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Puerto Rico's beloved Christmas drink: a silky coconut-rum nog that families blend by the bottle and gift to everyone they love. Ingredients: coconut milk, cream of coconut, evaporated milk, sweetened condensed milk, Puerto Rican rum, vanilla, ground cinnamon and nutmeg. Method: 1) Blend everything until completely smooth. 2) Bottle and chill overnight — the flavor deepens as it rests. 3) Shake well and serve cold in small glasses with a dusting of cinnamon. The experience: creamy, gently spiced, dangerously easy to drink — the official taste of a Puerto Rican Navidad. History: Puerto Rico is one of the world's great rum lands — Bacardi runs its largest distillery in Cataño and the Serrallés family has distilled Don Q in Ponce since 1865 — and coquito is where that rum tradition meets the island's coconut-rich holiday table. Every family guards its own recipe.

The official national drink of Puerto Rico since 1978, and the taste of the Caribbean in a glass: rum, pineapple and coconut blended into a frosty, tropical swirl. Ingredients: Puerto Rican white rum, pineapple juice, cream of coconut, crushed ice. Method: 1) Blend the rum, juice and cream of coconut with a generous cup of crushed ice until smooth and frothy. 2) Pour into a chilled hurricane or goblet glass. 3) Garnish with a pineapple wedge and a cherry. The experience: cold, lush and sunshine-sweet — a beach day you can hold. History: the piña colada was created in San Juan in 1954, credited to bartender Ramón “Monchito” Marrero at the Caribe Hilton, who spent months perfecting it; Puerto Rico proclaimed it the national drink in 1978. Its base spirit carries the island's centuries-old rum craft.

Puerto Rico's legendary moonshine: a fiery sugarcane spirit, distilled in the hills and shared in small, serious shots — especially at Christmas. Ingredients: sugarcane (fermented cane juice or molasses), water, yeast — and in the cured style, pitorro “curao,” tropical fruits, raisins, spices or coffee beans steeped in the spirit. Method: 1) Ferment the cane base, then distill it in small stills. 2) For curao, bury or rest the bottle packed with fruit and spice so the flavors marry. 3) Serve in tiny shots — it is strong, and respect is part of the ritual. The experience: a clean cane burn that blooms into fruit and spice, passed hand to hand among family. History: pitorro was made clandestinely for generations under colonial-era taxes and bans, which only deepened its mystique; today a few licensed distillers bottle legal artisanal versions alongside the treasured homemade ones.

Mexico's gift to the world: the blue agave spirit of Jalisco, bright, peppery and unmistakably of its red volcanic earth. Ingredients: 100% blue Weber agave at its best — the piña hearts are slow-cooked, crushed, fermented and distilled (twice, by law and tradition). Styles: blanco (unaged, pure agave fire), reposado (rested in oak), añejo (aged, mellow and deep). Method: 1) Pour a blanco or reposado neat into a caballito or a small flute. 2) Sip slowly — never shoot a fine tequila. 3) For the famous cocktail route, shake blanco with fresh lime juice and orange liqueur for a Margarita. The experience: cooked agave sweetness, citrus, white pepper and a warm mineral finish. History: tequila holds a Denomination of Origin (1974) and may only be made in Jalisco and a few neighboring regions; its agave landscape is a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Tequila's smoky elder: mezcal is agave spirit made the slow, ancestral way, and you taste the fire in every sip. Ingredients: mature agave hearts — espadín and wilder species like tobalá — volcanic rock, firewood, water and wild fermentation. Method: 1) Roast the piñas for days in earthen pits lined with hot volcanic stones. 2) Crush (often by a stone tahona wheel), ferment in open vats, and distill in copper or clay stills. 3) Serve neat in a wide jícara or veladora glass, with orange slices and sal de gusano — worm salt with chile. The experience: smoke first, then roasted agave, earth and fruit, unfolding in layers. History: Oaxaca is mezcal's heartland, where family palenques have worked this way for centuries. The old saying runs: “Para todo mal, mezcal; para todo bien, también” — for everything bad, mezcal; for everything good, the same.

