in Canada Dry, so much so that a New York woman and real-life Seinfeld character named Julie Fletcher filed a lawsuit because she couldn’t find ginger on the ingredients list. The official website site says it is “often called the champagne of sodas,” which I think is hilarious. Canada Dry was created in 1904 and was a popular mixer during Prohibition.
Everyone can recall that fizzy sensation of gulping a Canada Dry, with its sweet, elegantly balanced flavor rush that coats the back of your throat and covers your tongue in tiny pin-prick bubbles. This century-old ginger ale is a household name and personal favorite of mine. I give ‘em three fizzy bubbles out of five. Turns out both are owned by Brooklyn Food & Beverage.
Bruce Cost tastes a lot like Brooklyn Crafted-so much so, that it made me wonder how the two are able to coexist on the same shelves of yoga studios and avocado dispensaries across the borough. Sure, it’s raw cane sugar, and there’s no high fructose corn syrup, but lest we forget, ginger ale is still soda, folks. That’s four grams more than a same size bottle of Sprite. The sugar content? Written in a teenier font, it says 37 grams. The ingredient list boldly proclaims the simplicity of its recipe: carbonated water, organic cane sugar, 100-percent fresh ginger, and citric acid. It bills itself as “unfiltered” and “made with fresh ginger and organic cane sugar,” even going as far as to say, right on the label, that it is a “proud descendant of the original soft drink," whatever the hell that means. Nevertheless, we’re seeing a wave of “healthy” ginger ales hit soda aisles, as the wellness craze continues to bleed into every possible industry.īruce Cost seems to be the ginger ale of choice for Brooklyn's overpriced bagel spots and gentrified coffee shops. There's a consensus on the positive effects of ginger for intestines, but, according to the Atlantic’s comprehensive study of the topic, the jury’s still out on whether ginger ale itself can provide anything aside from a good ol’ placebo surge in the brain. Ginger ale, which has been drunk around the globe for centuries, may not have scientifically proven benefits for stomach health. And on a bumpy flight in the middle of the night, as the seatbelt light flashed in a thunderstorm, that plastic cup of Canada Dry on ice quelled thoughts of impending doom. When you were hungover on the Sunday morning after your 21st birthday, those tiny sips of Seagrams welcomed you to adulthood. When you were home sick with stomach flu in middle school, Scooby Doo reruns playing on the TV, wet rag dripping on your forehead, that can of ginger ale on your bedside table was the one thing sitting between you and intestinal hell.
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