Imagine yourself in 1950s Havana, Cuba.

The floor-to-ceiling palm trees in the bar are gently swaying in the ceiling fan breeze. The place is packed with men in white suits and Panama hats and women in fitted, low-cut dresses. Or maybe Josephine Baker is purring seductively at you and the swank crowd in a nightclub. As the glamorous world plays itself out, you stand sipping on a cold, refreshing and tangy rum daiquiri.

Sadly, with the lasting 1960s trade embargo, Havana is but a dilapidated, muted vision of its former glory. The popular American association with daiquiris is of a sweet, frozen, blended pink concoction. Back in the day, this was a real drink.