Red Lobster Signature Cocktails, Ranked Worst To Best

For most, Red Lobster, founded in Lakeland, Florida in 1968, is synonymous with its (in)famous promise of Endless Shrimp dinners, live lobster tanks in its restaurant lobbies, and a dizzying array of ocean-inspired offerings. Its beverage menu, a laminated ordeal focused primarily on sweetened drinks riffing on tiki and beachy cocktails, remained a sugar-laden mystery to my dining companions and me when we ventured out to our nearest Red Lobster — one of the outposts that survived the fast-casual chain's Chapter 11 bankruptcy declaration in 2024 – to try and rank its offerings. 

Thanks to former P.F. Chang's CEO Damola Adamolekun, the near-future of Red Lobster seems tentatively secure. Prior to the takeover, Red Lobster shuttered nearly 100 of its storefronts. Now, under new leadership, the chain is hopeful to keep its 500-plus locations afloat. And since many restaurants' margins rely on returns from beverage — specifically cocktail — markups, Red Lobster may need to lean on its bar program more than ever. 

But what does a diner wash down the coveted flesh of butter-dunked lobsters, king crab, shrimp, and the brand's famous Cheddar Bay Biscuits with? I sipped through each one of Red Lobster's signature cocktails and ranked them based on their taste. Somehow, I emerged level-headed enough to write about my experience with its tropical-leaning librations.

From the menu's description alone, I expected Red Lobster's mango martini to play into my taste like a tiny poodle in one of Paris Hilton's handbags. Still, the Absolut vodka, Grand Marnier, and mango puree concoction stunned me in all the wrong ways the moment it kissed my lips. What should present as a traditional gimlet variation, or an amber-hued mango cosmopolitan, arrived muddily murky, already separating, and thick enough to compare it to a candy-like gazpacho or a mango sweet and sour sauce.

I questioned why the mango martini made it on the menu at all. The drink yearned for a balancing bite of citrus (specifically lime), and the Absolut vodka's tasting notes remained omnipresent in every sip. It's sickening in texture, as the mango puree proves too dense for a barely-shaken cocktail. There's no ice or juice to balance out the weightiness of the mango. If the mango element would've taken the form of an infusion, or the cocktail was retooled into a margarita-esque drink, then it might have legs. But as is, you should run far away from this blunder of a menu item.

Admittedly, a Long Island iced tea is one of the drinks I side-eye. The medley of vodka, gin, rum, tequila, and triple sec, finished with cola, never appealed to my more restrained (and hangover-dreading) tastes. Though I braced myself for a gut punch of sweetness and heavy-handed booze, my tongue was met with a soggy parade of unpronounced flavors and watered-down Coca-Cola. 

Surprisingly, the drink often associated with spring break melees arrived sweating in a simple pint glass with a single lemon wedge perched on its rim. It's visually indistinguishable from a run-of-the-mill iced tea, and none of the spirits broke through the soda veil and made their presence known. Though relief briefly washed over me as I realized the threat of an a.m. headache might actually be avoided, it also dawned on me that Red Lobster might just be using a disappointingly low amount of alcohol, despite the drink's "top-shelf" status. Citrus would've bolstered the cocktail's quality. In the place of fresh lemon juice or lemonade, I suspect Red Lobster shot a sub-par, pre-mixed lemonade into this pathetic pint glass. This beverage, as uninventive as it is disappointing, can't rise to the middling expectation of a well-made Long Island iced tea. 

Red Lobster's Lobster Punch, hands-down the most regrettably named cocktail of the bunch, landed at my table in an unceremonious pint glass garnished with an unripe, hard pineapple wedge. Whole blackberries floated on a pool of ice next to the fruit wedge. 

Like too many of the restaurant's mixed drinks made juice and booze, the Lobster Punch appeared nearly ombre, as the cocktail's lower half boasted a significantly deeper, plum-like color than the upper half's ruddy pink. Though I was able to jostle around a straw and remedy the half-hearted attempt at properly mixing the drink, the lack of effort left an impression as I continually swirled my plastic straw while trying to simultaneously sip from it. 

The spiced and coconut rum cocktail, once combined, adeptly hid the sting of Captain Morgan's rum but never landed on a solid or defined flavor profile. The end result tasted akin to a last minute dorm room attempt at cocktailing — thrown into an oversized Stanley product on the way to a party with whatever its drinkers could scrounge up from their mini-fridge. Drinkable but unexciting, the Lobster Punch caused me to daydream of a more fitting drink for its title. Perhaps, a more daring cocktail, like a super-garnished michelada or a seafood-focused bloody mary (both of which were noticeably absent from the menu), would have been a better fit. As is, the Lobster Punch punched in far below it should've, due to its murky mixture of booze and its weak, watery flavor. 

