What People Drink in the Caribbean: 7 Traditional Alcoholic Beverages

From limestone cayes to volcanic peaks, the Caribbean’s drinks reflect sugarcane fields, tropical fruit, and centuries of maritime trade. Rum anchors daily life and celebration, but island traditions diverge with terroir, still types, and colonial histories.

Social rituals—liming with friends, village fêtes, and holiday parades—shape when and how people drink. Seasonal ingredients like sorrel, coconut, and ginger join cane spirits, yielding beverages that are both refreshment in the heat and markers of identity.

Barbados is often cited as the cradle of commercial rum, with documented production by the 17th century and brands like Mount Gay tracing records to 1703. Barbadian rum is primarily molasses-based, typically distilled in a mix of column and pot stills, then aged in ex-bourbon barrels under tropical conditions. Bottlings commonly sit at 40–43% ABV, with some cask-strength releases. Expect balanced aromas of vanilla, banana, toasted coconut, and gentle baking spice; on the palate it is medium-bodied, clean, and oak-structured rather than funky. The island’s limestone-filtered water contributes to a notably crisp profile. Rum shops—neighborhood bars that are part grocery, part social hub—are where locals lime after work, sipping neat pours, rum-and-sodas, or simple punches sweetened with local sugar. Historically, rum underwrote plantation economies and maritime trade routes; today, geographic indications and heritage stills help define provenance. Visitors encounter rum across the day: a splash in coffee at breakfast, a measured dram before dinner, or a shared bottle at weekend fish fries along the coast.

Clairin is Haiti’s artisanal cane spirit, distilled in thousands of small rural sites from fresh sugarcane juice rather than molasses. Producers crush cane, allow spontaneous, wild-yeast fermentations, and distill in rustic pot stills; no additives or aging are standard. Bottled often between 45% and 53% ABV, clairin carries vivid aromas of cut grass, tropical fruit, olive brine, and fermenty esters, with a textured, oily palate and a persistent, earthy finish. Each locality’s cane varieties and fermentation practices imprint a distinct terroir, making clairin intensely place-specific. Historically, the spirit has flowed through village gatherings, rara processions, and religious life; clairin is commonly used as a pour or offering in Vodou ceremonies as well as for convivial toasts. In everyday settings, it’s sipped neat in small glasses, sometimes tempered with sugar or lime. Contemporary bottlers have introduced single-origin clairins (such as Sajous or Vaval) to the wider world, but domestically the production remains personal and seasonal, tied to the rhythms of cane harvest and community celebration.

Ti' Punch is the emblematic apéritif of the French Antilles, built on rhum agricole—cane juice rum—especially from Martinique’s AOC-designated producers. The classic formula is minimal: a coin of lime (often just the zest and pith), a measure of cane syrup, and a robust pour of rhum blanc typically 50–55% ABV. No ice is traditional. The aroma is intensely grassy and floral, with lime oils and raw cane; the taste is bright, lightly sweet, and assertive, finishing with peppery warmth. Preparation itself is cultural: hosts set out bottles and let guests mix to preference—summed up by the saying “chacun prépare sa propre mort” (each prepares his own death). Ti' Punch is taken before meals at sundown, at beach bars, and during fêtes where agricultural heritage is front and center. While rhum vieux (aged) sometimes appears for a softer version, the drink’s identity relies on fresh cane character shaped by volcanic soils and trade winds. Across Martinique and Guadeloupe, it serves as a daily ritual that foregrounds terroir in a tropical climate.

Mamajuana is a Dominican macerated drink made by soaking a bundle of dried barks, roots, and spices in a mixture of rum, red wine, and honey. Common botanicals include canelilla, clove, star anise, and local woods; families and vendors keep proprietary blends. The base rum is usually around 40% ABV, but dilution with wine and honey yields a finished strength near 20–30%, depending on ratios and steeping time. Aromas are resinous and spiced—think clove, anise, vanilla, and herbal bitters—while the palate is warm, sweet-edged, and slightly tannic from the woods. Historically framed as a household remedy and aphrodisiac in folk medicine, mamajuana today is poured as a digestif in colmados, beachfront kiosks, and during family gatherings. Bottles are often “recharged” multiple times with fresh rum and wine as the woods continue to infuse. Served in small shots or over ice, it marks celebrations, Sunday meals, and moments when conversation lingers long after plates are cleared.

Guyana’s Demerara rum is defined by molasses from the country’s historic sugar estates and by unique wooden stills preserved at Demerara Distillers Limited. The Port Mourant double wooden pot still, Versailles single wooden pot still, and Enmore wooden Coffey still each impart singular, resinous depth rarely found elsewhere. After column and pot distillation, rums age in ex-bourbon barrels in a humid, equatorial climate, concentrating flavor. Bottlings range from 40% ABV to cask strengths above 57%. Expect dark molasses, licorice, black banana, and baking spice on the nose, with dense, oily textures and a lingering oak-driven finish. Historically exported under estate marks across the British Empire, Demerara rum remains a backbone in tiki-era classics and modern craft cocktails, while locals enjoy it neat, with soda, or in simple punches. Along the rivers and coastal villages, rum accompanies fish curries and pepperpot, its richness standing up to assertive, spiced dishes that reflect Guyana’s Indo-, Afro-, and Indigenous culinary influences.

Sorrel punch is a Christmas-season staple made from the calyces of Hibiscus sabdariffa, steeped with fresh ginger, pimento (allspice), and often orange peel or clove. Once the deep-red infusion is strained and sweetened, overproof white rum—famously 63% ABV in Jamaica—is added to taste, yielding a final strength that typically lands around wine-level to low-spirited cocktail range. The bouquet is vivid: cranberry-like tartness, floral hibiscus, citrus oils, and warming spice. Served well-chilled over ice, it’s both refreshing in tropical weather and evocative of holiday tables. In Jamaica and Trinidad and Tobago, families brew large batches in December, letting the spices marry for a day or two before gatherings. It appears at house limes, on verandas after church, and alongside festive foods like black cake or pastelles. Nonalcoholic portions are reserved for children, while adults adjust rum levels by the glass. The drink speaks to Caribbean seasonality: hibiscus harvests, backyard ginger, and spice routes that once linked the islands to the wider Atlantic world.

Coquito is Puerto Rico’s holiday cream liqueur, a coconut-forward cousin of eggnog. The base blends cream of coconut, coconut milk, sweetened condensed milk, and evaporated milk with white rum, plus cinnamon, vanilla, and sometimes nutmeg; some family recipes add egg yolks, others keep it egg-free. After blending, the mixture rests refrigerated to integrate flavors, then is served in small chilled cups. Depending on rum dosage, coquito typically sits around 12–20% ABV. Aromas are rich with coconut and warm spice, and the palate is silky, sweet, and gently boozy. Bottles are gifted between neighbors and brought to Nochebuena and New Year gatherings, where they accompany roast pork and rice dishes. Beyond the holidays, coquito appears at baptisms and birthdays, reflecting the island’s preference for celebratory, shareable drinks. Contemporary makers experiment with chocolate or pistachio versions, but the core remains a coconut-cream base enlivened by rum—a tropical expression suited to Puerto Rico’s climate and festive calendar.