The Puerto Rican Literature Project

Puerto Ricans have a concoction 

called coquito 

that we reserve for the holidays 

because when white people ask what it is, we have to say it’s alcoholic egg nog. Otherwise, 

I asked my grandma for the recipe when I was 19 in a September back in the day and even though I asked her 

for a kid’s version, 

she told me how much 

Bacardi and Couvasier to use, 

because abuelas are lie-proof. 

I’ll never tell no one the recipe. 

Not even my momma. 

Coquito is like a genealogy 

in that my mother 

ain’t as sweet as me 

but still knows how to pull the roots of our family tree into every sip, 

and yes, she also asked for the recipe 

when she was too young, 

but I’m my grandma’s favorite only grandson, so she gave me exact measurements. And blessed be the tradition 

that withstands the test of time. 

There are perfectly kept photographs from when my grandma had curves and my grandpa had hair 

that smell like cinnamon and slurred smiles. 

Since I was a youngboul, 

there have always been leftover glass bottles from family members and neighbors and second wives and third husbands collecting in our kitchen 

for preorders of the best coquito 

the holidays can get their hands on. And yes, we sold them jawns by the bottle. I am from a family of hustlers. 

I hustle so well, that last year, 

I ran to the wine and spirits 

and picked up a fifth of Hennessy 

and snuck my Black 

into the Rivera Christmas celebration

and blessed be the new tradition 

that has a retired Puerto Rican couple giving each other love taps 

and sips of their cups to each other. I promised my grandmother 

I’d never tell no one the recipe, 

not even her, 

but I never believed that any brown spirit should not flow through a room 

if it has bodies that are willing to worship it. My mother showed me coquito, 

and my father showed me Hennessy, and here I am: 

a holiday of mixtures 

that you do not need to know about beyond the fact 

that I am a diaspora of celebration. All around, I am of a people of good spirits. The best drink is one you can’t taste 

when it kicks you back 

And yes, I do think liquor 

is an accurate manner of finding unity. My accent comes out 

When I’m off a good cognac 

and surrounded by homies 

and when I say homies, 

I mean everyone in my life 

that can take henny with me 

like it’s a seasonal beverage 

and when I say seasonal, 

I mean any chance we get 

to celebrate every part of ourselves and yes, a glass 

of coco Lopez, cinnamon, 

Puerto Rico’s own rum 

and Henny 

is the easiest way 

to tell my family what I am.