The Pineapple Daiquiri, served on the rocks, is documented on Difford's Guide's tiki/tropical directory; no independently corroborated creator or date survives for this specific version. It belongs to the wide family of pineapple-forward daiquiri variations that circulate in modern craft-bar recipe collections — a lineage that runs back to the classic Cuban daiquiri credited to engineer Jennings Cox around 1900, but the pineapple-and-rocks treatment itself reads as a contemporary refinement rather than a drink with a founding bartender or bar attached to it.
Rum and pineapple were always going to end up in the same glass eventually.
A Modern Branch of an Old Family Tree
The daiquiri's core formula — rum, citrus, sweetener — is over a century old and endlessly forkable, which is exactly what happened here. Strawberry, banana, and hemingway-style grapefruit versions all get their own names and histories; the pineapple version is one of the family's most straightforward branches, adding fruit juice in place of some of the sugar rather than reinventing the structure.
What makes this particular listing distinct from the frozen pineapple daiquiris more common on menus is the serve: built and shaken like a standard daiquiri, then poured over ice in a rocks glass instead of blended into a slush. It reads closer to a tropical variation on a Daiquiri on the Rocks than to a frozen-blender drink.
The Spec
Light rum, fresh lime, pineapple juice, and a rich syrup, shaken hard and strained over ice rather than up — the pineapple juice does double duty as both fruit flavor and part of the sweetening, so the added syrup stays light.
Why on the rocks, not frozen
A frozen pineapple daiquiri mutes the rum and the citrus snap under a slush of crushed ice. Shaking and straining this one over solid ice keeps the drink cold without diluting it as fast, so the rum and lime stay in front instead of getting buried under blended fruit.
Let the pineapple do the sweetening
Pineapple juice is already fairly sweet on its own, which is why the added rich syrup here is a smaller pour than in a standard daiquiri. Oversweeten it and the drink stops tasting like rum and citrus and starts tasting like juice.
Bottom Line
No named inventor to credit and no founding-bar story to tell — just a clean, honest fruiting-up of the daiquiri that earns its place by doing the fundamentals well: good rum, real lime, real pineapple, poured over ice instead of blended into a slush.