The ancient, milky drink of the Mexican highlands: lightly fizzy, gently sour, alive — pulque is fermented, never distilled, and older than the Aztec empire. Ingredients: aguamiel, the sweet sap of the maguey agave, naturally fermented; flavored “curados” add fruits, nuts or celery. Method: 1) Tap a mature maguey and collect its sap daily. 2) Ferment it in vats with a starter of mature pulque until it turns viscous, white and lightly effervescent — only a few percent alcohol. 3) Serve fresh, the same day, in a glass or gourd at a pulquería. The experience: like drinking a soft, tangy cloud — part yogurt drink, part beer, entirely itself. History: pulque was sacred in pre-Hispanic Mexico, tied to the goddess Mayahuel and ritual life; in the 1800s grand pulquerías anchored Mexico City social life. It cannot travel or wait — you must go to it.

Scotland's masterpiece: whisky made from 100% malted barley at a single distillery, distilled in copper pot stills and aged in oak under Scottish skies. Ingredients: malted barley, water, yeast — nothing else is permitted. Method: 1) Mash the malt, ferment it into a beer-like wash, and double-distill in pot stills. 2) Age at least three years in oak casks — fine malts rest far longer, soaking up vanilla, dried fruit and smoke. 3) Serve neat in a tulip glass; a few drops of water open the aromas. The experience: a landscape in a glass — honeyed and fruity from Speyside, maritime and heathery from the Highlands, powerfully peat-smoked from Islay. History: Scots have distilled uisge beatha, the “water of life,” for over 500 years; today more than 140 distilleries guard the craft, each valley and island with its own accent.

A storied Scottish honey-and-oat whisky cream: part drink, part dessert, and the hero of a 500-year-old legend. Ingredients: oatmeal brose (the liquid from steeped oats), heather honey, single malt Scotch whisky and cream. Method: 1) Steep oatmeal in water and strain off the silky brose. 2) Stir in honey until dissolved, then whisky, then fold in lightly whipped cream. 3) Chill and serve in small glasses. The experience: soft, honeyed and warming — whisky wrapped in velvet, made for winter nights and Hogmanay toasts. History: the brose takes its name from the Earls of Atholl; legend says that in 1475 the Earl filled a well with the mixture to slow a rebellious rival's men, who stopped to drink instead of fighting. Whether or not the tale is true, Scots have been making it ever since.

Scotland's answer to the Manhattan — a bold, russet cocktail of Scotch, vermouth and bitters, named for the Highlands' most famous outlaw-hero. Ingredients: blended or single malt Scotch whisky, sweet red vermouth, Angostura bitters, a maraschino cherry or lemon twist. Method: 1) Stir the whisky, vermouth and bitters with ice until well chilled. 2) Strain into a chilled coupe or cocktail glass. 3) Garnish with cherries or an expressed lemon twist. The experience: rich and spirit-forward — malt and dried fruit up front, herbal sweetness beneath, a dry bitter finish. History: the Rob Roy was created in 1894 at New York's Waldorf Astoria for the opening of an operetta about Robert Roy MacGregor, the Scottish folk hero; it carried his name — and Scotland's whisky — around the world.

The smooth original: Irish whiskey is famous for triple distillation and an easy, honeyed charm that made it the world's best-selling whiskey a century ago — and it is roaring back. Ingredients: malted and unmalted barley (the unique single pot still style), wheat or other grains, water, yeast. Method: 1) Distill — traditionally three times through copper pot stills — for exceptional smoothness; Irish malt is dried in closed kilns, away from peat smoke. 2) Age at least three years in wooden casks in Ireland. 3) Serve neat, or with a splash of water. The experience: light, silky and welcoming — orchard fruit, vanilla, toasted wood and a soft spice finish. History: monks brought distillation to Ireland around a thousand years ago; Bushmills was licensed to distill in 1608, and by the 1800s Irish whiskey ruled the world before a hard century of decline — today its distilleries multiply again.

A hug in a glass: hot coffee and Irish whiskey under a collar of cold cream, invented on a freezing night to warm stranded travelers. Ingredients: hot strong coffee, Irish whiskey, brown sugar, lightly whipped heavy cream. Method: 1) Warm a stemmed glass with hot water, then add sugar and hot coffee and stir until dissolved. 2) Pour in the whiskey. 3) Float cold, barely-whipped cream over the back of a spoon so it sits on top — never stir; you drink the hot, whiskeyed coffee through the cold cream. The experience: warm and bracing below, cool and silky above — coffee, spirit and cream in every mouthful. History: chef Joe Sheridan created it in 1943 at Foynes, Ireland, for flying-boat passengers frozen by a stormy Atlantic crossing; in 1952 San Francisco's Buena Vista café made it world-famous.

