I started drinking piña coladas as a child. They were alcohol free, obviously, and my parents allowed me to order as many of them as I wanted at Frankie’s, our local red-sauce Italian restaurant. Why did a red-sauce spot in metro Atlanta serve piña coladas? I don’t know. But I was hooked from that first sip — and I still am.
I simply love coconut in every iteration, even its divisive seltzer form. (A coconut La Croix sipped right out of the fridge is so life-affirming, don’t @ me.) Piña coladas taste exactly how the best summer days feel: sweet and sunny and easygoing. I would love to solely dedicate this newsletter to the cocktail, but I’ve been instructed by my editor, Mark, to include food options as this newsletter is apparently about dining. You win, Mark.
A piña colada — and a chicken sandwich
When in search of a piña colada, a bar espousing tiki culture is usually your best bet. That’s what brought me to Tiki Chick, an airy corner spot that looks like it just washed up onto Amsterdam Avenue, though it’s been around since 2019. It’s from the same restaurant group behind Jacob’s Pickles, so expect a fair amount of kitsch and the inappropriate use of pickle juice.
You’re going to be tempted to order the restaurant’s viral pickle painkiller. But it’s actually too pickle forward — and this is coming from someone who swears by the pickle brine margarita. Just stick to the piña colada served in a tall, curvy glass and made with two kinds of rum. It put me into a bit of a tipsy stupor that even a saucy and surprisingly affordable ($5!) hot honey chicken sandwich with an appropriate amount of pickles on it couldn’t ward off. Then again, what’s better than riding the subway with a bit of a buzz going?
517 Amsterdam Avenue (West 85th Street)
A piña colada — and a platter of oysters
Maison Premiere is one of those places that’s been around so long, a persistent reminder of 2010s Williamsburg, that you might not have thought about it in a while. But it’s still kicking and when you go, it’s important to remember that Maison Premiere is a cocktail bar first, a raw bar second and a restaurant third. Which is no shade to the menu, it’s just that they’re very, very good at the first two.
So grab a seat at the U-shaped bar, order a dozen oysters — the list is organized from briny East Coast to creamy West Coast — and then ask for their piña colada. This version is not frozen, but it’s definitely one of the more visually arresting takes: It’s theatrically served in a young coconut emblazoned with an “M,” crowned with mint leaves and spritzed with navy-strength rum because mixology. (I would love to meet the person whose job it is to brand the young coconuts every day before service.) It may not have the broad appeal of a frozen piña colada, but it’s definitely one of the best crafted in the city.
298 Bedford Avenue (Grand Street)
A piña colada — and a plate of Spam musubi
Speaking of the theatrical: My “Where to Eat” co-writer, Becky Hughes, has a very special power. She has an encyclopedic knowledge of every wacky, over-the-top bar in New York, and referred me to Paradise Lost, a two-year-old tiki bar hidden behind a red curtain on Second Avenue. To enter, you ring a door bell and check in with a host, who sends you down a dark hallway bedecked in tropical leaves and through a door covered in faux fur.
What awaits is a bar with the production value of a Broadway show — like “Pirates of Penzance” with shades of “Legends of the Hidden Temple.” Luckily, Paradise Lost isn’t all style. In addition to booze-forward cocktails — including a killer frozen piña colada served in a coconut milk can — they have a small menu of Asian-influenced snacks. I enjoyed the Spam musubi and the “krab” rangoon dip, though the wonton chips it’s served with are far too delicate for any kind of serious dipping. Not a problem, though. In my mind, I’m already on the beach.
100 Second Avenue (East Sixth Street)
