Drinking Traditions of Ancient Iran: 6 Beverages That Shaped a Civilization

Long before prohibition, the Iranian plateau fostered a sophisticated drinking culture shaped by arid mountains, high deserts, and ingenious qanat irrigation. Grapes, dates, pomegranates, and barley thrived in distinct microclimates from the Zagros to the Persian Gulf.

Archaeology and texts—from Hajji Firuz Tepe residues to Persepolis tablets—trace wines, beers, and ritual elixirs served at farms, temples, and royal banquets. What follows maps the flavors, methods, and meanings behind ancient Iranian drinks.

In the northern Zagros, the Neolithic village of Hajji Firuz Tepe yielded one of the world’s earliest clear proofs of winemaking: clay jars lined with resin and stained with tartaric acid, a signature of grape fermentation. The base ingredients were wild or early-domesticated grapes, crushed and left to ferment in large earthenware vessels (khomreh). Terebinth resin from Pistacia likely sealed and stabilized the wine, lending a piney, balsamic note and protecting it from spoilage.

Expect a dry-to-off-dry profile with herbal aromatics, stone-fruit tang, and a faint sappy finish from the resin; natural fermentation would have produced a modest strength, likely under 12% ABV. Such wines were stored cool in shaded rooms and consumed at household feasts and seasonal gatherings tied to harvest cycles. The high diurnal swing of the Zagros favored acidity and freshness, while clay vessels offered gentle micro-oxygenation similar to modern amphora traditions, giving the wine a textured, earth-driven character.

By the Achaemenid era, vineyards around today’s Shiraz in Fars were famed, supported by terrace farming and qanat irrigation that tempered heat and drought. Grapes were hand-harvested, tread or pressed, and fermented in clay jars before transport to royal stores. The Persepolis Fortification Tablets record allocations of wine to workers and officials, while palace reliefs and Sasanian silver vessels point to lavish banqueting culture where wine flowed from rhyta and shallow bowls.

Shiraz court wines likely ranged from light, aromatic reds to fuller styles with dried-plum and spice notes, typically 11–13% ABV. Without oak, maturation in clay preserved fresh fruit and earthy tones. These wines were served at ceremonial events, diplomatic receptions, and calendar festivals such as Nowruz, pairing with herb-laden stews and grilled meats. In and around Persepolis and Shiraz, the drink signaled status and hospitality—an emblem of statecraft as much as pleasure.

In the lowlands of Khuzestan, the Elamite capital of Susa brewed barley-based beer that mirrored wider Near Eastern traditions. Malted barley and emmer were mashed and sometimes formed into baked malt loaves, then rehydrated to ferment in large jars. Sweeteners such as dates or date syrup could enrich the wort, while sediment-heavy brews were drunk communally through long straws—a practice seen on ancient seals—to avoid husks.

Flavor-wise, expect bready malt, a soft lactic tang from warm fermentations, and occasional dried-fruit notes; strength would hover around 3–6% ABV. Beer functioned as daily sustenance and temple or palace ration, alongside festival drinking. Susa’s hot climate favored quickly produced, low-ABV ales that refreshed laborers by day and accompanied evening gatherings. The city’s position on irrigation-fed plains ensured reliable grain supplies, anchoring beer as a staple alongside bread and dates.

Where vineyards thinned in the southern heat, date palms stood in abundance. Date wine was typically prepared by soaking chopped dates in water to leach sugars, then allowing wild yeasts to ferment the must in clay jars under palm-thatch shade. Sometimes aromatics like cardamom or cinnamon were added; in coastal settings, slightly saline air and high temperatures quickened fermentation and lent oxidative complexity.

The resulting drink poured deep amber with fig, caramel, and molasses notes, medium body, and a gentle warmth—often in the 8–14% ABV range depending on sugar load and fermentation time. Historically, such ferments fit the ecology of Khuzestan’s riverine oases and port towns, from the Susiana plain to places later known as Ahvaz and the Gulf littoral. It was suited to warm evenings and communal meals, pairing with smoked fish, grilled lamb, and spiced rice, and serving as an accessible alternative where grapes were scarce.

Pomegranates have long been cultivated across the Iranian plateau, particularly in oases and garden cities. Pomegranate wine—known to classical writers as rhoites—was produced by crushing arils, pressing juice, and fermenting in glazed or pitched jars. Some makers blended a portion of grape must for balance, while others fermented pure pomegranate juice to a tart, ruby-hued drink prized in autumn.

Expect brisk acidity, cranberry-like bite, and a faint tannic grip from pith and skin, typically around 9–12% ABV. The wine’s jewel color and fertility symbolism made it apt for harvest celebrations, especially around Mehregan, and for toasts marking family milestones. Regions from Fars to the central plateau nurtured orchards; places later renowned for pomegranates, such as Yazd’s surrounding villages, exemplify how qanats sustained fruit in desert climates. Served cool, it matched herb rice, barberries, and roasted game.

Haoma is the ritual plant-drink at the heart of Zoroastrian liturgy, prepared by pounding twigs in a mortar (havana), then mixing the juice with water and, in the parahaoma variant, milk and pomegranate leaves or twigs. The exact botanical identity of haoma remains debated—ephedra is a leading candidate—and the beverage today is non-alcoholic, consumed by priests during the Yasna ceremony at sunrise and shared in small ritual portions.

In antiquity, scholars have argued that prolonged preparation or storage could have allowed mild fermentation, but its purpose was devotional rather than convivial. Sensory-wise, haoma is bitter, resinous, and herbaceous, carrying the scent of crushed stems and garden greens rather than fruit. Its inclusion here speaks to the continuum of Iranian drink culture, where sacred and secular cups coexisted—from courtly wine in Persepolis and Shiraz to everyday ale in Susa—each embedded in landscape, season, and ceremony.