Ireland's black gold: a dry stout of roasted barley and nitrogen bubbles, crowned with a dome of cream-white foam — Guinness is its global ambassador. Ingredients: water, malted barley, roasted unmalted barley (the source of its color and coffee-like bite), hops and yeast; draught stout is poured with nitrogen for its signature cascade. Method: 1) Pour at an angle into a pint glass, filling most of the way. 2) Rest — the famous two-part pour — while the surge settles. 3) Top up to a proud foam dome and serve. The experience: velvet-smooth, dry and roasty, with coffee and dark chocolate notes and a clean bitter finish. History: Arthur Guinness signed a 9,000-year lease on Dublin's St. James's Gate brewery in 1759 — a fine symbol of confidence — and his stout became Ireland's most recognized drink on Earth.

Japan's ancient rice brew — not a spirit but a fermented drink of polished rice, water, koji and yeast, as deep and varied as wine. Ingredients: sake rice polished to remove outer layers (the finest daiginjo grades polish away half the grain or more), pure water, koji mold that converts rice starch to sugar, and yeast. Method: 1) Steam the polished rice, cultivate koji on part of it, and ferment everything together in a rare parallel fermentation. 2) Press, filter and pasteurize. 3) Serve chilled in a small ochoko cup poured from a tokkuri flask — or gently warmed for richer styles. The experience: from bone-dry and crisp to fragrant, fruity and umami-deep. History: sake has been brewed for over a thousand years and remains woven into Shinto ceremony — weddings, New Year and the breaking of a sake barrel lid, kagami biraki, to bless new beginnings.

Scotland's discipline, Japan's soul: Japanese whisky is famed for precision, purity and balance — and for winning the world's top whisky honors. Ingredients: malted barley and grains, pristine water, yeast, and time in oak — including rare mizunara, Japan's own fragrant oak. Method: 1) Distill in the Scottish pot-still tradition that founder Masataka Taketsuru learned in Scotland. 2) Age in bourbon, sherry or mizunara casks. 3) Serve neat, mizuwari (with chilled water), or as a sparkling highball over crystal-clear ice. The experience: elegant and meticulous — honey, citrus, incense-like sandalwood from mizunara, and a finish of extraordinary length. History: Suntory built Japan's first malt distillery, Yamazaki, in 1923 with Taketsuru's help; he later founded Nikka in 1934. A century on, their rivalry defines an industry.

Japan's quiet giant: a distilled spirit of sweet potato, barley, rice or buckwheat, lighter than whisky and made to accompany food. Ingredients: a base ingredient — imo (sweet potato), mugi (barley), kome (rice) or soba (buckwheat) — plus koji and water. Method: 1) Ferment the koji-sweetened base, then distill once (honkaku shochu) to keep the ingredient's character. 2) Rest and dilute to about 25% alcohol. 3) Serve oyu-wari (cut with hot water), on the rocks, or with cold water — the order of pouring changes the aroma. The experience: earthy and expressive — roasted sweet potato, clean barley, delicate rice — soft in alcohol but big in flavor. History: shochu has been distilled in Kyushu for some 500 years and is the everyday spirit of southern Japan; in recent decades it has rivaled even sake in domestic popularity.

The world's most celebrated brandy, double-distilled from the wines of one small French town and aged in oak until it turns to amber silk. Ingredients: grapes — mainly Ugni Blanc — grown in the delimited Cognac region, fermented into a light, acidic wine. Method: 1) Distill the wine twice in copper Charentais pot stills, keeping only the heart of the second distillation. 2) Age in Limousin and Tronçais oak — VS at least two years, VSOP at least four, XO at least ten. 3) Blend eaux-de-vie of many ages and serve neat in a tulip glass, cradled so the hand warms it gently. The experience: dried apricot, fig, vanilla, rancio nuttiness and an endless finish. History: Dutch traders began distilling the region's wines in the 1600s so they would survive the sea voyage; the AOC of 1936 locked the name to this one place on Earth.