Red Lobster's Tito's twisted strawberry lemonade is a cocktail fit for a newly-minted drinker. However, it doesn't have the same pizzazz I've gotten from other chains' lemonades, even the non-alcoholic ones. Red Robin's strawberry lemonade, for example, is bottomless, studded with macerated strawberries, and surpasses this nearly $11 cocktail in every regard. Red Lobster's citrus and berry concoction includes what I suspect is a paltry amount of a somewhat-coveted American vodka, Tito's, but the lemonade substance itself reeks of missed opportunity.

In place of chunks of real strawberries or a seeded puree, I sipped on another devastatingly separated drink that seemingly contained a dense strawberry flavoring that lacked the tart and fresh notes or the real thing. Asking for seeds or texture might be too much, considering Red Lobster's dedication to pre-made mixes, but its presence would have been met with much appreciation after my run-in with its other middling cocktails. The lemonade itself tasted flabby and watered-down, leaving me with a drink I wouldn't even be proud of even if I mixed it in a multiplex's bathroom. It's a good idea, but sloppily constructed. I'd be happy to order it again if it was made with actual berries. 

The prospect of a classic margarita sparked my interest immediately. Even the vessel for the Patrón-laden drink struck a nostalgic nerve. It arrived in an exaggerated, thick glass vessel adorned with an azure rim coated in flaky salt. Upon arrival, I also spotted a shot glass-sized sidecar appendage neatly affixed to the colossal mouth. It was filled precariously with Grand Marnier, which is intended to be drizzled over the cocktail.

While admittedly a touch of showmanship, the chintzy miniature cup reminded me of how Red Lobster seems to prioritize appearance over function. Though I admire the party trick, I couldn't help but acknowledge the lack of meshing between the sweet, orange liquor and the margarita. Like the chain's top-shelf Long Island iced tea, ice dominated this margarita, which both watered it down — since the mouth of my oversized margarita glass boasted the circumference of a soup bowl — and made it more difficult to sip. 

Once the drink met with my tongue, I noticed that the fresh lime juice I was hoping for had been swapped out with an unfortunate margarita mix that lacked punch and levity. The drink's premium tequila felt slightly wasted on a shabby shortcut. What could've sat at the very top of Red Lobster's cocktail offerings stumbled to the middle due to the cloying nature of the margarita mix and misguided ice chunks. 

Finally: a drink that layers felt entirely intentional. Red Lobster's Under the Purple Sea puts to use a somewhat hokey mixologist flare to create a magical color-changing cocktail. An extravagantly lanky glass of Tito's, watermelon (flavoring), and lime comes with a sidecar of cobalt blue butterfly tea perched on its rim. This sidecar is made from the vibrant petals of the Clitoria ternatea flower (grown in Asia's tropical climates). Once combined with the pallid cocktail, it transforms into a Barbie-esque, fuchsia pink beverage as quickly as Cinderella's shabby work dress morphs into a ballgown. The butterfly tea sidecar is also laced with edible gold, which causes the drink to glimmer in a final flutter of sorcery.

Flavor-wise, the vodka conquers all the other elements of the drink. Like the chain's other vodka-based cocktails, it lands on the tongue with a pedestrian tone. But the overall presentation of the drink, matched with its cutesy gimmick and overt ask of its drinker to further stir the cocktail themselves, manages to bob above the midway point of Red Lobster's drink offerings, though barely. Still, the color-changing flourish charmed me into gifting the Red Lobster team a couple of points due to the interactive nature of Under the Purple Sea's presentation.  

This racily-titled and tall piña colada prompts coconut-drink lovers to pick between a strawberry, raspberry, or mango topper. I picked the former for two essential reasons: I already had the mango martini, and I figured the strawberry would dye the drink a pleasing pink color. The one difference between this beverage and others on the menu is that the strawberry streaked the sides of the glass, as opposed to floating atop the icy beverage.

This stylistic choice ultimately came to the drink's benefit. The strawberry ribbons were strewn evenly throughout the piña colada-esque beverage, and the fact that this drink was blended gave it a pleasant aeration. The Sunset Passion took on a silky quality, and, though slightly reminiscent of sunscreen, the artificial coconut flavoring didn't overpower the drink. It also didn't taste overly sweet, which may have been due to the pulverized ice. The sugar that was there dissipated nicely on the palate, and the placement of a piña colada feels both obligatory and enticing on a menu like Red Lobster's. Although I dinged it slightly for its sunscreen-like aftertaste, the drink still exceeded my expectations for a chain restaurant's blended drink. 

