Born in the 1970s, the Jungle Bird has transformed over the decades from a drink ahead of its time into a certified modern classic. The ornately garnished, tropically inspired, red-hued mix of Campari, blackstrap rum, and fresh pineapple and lime has grown from a curiosity (it’s one of the only classic tiki-style drinks to feature Campari) to a tiki bar standard that’s also now a well-regarded regular on cocktail bar menus around the world.
Usually served in a double old-fashioned glass over ice (whether cubes, a big rock, or smaller pebbles), the drink has an undeniable maple-like flavor from the rum, backed by a tropical acidity with frothy pineapple juice and fresh lime. But what sets the Jungle Bird apart—and unites it in delicious ways—is the herbal, bittersweet backbone of Campari running through the cocktail. The distinctive, vibrant color is part of the allure of the drink—it stands out the way a Negroni does, and everyone who sees one wants one.
“The Jungle Bird is one of the great successes of the tiki and tropical drink revival. It’s crossed over into mainstream cocktail culture the same way the Mai Tai did in the 1950s,” says Garret Richard, the chief cocktail officer at downtown Brooklyn’s Sunken Harbor Club. The fact that the Jungle Bird is equally at home in a tricked-out tiki lounge as it is in a moody cocktail bar speaks to the drink's inherent appeal and adaptable nature. According to Richard, at its best, the Jungle Bird can “embody the perfect hybrid between juicy and bitter,” bridging the satisfaction of sipping a simple, sunset-hued Garibaldi with the fun of a Blue Hawaii.
The Jungle Bird debuted on the menu at the Aviary Bar in the Hilton Hotel in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, in the mid-to-late 1970s (it’s disputed whether it was 1973 or 1978). The drink, created by the hotel’s beverage manager, Jeffrey Ong See Teik, called for dark rum, Campari, pineapple juice, lime juice, and simple syrup. The name is said to have been inspired by a collection of colorful tropical birds kept in a fenced-in aviary by the hotel pool within view of guests seated at the bar, as well as the bird-shaped vessel it was said to have been served in.
The Jungle Bird’s first appearance in a cocktail book was the 1989 paperback, The New American Bartender’s Guide by John J. Poister, but it took on more attention internationally when it was included in Jeff “Beachbum” Berry’s 2002 book, Intoxica!. Poister’s recipe includes “dark rum” while Berry’s adaptation is more specific, calling for “dark Jamaican rum.”
But in 2010, the Jungle Bird was overhauled by bartender Giuseppe González at the short-lived tropical bar Painkiller/PKNY in New York. González played up the presence of Campari and called for a deep, dark, and robust blackstrap rum to counterbalance Campari’s bitter profile while pulling back on the pineapple juice. This version of the recipe was soon adopted at Sasha Petraske’s influential New York City bars Milk & Honey and Little Branch. The drink’s runaway popularity coincided with a renewed interest in both the rum category and Campari.
Because of the popularity of González’s version, these days blackstrap rum typically makes an appearance in most of the Jungle Birds you’ll see in the wild at bars and in cocktail books. But while some argue that it’s become a signature ingredient of the drink that works well in this context, others believe the polarizing style of rum should be discarded, due its reputation as an industrialized product with added flavoring agents and sweeteners.
Blackstrap—a molasses-heavy, pitch-black young rum with a robust, slightly vegetal flavor redolent of black licorice and toffee—is hard to replace. But bartenders are increasingly experimenting with swapping out blackstrap or supplementing it with a layered rum blend. “I don’t think blackstrap rum has any place in a Jungle Bird. It should be strong, bitter, and bright,” says Kevin Beary, the beverage director of the Chicago tiki bar Three Dots and a Dash, who prefers a clear and pungent unaged overproof Jamaican pot-still rum such as Rum-Bar Overproof.
Will Thompson, the co-owner of Jaguar Sun, a tropical-inspired bar in Miami, is also not a fan of blackstrap (“On its best days it’s quite gross,” he says) and prefers using a blend of Jamaican and Bajan rums, or even a grassy unaged agricole, or charanda from Michoacán for its savory-sweet, slightly earthy qualities. But for William Elliott, managing partner and bar director at Maison Premiere in Brooklyn, blackstrap still has a place in the bar’s house Jungle Bird—just supplemented with a Hamilton Jamaican Pot Still Black Rum, which brings along its funky, aromatic, overripe banana quality and grassy complexity. “Blackstrap rum is an industrially made, very derivative rum, but there’s no replacing that maple, molasses, baking spice element we’ve come to associate with a Jungle Bird,” he says. “At the end of the day it works in its context.”
In addition to the rum question, Richard stresses that making a great Jungle Bird requires paying attention to all the small details. “It traditionally only has five ingredients—a small number for a tiki drink—therefore your choice of each element will significantly impact the final product,” he says. “Are you using fresh pineapple juice? Is the cocktail on a big rock or crushed ice? Are you blending rums or sticking to just one? Maximizing the sour, sweet, strong, bitter, and weak elements of the Jungle Bird will give you the best cocktail.”
While you will see Jungle Bird riffs using the bitter French liqueur Suze or swapping in another Italian or domestic red bitter, most bartenders agree there’s no replacing the distinctive bite of Campari. “It’s kind of like being a little kid and asking your parents for a Coke and having them come back with a store-brand soda,” says Thompson. “There are some good unique bitters that can work well, but you depart from being a Jungle Bird pretty quickly at that point.”
Most bartenders emphasize the value of using fresh-pressed pineapple juice, which offers bright, aromatic richness, frothiness, and a burst of acidity that can't be replicated by a canned or frozen product. “Texturally, and flavor-wise, it’s everything,” says Elliott. “To me it’s imperative. No pineapple liqueur, no can of Dole.” At Sunken Harbor Club, they double down on the pineapple flavor by also swapping in a pineapple gum syrup in place of standard simple or demerara syrup.
Beary at Three Dots and a Dash recommends shaking your Jungle Bird using a two-by-two-inch ice cube to enhance the fluffiness of the pineapple and deliver a light pineapple froth on the head of the finished drink. At Maison Premiere, even the pineapple garnish is elevated by getting a bittersweet soak in Campari, which stains the wedge with a blush of scarlet red bitters. The Jungle Bird, like other cocktails made at home, benefits from using fresh juices, cold, clean ice, and a chilled glass. I’ve taken to keeping my bottle of Campari in the freezer for all applications, and beyond the extreme chill, there’s a subtle textural change in viscosity that’s especially at home in a Jungle Bird.
“It’s important to remember that this Bird has evolved over time,” says Richard. “The idea of a classic Jungle Bird is largely a contradiction. We don’t know what this drink might look like a few years from now.”