The wine of celebration itself — true Champagne comes only from France's Champagne region, and its bubbles are born inside the bottle. Ingredients: Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and Pinot Meunier grapes from chalky northern vineyards. Method: 1) Make a still base wine, blend across grapes, villages and years, and bottle it with yeast and sugar. 2) A second fermentation in the bottle creates the bubbles; the wine then rests on its lees — at least 15 months by law, fine houses age far longer. 3) Disgorge the yeast, dose, cork, and serve well chilled in a tulip or flute. The experience: razor-fine bubbles, citrus, white flowers, brioche and chalk — joy with a mineral spine. History: tradition credits the monk Dom Pérignon with refining its craft in the late 1600s; by the 1800s Champagne was the toast of every court in Europe, and it still opens every celebration that matters.

France's oldest brandy — older than Cognac by a century or more — rustic, soulful and proudly unfashionable, from the rolling hills of Gascony. Ingredients: white grapes — Ugni Blanc, Baco, Folle Blanche, Colombard — from the delimited Armagnac region in southwest France. Method: 1) Distill the wine once, continuously, in the unique Armagnac alembic — a small column still that keeps more of the wine's character than Cognac's double distillation. 2) Age in local black oak; uniquely among great brandies, fine Armagnac is often bottled from a single vintage year. 3) Serve neat after dinner, in a small tulip glass. The experience: deeper and earthier than Cognac — prune, walnut, spice and leather. History: records show distillation in Gascony by the early 1400s; the locals, d'Artagnan's countrymen, have kept it small, family-made and fiercely Gascon ever since.

Havana in a tall glass: white rum, mint, lime and soda — the most refreshing cocktail Cuba ever gave the world. Ingredients: Cuban-style white rum, fresh mint leaves, lime, sugar (or sugar syrup), soda water, lots of ice. Method: 1) Gently press the mint with sugar and lime juice in a highball glass — wake the leaves up, never shred them. 2) Add the rum and stir to dissolve the sugar. 3) Fill with ice, top with soda, and crown with a mint sprig. The experience: cool, green and sparkling — a sea breeze off the Malecón. History: the mojito's ancestry is often traced to “El Draque,” a 16th-century Havana mix of aguardiente, mint and lime; the modern rum version rose to fame in Havana's bars, above all La Bodeguita del Medio, and never left.

Rum and cola with a battle cry: the Cuba Libre is a toast to freedom that became one of the world's most-ordered drinks. Ingredients: Cuban-style rum (white or gold), cola, fresh lime, ice. Method: 1) Fill a tall glass with ice. 2) Pour in the rum and cola. 3) Squeeze in a generous wedge of lime — the lime is not optional; it is what separates a Cuba Libre from a plain rum and cola — and drop it in. The experience: caramel cola lifted by citrus and the clean snap of rum — simple, cold, endlessly drinkable. History: it was born in Havana around 1900, just after the Spanish-American War, when American cola met Cuban rum and an officer is said to have raised his glass to a free Cuba — “¡Por Cuba libre!” The name stuck to the drink forever.

The purest test of a bartender: rum, lime and sugar, shaken into an icy, electric balance — Cuba's elegant contribution to cocktail perfection. Ingredients: white rum, fresh lime juice, fine sugar or syrup, ice — nothing more. Method: 1) Shake all three hard with ice until the shaker frosts. 2) Strain into a chilled coupe. 3) For the frozen Hemingway-era style, blend with crushed ice into a fine snow. The experience: bright, bracing and silky — citrus and cane in perfect tension. History: the daiquirí is commonly credited to American mining engineer Jennings Cox, who mixed it near Daiquirí beach, Cuba, around 1898; Havana's El Floridita bar and its legendary cantinero Constantino Ribalaigua perfected it, and Ernest Hemingway made its frozen version famous.

America's native spirit by act of Congress: a corn-rich whiskey aged in brand-new charred oak, tasting of vanilla, caramel and frontier sunshine. Ingredients: a mash of at least 51% corn (the rest rye, wheat and malted barley), limestone-filtered Kentucky water, yeast. Method: 1) Ferment and distill the sweet corn mash. 2) Age in new, charred oak barrels — the char cracks the wood and gives bourbon its color and its vanilla-caramel soul; by law the barrels are used only once. 3) Serve neat, over one large ice cube, or in a classic cocktail. The experience: sweet corn up front, then caramel, vanilla, baking spice and warm oak. History: Kentucky's distillers — many of Scots-Irish descent — built bourbon along the Ohio River in the late 1700s; in 1964 Congress declared it “a distinctive product of the United States.”

