Drinking Traditions of Syria: 5 Local Beverages That Define a Nation

Syria bridges Mediterranean coast and desert steppe, a landscape that grows grapes, anise, mulberries, and barley. From terrace farms in the coastal mountains to orchards around As-Suwayda, agriculture sets the table for what people drink. Seasonal harvests still shape recipes and gatherings.

Alcohol is not universal, yet for Christian, Druze, and many secular families, it remains woven into meals, weddings, and harvest parties. Despite years of disruption, small producers in Damascus, Aleppo, and Latakia have kept quietly refining beloved styles.

Arak is Syria’s signature spirit, a clear anise-flavored distillate made from fermented grapes (or occasionally raisins) and aromatized with Pimpinella anisum. Producers ferment grape must, then triple-distill in copper alembics to achieve purity before a final pass with aniseed. Some makers rest the spirit in neutral clay jars (local amphora-like vessels) or glass demijohns to marry flavors. When water is added, essential oils cause the classic louche—an opalescent, milky hue that signals quality. Proper service begins with water first, then ice, to keep the anise oils stable.

Syrian arak typically sits around 45–53% ABV, delivering a dry, clean base lifted by sweet licorice aromas and a faint grape roundness. It is a meal-time drink, poured for long mezze spreads: olives, grilled fish on the Latakia coast, kibbeh nayeh, and tomato-cumin salads. In Damascus and Aleppo, it appears at family celebrations and late summer evenings when tables move outdoors. The ritual is unhurried—small sips, frequent refills, and generous plates—anchoring the social rhythm of a meal.

Arak al-toot is a mulberry-based spirit long associated with Aleppo and the orchards of northern Syria. Black mulberries (Morus nigra) are crushed, fermented, and double-distilled; some producers then redistill with anise, while others leave the spirit unflavored to foreground fruit character. Traditional households may lightly sweeten or tint the final spirit with mulberry must, though many contemporary versions remain clear. Expect an ABV around 40–45%, with copper-pot stills favored for their gentle extraction of berry aromatics.

In the glass, Aleppine mulberry arak is plush and aromatic: hints of ripe blackberry jam, violets, and, when anise is used, a soft licorice lift. It pairs beautifully with Aleppine mezze—muhammara with Aleppo pepper, spicy sujuk, and grilled eggplant salads. The drink’s cultural roots trace to centuries of mulberry cultivation that supported silk production; the same trees made their way into kitchens as fruit and ferment. Families traditionally bring it out in late spring and early summer as mulberries ripen around Idlib and Afrin, serving it neat or louched with cool water on warm nights in Aleppo courtyards.

Syria’s winemaking heritage stretches back millennia—wine jugs have been excavated at ancient Ebla and Ugarit (Ras Shamra). Today, the most visible vineyards lie on the coastal mountain slopes near Latakia and on the high plateau around As-Suwayda. The Mediterranean climate, limestone soils, and altitude (often 600–900 meters) favor varieties like Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Chardonnay, and Sauvignon Blanc, alongside local table grapes that some families vinify at home. Modern estates ferment in stainless steel, with selective aging in French oak to add structure.

Syrian reds are typically 13–14.5% ABV, showing black cherry, licorice, and Eastern spice, while whites lean 12.5–13.5% with citrus, stone fruit, and a saline finish from sea-breeze-cooled sites. A noted example is the high-altitude winery operating in the Jebel al-Ansariyeh range above Latakia, known for polished, age-worthy reds. In As-Suwayda, Druze families often make small-batch wines for home use, poured at weddings and autumn harvest meals with lamb, stuffed grape leaves, and bulgur pilafs. In Damascus and Latakia, you’ll find wine in restaurants that emphasize grilled meats and Levantine herbs.

Beer has a quiet but steady presence in Syria, dominated by pale lagers brewed from malted barley, hops, water, and lager yeast. Historically, brands like Barada (named for the river that runs through Damascus) and Arados (a coastal reference) supplied the domestic market with crisp, approachable beers around 4–5% ABV. In recent years, Afamia—named for the ancient city Apamea—has added a locally brewed lager to shelves, reflecting a slow return of production capacity.

These are classic warm-weather lagers: bright straw color, light cracker malt, gentle floral bitterness, and a clean finish that suits the Mediterranean climate. In Damascus and Aleppo, beer is common in casual cafes, at home barbecues, and on seaside evenings in Latakia and Tartus. Pair it with shawarma, salted nuts, grilled sardines, or za’atar-dusted flatbreads. While styles remain focused on easy-drinking lagers rather than hop-forward ales, the role of beer is clear—refreshment first, socializing always.

Before refrigeration and rapid transport, raisin-based spirits were a practical response to Syria’s inland climate. Arak al-zbib begins with sun-dried grapes rehydrated in water and allowed to ferment, creating a robust must that is then triple-distilled in copper stills. Anise is added during the final pass, and the spirit may rest in glass demijohns or neutral clay to round edges. Typical strength is 45–50% ABV, with a slightly richer mouthfeel than fresh-grape arak.

Flavor skews toward honeyed dried fruit—think golden raisin and date—woven into the familiar licorice note of anise. The Hauran plain around Daraa and farm belts near Hama and Homs long favored this method when fresh grapes were scarce after pressing or export. Families traditionally pour it during autumn olive harvests, when night air cools and tables fill with pickles, roasted lamb, and thyme-scented salads. Served with a splash of water and a cube of ice, it is a convivial, restorative drink linked to the rhythms of inland agriculture.