What People Drink in Israel: 6 Traditional Alcoholic Beverages

Israel’s drinking traditions reflect a Mediterranean climate, Levantine ingredients, and diverse diasporas. Grapes, figs, pomegranates, and citrus thrive from the Galilee to the Negev, shaping what ends up in the glass.

From coastal fish lunches to holiday tables, alcohol is woven into everyday meals and ritual moments. Expect anise spirits beside mezze, modern wines from ancient hills, and small-batch liqueurs rooted in religious and family customs.

Arak is Israel’s classic anise-flavored spirit, typically distilled from grapes (sometimes sugar-based) and redistilled with aniseed. Clear in the bottle, it turns milky when diluted due to anethole oils—a visual cue locals love. Most brands come in at 40–50% ABV. Quality arak is double or triple distilled, then rested to round out the licorice-fennel aromatics. The palate is dry, herbal, and slightly saline, with a cooling finish that cuts through rich, oily foods.

You’ll see it poured in Tel Aviv and Jaffa fish restaurants, Haifa’s harbor bars, and summer beach gatherings. The standard serve is 1 part arak to 2–3 parts cold water, ice added last. It pairs naturally with mezze—grilled sardines, tahini, labneh, and herb salads—and appears at long Friday lunches and seaside picnics. In many households, a shared carafe of arak signals a leisurely meal and conversation.

Israel’s wine story runs from biblical vineyards to a modern revival launched in the late 19th century, when Baron Edmond de Rothschild supported wineries in Rishon LeZion and Zichron Ya'akov. Today, high-elevation sites in the Galilee, Golan Heights, and Judean Hills deliver freshness and precision, while desert plots in the Negev rely on drip irrigation. Grapes include Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, Merlot, Carignan (notably old vines), Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, and local crossing Argaman. Typical ABV ranges 12.5–15%.

Basalt soils in the Golan lend dark-fruited structure; limestone in the Judean Hills brings chalky finesse. Kosher winemaking is common, with strict handling from harvest to bottling. Travelers taste at cellars in Katzrin (Golan) and Zichron Ya'akov, and order bottles in Jerusalem bistros and Tel Aviv wine bars. Wine remains central to Shabbat and holiday rituals, but the scene also excels at terroir-driven, food-friendly bottlings for everyday dining.

Boukha is a clear fig eau‑de‑vie cherished by many Israeli families with North African roots. It’s made by fermenting ripe figs, then distilling—often in copper pot stills—to around 36–40% ABV. The nose suggests sun‑dried figs, white flowers, and a hint of pepper; the palate is clean and gently sweet, finishing bone‑dry. Unlike arak, boukha is typically not anise‑flavored, so the fruit character stays front and center.

In Israel, you’ll find boukha served chilled as a welcome drink at family gatherings, weddings, and milestone birthdays, particularly in coastal cities like Ashdod and Netanya and across Tel Aviv’s cocktail bars. It matches well with salty snacks—almonds, olives, and cured cheeses—and can be lengthened with tonic and a squeeze of lemon. For many, a small glass of boukha evokes home cooking, hospitality, and the taste of summer figs.

Mahia is another heritage spirit maintained in Israel by Maghrebi Jewish communities. Traditionally distilled from figs (sometimes dates or grapes) and often perfumed with aniseed, it typically bottles at 40–55% ABV. Small producers use alembic stills, double distilling for clarity while preserving a rustic, fruity core. Expect aromas of fig jam, star anise, and citrus peel; on the palate it’s warm, dry, and spice‑tinged, with a lingering herbal finish.

Mahia is closely associated with the post‑Passover celebration of Mimouna, when families open their homes to neighbors for sweets and hospitality. In Beersheba, Ashdod, and Netanya, you may be offered a thimble glass alongside mint, oranges, or honey‑brushed mufleta pancakes. Some drink it neat; others dilute with cold water like arak. Contemporary bartenders in Tel Aviv also riff on it in sours and highballs, leaning into its fragrant anise and fig notes.

Etrog liqueur turns a ritual citron into a fragrant digestif. After Sukkot, many households zest their etrog and macerate it in neutral spirit (like vodka) with sugar; some add spices such as clove or cardamom. After a few weeks, the infusion is strained and adjusted for sweetness, usually landing between 25–35% ABV. The aroma is intensely citrusy—somewhere between lemon blossom and yuzu—while the taste balances tangy peel oils with gentle sweetness.

This is primarily a homemade, small‑batch tradition that avoids waste and extends the fruit’s symbolic life. You’ll encounter it as an after‑dinner nip in Jerusalem’s religious neighborhoods and in Bnei Brak, often served chilled in tiny glasses during winter. A splash can also perfume cakes or fruit salads. Boutique producers sometimes release limited bottles around the holiday season, but the soul of etrog liqueur remains proudly domestic.

Pomegranate wine is a modern Israeli specialty born from a venerable fruit. Producers crush and ferment 100% pomegranate juice much like grape wine, managing tannin and acidity with controlled temperatures and careful pressing. Most bottlings sit around 12–15% ABV. Expect vivid notes of cranberry, hibiscus, rose, and pomegranate molasses; the texture can be lightly tannic with a ruby hue that gleams in the glass.

The Upper Galilee—near Safed—hosts dedicated pomegranate wineries and tasting rooms, where visitors sample dry to semi‑sweet styles. At home, Israelis often pour it at Rosh Hashanah, when pomegranates symbolize abundance and new beginnings. Served lightly chilled, it pairs with grilled eggplant, herbed cheeses, and spicy salads. In restaurants from Tel Aviv to Haifa, it appears as a seasonal alternative to rosé, especially in warm months when its tangy lift shines.