The original cocktail — quite literally: the first written definition of the word “cocktail” in 1806 describes exactly this drink. Ingredients: bourbon or rye whiskey, a sugar cube or rich syrup, Angostura bitters, an orange peel, ice. Method: 1) Soak the sugar with bitters and a splash of water in a tumbler and stir to dissolve. 2) Add the whiskey and a large ice cube; stir until cold and silky. 3) Express the orange peel over the glass and drop it in. The experience: spirit-forward and timeless — whiskey deepened, not disguised, with citrus oils glowing over warm spice. History: through the 1800s this was simply how a cocktail was made; when bartenders began adding everything else, traditionalists demanded theirs “old-fashioned.” Legend also ties it to Louisville's Pendennis Club in the 1880s — either way, it never went out of style.

The taste of the Kentucky Derby: bourbon and mint over a mountain of crushed ice, sweating in a silver cup. Ingredients: Kentucky bourbon, fresh mint leaves, sugar or syrup, crushed ice — and, traditionally, a silver or pewter julep cup. Method: 1) Gently muddle mint with sugar in the cup — bruise, don't tear. 2) Add bourbon and fill the cup heaped with crushed ice. 3) Stir until the cup frosts, then crown with a fragrant bouquet of mint and a short straw, so your nose is in the mint as you sip. The experience: arctic-cold, bracingly minty, with bourbon's caramel warmth rising underneath. History: juleps were iced southern refreshers long before they met the racetrack; the Mint Julep has been the Kentucky Derby's signature drink since 1939, with well over a hundred thousand served across Derby weekend at Churchill Downs.

Florence's crimson icon: equal parts gin, Campari and sweet vermouth — bitter, bold and effortlessly elegant, the king of the Italian aperitivo. Ingredients: gin, Campari, sweet red vermouth, an orange peel, one large ice cube. Method: 1) Pour the three spirits in equal measure over the ice in a tumbler. 2) Stir briefly until cold. 3) Express the orange peel over the top and rest it on the rim. The experience: a perfect three-way tension — juniper, bittersweet orange and herbal vermouth — that opens the appetite like nothing else. History: the story goes that in 1919 Count Camillo Negroni asked Florence's Caffè Casoni to strengthen his Americano by swapping soda for gin; the Negroni family soon bottled the invention, and a century later Negroni Week is celebrated in bars around the world.

Italy's bitter poetry: a whole family of herbal liqueurs, each a secret garden of roots, bark, flowers and spice, sipped to close a meal. Ingredients: dozens of botanicals — gentian, wormwood, orange peel, rhubarb, Alpine herbs — macerated in spirit or wine, sweetened, and rested; every house guards its recipe. Styles range from the honeyed Averna of Sicily to Milan's intensely bitter Fernet-Branca (1845). Method: 1) Pour neat, at room temperature, in a small glass after eating. 2) Or over one ice cube with an orange twist for a softer serve. The experience: bittersweet, medicinal in the best way — the meal settles, the conversation lengthens. History: monasteries and apothecaries infused digestive herbs for centuries; in the 1800s Italian firms turned the tradition into an industry, and no Italian dinner is truly finished without one.

Italy's firewater, refined: grappa is distilled from the pomace — the skins, seeds and stems left after winemaking — turning the harvest's leftovers into liquid gold. Ingredients: fresh grape pomace from a single variety or blend (today's fine grappas name their grape: Moscato, Nebbiolo, Prosecco), water, and the distiller's patience. Method: 1) Distill the fermented pomace promptly, in bain-marie or steam stills, to capture the grape's aromatics. 2) Rest in steel, or age in wood for golden riserva styles. 3) Serve in a small tulip glass, neat, at cool room temperature. The experience: intensely grapey and floral in youth; honeyed, nutty and deep when aged. History: grappa was the humble farmers' spirit of northern Italy — Bassano del Grappa is its symbolic home — until pioneering families in the 1970s showed the world that a single-variety grappa could stand beside fine brandy.

