Coquito

CW: Heavy alcohol use

“... Blasted coquito...” I groan as I hold my head. Oh yes, I could already feel the effects of the damned Christmas drink.

Despite the effects, abuelita knew how to make a killing coquito.

Quite literary.

“...owww...” I groaned as I sat up.

One quick look around I realize I was at abuelita’s home back in Puerto Rico. Even though I was feeling groggy, I slowly remembered what happened.

I arrived from New York back to Puerto Rico to celebrate Christmas with my family. You see, Puerto Rico has the longest Christmas celebrations in the world and thus, we know how to party. We party hard. Even abuelitas join in on the celebrations. In fact, in my family, abuelita is the designated holiday coquito maker. Her coquito was strong enough to render my uncle Luis, an army veteran with a high alcohol tolerance, unconscious for the reminder of the party until the next morning.

He was currently passed out cold on the dining table.

Coquito counts as both a holiday desert and an alcoholic drink if you add the rum. Children can have it, without the rum of course. It was more like eggnog without it. But chances are they’ll be climbing walls due to a sugar rush until they pass out. Hence why my two younger cousins, Angel and Tina, uncle Luis’s kids, slept peacefully on the other couch.

I shake my head a little bit and look around. Uncle Luis, Angel, and Tina were accounted for. My dad was on the other side of the table opposite my uncle, and I realized there was an unfinished domino game on the table and two empty shots of coquito.

I spot my mom walking out of the kitchen with a cup of black coffee in her hands.

“Buenos días...” She groans as she bids me good morning. She taps my dad on the shoulder a couple of times before he reacts.

“Ugh...?”

“Here, mi amor. Your mom sends it.” She places the cup of coffee on the table in front of him.

“Gracias...” He mumbles a soft thanks as he gently sips the coffee.

“Nothing for me?” I ask my mom.

“Mija, I thought you were going to sleep some more. It’s barely six in the morning.” She sighed tiredly and motioned for me to follow her.

I groan once more and stand up to follow her. I pass behind my dad and pat him on the shoulder. “Abuelita sure makes a killing coquito.” I point it out.

He groans. He was never a morning person, especially after a night with coquito. “I miss it when you weren’t old enough to drink with us, Andrea...”

“What are you talking about?”

“You drank too much.” That was all he said and went back to his coffee.

“Did I do something?”

“Ask your grandma.” He snapped a bit, clearly a bit irritated, which made me a little worried. What could I’ve possibly have done to irritate him so much?

He sees me standing there and sighs. “...You stuffed your head in the arroz con gandules dish and licked everything.”

I look at him with a horrified expression.

Suddenly, he chuckles. “I’m kidding. I was just thinking I don’t have a little girl anymore. Instead, I have a drunk.”

I scoff but smile, nevertheless. My dad had always been the prankster type. My late grandfather told me horror stories of my dad’s youth, and he was an absolute menace to deal with back in his teenage years. “You got me there for a while.” I yawn. “I’m going to go get some coffee to ease my soul.”

“Sure...” He goes back to his coffee as I make my way to abuelita’s kitchen. I see my mom finish making me a cup of coffee and places it on the table there along with a plate of crackers and cheese, which I love to dip in my coffee.

She sits quietly on the table and resumes her own cup. But next to her was abuelita, smiling brightly as she always did in the mornings as she ate some eggs, bread and bacon with her coffee.

She didn’t look like she had ten shots of coquito last night.

I stared at her. “Why aren’t you hungover?” I ask.

She looks at me and smiles. “First, you say good morning.”

I sigh. “Good morning, abuelita.” I got to her and kissed her on the cheek. “Bendición.” I ask for a blessing.

“Dios the bendiga, mija.” She blesses me as I go sit across her.

I look at her. “Seriously, what do you do to wake up so early and look fine?”

“I’ve been making coquito with the finest rum I can afford for over fifty years.” She explains.

“I’m pretty sure you put some voodoo shit in it.”

My mother glares at me.

“Sorry.” I apologize.

But abuelita only laughs it off. “I might as well.” She sipped her coffee. “I forgot it’s the first time you drank a heavy drink with us. I should’ve given you the kid-friendly version instead.”

“Angel and Tina are still knocked out.” I point it out. “I don’t see anything kid-friendly about that.”

“They blew off a lot of energy last night. They’re just tired.” Was abuelita’s excuse.

I decided not to discuss it with her and decided to focus on my coffee and crackers. As I dip some in my cup, I look back at her. “What do you exactly put in that coquito?” I had a feeling my friends back at NYU would have a blast with the drink.

Abuelita smirks at me with a knowing look in her eyes. “Well, I think I can share some family secrets with you, Andrea.”

My mom groans. “Please don’t tell her. I don’t want to hear she got drunk with her college friends and committed crimes.”

“My granddaughter is a responsible one.” Abuelita nods at her daughter-in-law. She turns to me. “One can of evaporated milk, one can of sweetened condensed milk and one can of cream of coconut. Make sure the cream of coconut is Coco López brand or it will taste bland. Then you add one can of unsweetened coconut milk, also Coco López. Dump it all in a blender.”

I nod.

“Then you add a teaspoon of vanilla extract and a teaspoon of ground cinnamon for a kick to it.” Then she smirks. “And the best part, the rum. I like to add two cups of white rum.”

“No wonder we can barely tell apart our hands from our feet.” My mother grumbled.

Abuelita ignored her. “Make sure it’s Don Q or Bacardi. The more traditional, the better.”

I nodded again. “The one you gave my cousins is everything minus the rum, right?”

“Correct.” She nodded.

“Awesome. Thanks for the recipe.”

“Oh, and when you store it, make sure it’s in a crystal bottle.”

“Why?” I ask.

“No reason. It looks better.” She smiles and drinks coffee.

My mother sighs and stands up. “I’m going to wake up the kids and Luis before-”

“Ahhhhh!”

Uncle Luis’s screams startled us, then we heard my dad laughing out loud.

“I’m NOT drinking coquito again!” Uncle Luis yelled.

My dad laughs. “He forgot where we were!” He yelled for us to hear.

“No, I didn't! You shoved a domino piece up my nostril!”

My dad wheezed.

Angel and Tina walk into the kitchen with sleepy looks, awoken by their father’s sudden shouting and my father's endless laughter. Abuelita was quick to dote on them, asking what they wanted for breakfast.

I smiled as I kept hearing my dad’s laughter and my uncle’s complaints about a massive headache and colorful vocabulary.

Oh, and it wasn’t even Christmas Day yet.