The mocha espresso martini is a caffeinated liquid dessert that rings in at 360 calories. Though, don't let that scare you; the chain's interpretation of the popular espresso martini succeeds at being both the most clever and inventive cocktail on the seafood beverage list. I could do without the superfluous, nonuniform hunk of mediocre brownie skewered and dunked into the beverage, though. The drink, aside from the soggy garnish, drank like a tempting Starbucks concoction.

Comprised of RumChata (a cinnamon-heavy, horchata-like liqueur), Disaronno amaretto, and an espresso martini mix, Red Lobster manages to make all three mass-produced ingredients work in unison to deliver a smooth, balanced espresso martini on par (though less elegant) than many non-chain restaurant offerings of the same style of cocktail. The martini glass comes striped with chocolate syrup, and if it didn't come with that nonsensical, water-logged brownie, it would have ranked at the top. But the absurd — and frankly unsavory — inclusion sunk the mocha espresso martini just below the top three.

Red Lobster rounds out its vodka-heavy drink menu with a crimson Moscow mule interpretation. This beverage is dyed a deep blush, thanks to raspberry syrup and grapefruit-infused vodka.The Ruby Mule is in no way inventive; it functions like a familiar pop hit at a wedding reception. Simply put, Red Lobster knows how to play the hits when it comes to this beverage. 

Ginger beer, a key component of any mule, feels dialed back, likely because the spritz overwhelmed it with a lively combination of acid and sweetness. The raspberry element tasted more generically sweet with only a whisper of berry beneath its sugary edge. It successfully drowned out the Deep Eddy Ruby Red vodka's boozy bite. It was one of the only drinks I sipped enough times to hear the gurgle of the straw reaching for more liquid.

The ruby mule exists on Red Lobster's menu as a kind of no-brainer for guests wanting something familiar, not excessively sugary or underdeveloped. Served in a rocks-style glass, the mule variant also doesn't threaten to separate like the juice-based drinks dropped in pint glasses.

I expected that drinks like the Bahama Mama were going to rule the drink menu. Like the Sunset Passion colada, the Bahama Mama is blended before being served in a tall, playful glass garnished simply with an orange wedge and a single maraschino cherry. It's evocative of a poolside vacation libation. 

Captain Morgan spiced rum plays well with the ripe and tart tropical flavors. The blended drink had a great texture and an eye-catching burnt orange color. It's more lively than the Sunset Passion colada and could pass for a high-end tiki drink. Each sip rested on my tongue with an almost whipped quality. It didn't melt too quickly, and it lacks the wateriness I experienced with the lower-ranked cocktails. 

The drink contains 360 calories and it might be best shared among two diners milkshake-style. In any case, the drink is well worth the momentary embarrassment of uttering "Bahama Mama" to your polo-clad server.

The Main Deck margarita flight is like a stoplight made of candy syrup and tequila. The trio of short margaritas in pink (watermelon), passion fruit (orange), and Caribbean blue (blue Curaçao) are served on a wooden plank. These neon drinks smartly navigate the limitations of a corporate bar program and adhere to the generic appeal of chain restaurants.

The Main Deck margarita flight refuses to apologize for its basic, even cheugy charm. The mini-margs, which are all rimmed with salt (though the passion fruit glass receives the Tajín treatment), are also are shaken completely and stay intact until the final slurp. They're as festive of an addition to the menu as the plastic bibs adorned with a lobster illustration. Yes, the fruity components contained in each drink certainly take the form of a sticky syrup. And yes, like the Patrón margarita, this small set also lacks real lime juice. But instead of attempting to hide behind a name-brand spirit, the Main Deck flight kills you with the candy-like kindness chain restaurants are known for.

As always, I ranked Red Lobster's roster of cocktails based on their enjoyability, drawing on my experience as a bartender, former bar manager, and cocktail enthusiast. I only ordered the restaurant's core offering and omitted both the sangria and mocktails. To ensure I tasted each beverage at its peak, I asked for small clusters of drinks in episodic periods so no beverage sat longer than it should have. As I sipped, I looked at each drink's taste, presentation, execution, inventiveness, and adherence to the menu's description. I also made note of shortcomings such as poor construct, dilution, unbalanced notes, and unfortunate shortcuts that reduced the drink's enjoyability. 

Though I wrote critically of several of Red Lobster's cocktails (and their presentation), I remain confident that the bar team executed my drinks to their company's uniform instructions — as both the menu descriptions and visuals echo the beverages I was served. Notably, the number of cocktails I sampled seems like a steep amount to consume in a single sitting. To maintain both a stable state of mind and battle any palate fatigue, I sipped only the amount of cocktail necessary to form my opinion about it. Despite the number of beverages I consumed, I felt zero buzz, flush, or inebriation by the end of my dinner. Blame it on the Cheddar Bay Biscuits' ability to soak up the intoxicants, but (as stated earlier), I highly suspect Red Lobster only lightly doses its drinks.