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Palatable premix cocktails – well, ones that adults like, at least – are far and few between
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Food — Mina Holland
For somebody whose children recently learned how to crack open a tinnie, this week’s tasting was a perilous one. Cans covered in seductive, brightly coloured pictures of parasols, palm trees and their favourite fruits filled the kitchen, and both the seven- and the five-year-old tried to take a swig. Premix cocktails are disproportionately marketed to young drinkers – gateway booze, if you will, as the likes of Bacardi Breezer pineapple was for me – and often have a one-note, cloying taste. Absolut’s passionfruit martini and Malibu’s piña colada are cases in point: both have sugary, synthetic fruit flavours that mask, or even eliminate, the taste of the base spirits. Is it any wonder that, in 2024, Britain had the worst rate of child alcohol consumption in the world ? These drinks make it easy to forget that you’re even drinking alcohol.
Perhaps more than any other theme, writing about premix cocktails has made me confront the very question of why we drink alcohol. Take me as an example. My Bacardi Breezer years were undoubtedly a question of booze for function; it loosened my teenage inhibitions and I had a laugh. The fact that this so-called “alcopop” was so saccharine chimed with my childish predilection for sweetness, and conveniently masked the flavour of the rum, which may at the time have offended my uninitiated palate. Twenty-five years on, and my palate is a different place, and I welcome the notes and nuances of a well-mixed drink. I now drink alcohol to savour it, and I like what I’m drinking to give me pause; it doesn’t need to be hard work, but I do like it to make me think.
That’s not to say there aren’t premix cocktails out there that can do this, and I tasted several that I found interesting. The Reina Mezcalita in today’s pick, for instance, is delicious – smoky mezcal meets zippy lime soda – and I’d happily sip it from the can in the park or, even better, from a glass rimmed with Tajìn at home.
Whitebox and Moth both produce good iterations of premix drinks (and in reassuringly small, potent formats) and are widely available in supermarkets; they feel a bit more grown up, too, both on the sugar front and because their ABVs skew higher, which you can taste (in the premix realm, quality seems to align with a higher ABV).
Marks & Spencer has the widest own-brand selection, some of them better than others, but, on the whole, its premium Served range has more character and acidity (a good thing) than you’ll find elsewhere – I enjoyed the mojito and the lychee martini especially.
Spritz cocktails, meanwhile, work particularly well in cans. M&S’s limoncello one is a crowdpleaser, while Aperol Spritz To Go is everything you want and need it to be: a failsafe, bittersweet symphony.
Five canned cocktails worth cracking open
Whitebox Cosmo £5 (100ml) Ocado , 16.8%. Vodka, cranberry, lime and triple sec: cosmopolitans are making a comeback, and this one has me here for it.
Reina Mezcalita £4.99 (200ml) Mex Grocer , 10%. A smoky, citrussy delight, and my favourite of the lot.
M&S Served Mojito £3.35 (250ml) Ocado , 8%. Unlike this store’s cheaper premixes, this one has some complexity. Rum, mint and lime.
Aperol Spritz To Go £3 (250ml) Waitrose, 5% . Inarguably good and utterly dependable. Literally does what it says on the tin.
Moth Mango Margarita £4.15 (125ml) Waitrose, 14.9% . Ripe mangoes meet Tequila Enemigo and triple sec: 100% toothsome.
Perhaps more than any other theme, writing about premix cocktails has made me confront the very question of why we drink alcohol. Take me as an example. My Bacardi Breezer years were undoubtedly a question of booze for function; it loosened my teenage inhibitions and I had a laugh. The fact that this so-called “alcopop” was so saccharine chimed with my childish predilection for sweetness, and conveniently masked the flavour of the rum, which may at the time have offended my uninitiated palate. Twenty-five years on, and my palate is a different place, and I welcome the notes and nuances of a well-mixed drink. I now drink alcohol to savour it, and I like what I’m drinking to give me pause; it doesn’t need to be hard work, but I do like it to make me think.
This report is published with credit to The Guardian. Full available text from the wire is above. Read on The Guardian →
Source: The Guardian · Mina Holland. Published 3 Sept 2026, 12:00 pm.
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