Peru's national cocktail: a cloud of citrus foam over grape brandy, crowned with three drops of bitters — tart, silky and gloriously proud. Ingredients: Peruvian pisco, fresh lime juice (the small, fierce Peruvian limón), sugar syrup, egg white, ice, and Angostura bitters for the crown. Method: 1) Shake pisco, lime, syrup and egg white first without ice to build the foam, then with ice to chill. 2) Strain into a chilled glass. 3) Finish with drops of bitters on the foam — the signature flourish. The experience: a perfect sour — bright lime, grape-bright pisco, and a meringue-soft top. History: the pisco sour is commonly credited to American bartender Victor Vaughen Morris, who mixed it at his Lima bar in the 1920s; Peru loves it so officially that the first Saturday of every February is Día del Pisco Sour, a national holiday for a cocktail.

The soul inside the sour: pisco is Peru's grape brandy, distilled to proof in the desert valleys of Ica and never touched by wood. Ingredients: wine grapes — aromatic Italia and Torontel, or the sturdy, earthy Quebranta — fermented into wine in Peru's coastal valleys. Method: 1) Distill the fresh wine once, in copper stills, and — uniquely — bottle it at the strength it leaves the still, with no water added. 2) Rest it at least three months in neutral vessels (never oak, by Peruvian law) so the grape speaks pure. 3) Serve neat in small glasses, or build a sour or chilcano. The experience: intensely grapey and floral, dry and clean — wine's vineyard soul, concentrated. History: Spanish colonists were distilling grape brandy around the port of Pisco by the late 1500s; the spirit took the port's name and sailed the Pacific from there.

Lima's tall, sparkling refresher: pisco and ginger ale over ice — older in bar lore than the sour, and the drink Peruvians actually order all summer. Ingredients: Peruvian pisco, ginger ale, fresh lime juice, Angostura bitters, plenty of ice, a lime wheel. Method: 1) Fill a highball glass with ice. 2) Add pisco, lime and a dash of bitters. 3) Top with ginger ale, stir once, and garnish with lime. The experience: crisp, gingery and dangerously refreshing — pisco's grape brightness stretched long and cold. History: the chilcano shares its name with a beloved Peruvian fish-head soup said to cure hangovers — the cocktail borrows the name and the restorative reputation. Every January, Lima celebrates the Semana del Chilcano, a whole week in its honor.

Brazil's national cocktail: cachaça, lime and sugar muddled into a rough, radiant, ice-cold refresher — samba in a glass. Ingredients: cachaça, one whole lime cut into wedges, granulated sugar, ice cubes. Method: 1) Muddle the lime wedges with the sugar in a sturdy tumbler — press hard to release the peel's oils, which are half the flavor. 2) Add the cachaça and stir. 3) Fill the glass to the top with ice and serve with a short straw. The experience: tart, sweet, grassy and electric — the lime oils and cane spirit hit together, then melt into balance as the ice opens it up. History: country people in São Paulo state were mixing cachaça with lime and sugar long before it had a famous name — a folk remedy turned national symbol; today no Brazilian beach day, barbecue or festa is complete without one.

Brazil's cane spirit: distilled from fresh sugarcane juice — not molasses — which gives it a grassy, vibrant character all its own. Ingredients: freshly pressed sugarcane juice, water, yeast; aged styles rest in barrels of Brazilian woods like amburana, balsam and jequitibá, as well as oak. Method: 1) Ferment the fresh cane juice within hours of pressing. 2) Distill — in copper alembic stills for artisanal cachaça (the pride of Minas Gerais), or in columns for lighter styles. 3) Serve unaged cachaça ice-cold in shots with lime, or sip aged expressions neat like fine rum. The experience: green, tropical and alive — fresh cane, banana leaf, white pepper; aged versions turn honeyed and spiced. History: cachaça has been made in Brazil since the 1500s, making it one of the oldest spirits of the Americas; today it stands among the most consumed spirits on Earth, most of it joyfully drunk at home.

Brazil's blended beach party: cachaça whirred with fruit and condensed milk into a creamy, tropical shake for grown-ups. Ingredients: cachaça, fruit — coconut, passion fruit (maracujá), strawberry or pineapple — sweetened condensed milk, ice, sometimes a touch of lime or coconut milk. Method: 1) Blend cachaça, fruit and condensed milk with ice until thick and frothy. 2) Pour into a tall glass and serve immediately, with a straw. The experience: a boozy tropical milkshake — lush, sweet and refreshing, led by whichever fruit went into the blender. History: “batida” means “beaten” or “shaken” in Portuguese, and batidas became fixtures of Brazil's beach kiosks and festas in the 20th century; the batida de coco, snowy white and coconut-rich, is the beloved classic of the family.