The most widespread origin: mid-20th century, Bar Imperial, Santa Cruz de Tenerife. A regular named Sebastián Rubio, nicknamed "Barraco" (Portuguese for "shack"), ordered every day a special cortado — with condensed milk in a large glass, a small glass of Licor 43, a lemon zest and cinnamon. The bartender eventually named the drink after his customer. The Bar Imperial still exists, near Plaza de la Paz. Other versions attribute the invention to a waiter at a bar popular with artists in Santa Cruz. Whatever the truth, the barraquito spread across all the Canary Islands but remains unknown on the Spanish mainland — order one in Madrid and they'll look at you with wide eyes.
The order of ingredients matters: 1 tablespoon of sweetened condensed milk at the bottom of the glass, then a dash of Licor 43 (the Spanish liqueur with 43 botanicals — vanilla and citrus dominant), then the espresso poured slowly over the back of a spoon so as not to break the layers, then the foamy milk on top. Finish with a pinch of cinnamon and a lemon zest. The key: each layer has a different density, it's physics that does the work. Only stir when you're about to drink. Licor 43 is also available in large supermarkets in France; bringing back a bottle is a good souvenir.
The barraquito from La Gomera adds whipped cream. Some bars replace Licor 43 with Tía María (Jamaican coffee liqueur) — it's different but good. At the Cafetería La Paz in Vilaflor, the barraquito accompanied by their homemade almond cake is a formidable combination. And if you don't drink alcohol: the leche-leche (condensed milk + coffee + milk) is the sober cousin of the barraquito — just as Canarian, just less festive. There's even a song dedicated to the barraquito, by the Canarian group La Galería — search for it when you get home, you'll smile.