What People Drink in Concepción: 6 Traditional Beverages

Set on the Biobío River and the Pacific, Concepción’s drinking habits reflect a cool, rainy climate and a working-port, university rhythm. Warm, sweet, and sturdy flavors dominate, from farmhouse ferments poured at markets to robust wines made inland.

Mapuche traditions meet Spanish colonial viticulture in the nearby Itata and Biobío valleys, among Chile’s oldest vineyards. In city picadas and seasonal ramadas, penquistas favor simple, convivial drinks tied to harvest cycles, winter rains, and a distinctly seismic history.

Pipeño is Chile’s quintessential country wine, and in Concepción it arrives fresh from the Itata and Biobío valleys—vineyards founded in the 16th century. Made mostly from País (Mission) and Muscat of Alexandria, it’s a young, lightly filtered still wine that typically sits around 11–13% ABV. Producers crush and ferment with native yeasts in open tanks or traditional raulí (native beech) vats, then rack early to keep the wine lively and rustic. Expect a faint spritz, red-fruit notes (strawberry, cherry), and earthy edges with soft tannin. Historically poured in garrafas (demijohns), pipeño remains the backbone of local “picadas” and market eateries. You’ll see it ladled into pitchers at the Vega Monumental or served alongside empanadas and asados during Fiestas Patrias in September. Because it is designed for immediate drinking, pipeño anchors social occasions where volume and conviviality matter more than polish—a direct line from colonial-era field blends to today’s penquista table.

Chicha is a seasonal, lightly alcoholic ferment that peaks around Chile’s Independence festivities. In the Biobío area you’ll encounter chicha de uva (grape) and, less commonly, chicha de manzana (apple). Producers press fruit, allow a short, wild-yeast fermentation, then arrest it early to preserve sweetness, resulting in 5–11% ABV depending on sugar and time. Grape chicha, often from País or Muscat, is cloudy and perfumed with floral, grapey aromas; apple chicha leans crisp and cidery. Both are sold in plastic bottles or demijohns, meant to be consumed within weeks. The drink’s roots blend Spanish techniques with rural Mapuche practice of low-strength ferments, and its modern identity is inseparable from ramadas and fondas that pop up across the region every September. In Concepción, chicha appears at spring markets and backyard asados, served cool in tumblers, a sweet counterpoint to grilled meats and cueca music. It’s less a bar staple than a harvest ritual in a bottle.

Few drinks say modern Chile like the terremoto (“earthquake”), a sweet shock of wine and ice cream that Concepción has embraced with gusto. Built in a tall glass, it combines pipeño or young white wine with a scoop of helado de piña (pineapple ice cream) and often a splash of grenadine or a bitter note like fernet. The result lands around 8–12% ABV, depending on the base wine. Creamy, tropical, and disarmingly drinkable, it slides from dessert to cocktail in a single sip. The prevailing origin story points to Santiago in 1985, when journalists reportedly christened the drink after a quake—naming that resonates in quake-hardened Concepción, especially after 2010. Local bars serve it year-round; order a “réplica” (aftershock) as a smaller second round or a supersized “cataclismo” for groups. While purists stick to pineapple, you’ll also find seasonal twists with berries. It’s festive rather than traditional, but it has become a cultural shorthand for Chilean resilience and humor.

Borgoña is a simple maceration that transforms everyday red wine into a summer refresher. In a pitcher, sliced strawberries are tossed with sugar, then covered with a light, young red—often País from Itata—left to marinate until the fruit bleeds its color and aroma into the wine. Served chilled, sometimes over ice, borgoña keeps the wine’s 9–12% ABV but reads softer and juicier. Aromas tilt toward fresh strawberry jam and rose, with a gentle tannic grip. The drink surfaced prominently in 20th‑century home entertaining and remains a fixture at asados, seafood lunches, and open‑air fondas. Around Concepción, berry harvests from nearby Ñuble fields mean ripe fruit is easy to find when temperatures climb. You’ll spot borgoña in jarras at neighborhood eateries and market counters, where it pairs naturally with mariscos, choripanes, and sun‑drenched afternoons. It’s as unpretentious as it gets—seasonal fruit, local wine, and a communal jug passed around the table.

Muday is a traditional Mapuche ferment that survives in rural Biobío communities and occasionally in Concepción’s cultural gatherings. Made from wheat or maize, it begins by soaking and simmering grain to extract starches. Some households sprout (malt) part of the grain to aid conversion; others rely on the natural sugars and wild yeasts, sometimes using a starter from a previous batch. The cooled liquid ferments briefly in clay or plastic vessels, producing a light, slightly tart drink at roughly 1–3% ABV. Muday’s profile is cereal‑driven with a lactic tang, often sweetened gently with sugar or honey. Historically central to Mapuche hospitality and ceremonies such as the nguillatun, it functioned as both refreshment and social glue. In and around Concepción, you’re most likely to encounter it at community events, ethnographic fairs, or Mapuche food stands rather than mainstream bars. Served in simple cups and meant for immediate consumption, muday offers a rare window into pre‑industrial fermentation in south‑central Chile.

Concepción’s long, wet winters call for navegado, a mulled red wine that warms hands and spirits. A pot of joven tinto is gently heated with orange slices or peel, cinnamon sticks, cloves, and sugar; some cooks add a dash of grape aguardiente, though most versions keep to the wine’s native 11–13% ABV. The key is not to boil—just enough heat to perfume the room with citrus oils and spice. The result is round, slightly sweet, and aromatic, with clove and cinnamon framing the wine’s fruit. Navegado shows up at winter gatherings, neighborhood fundraisers, and seasonal fairs, and it’s common at home on stormy nights when the Biobío winds pick up. You’ll also find it in cafés and casual eateries that transition to bar service after dark, where it pairs with sopaipillas pasadas or simple sandwiches. As with many Chilean warmers, the recipe is flexible, but the purpose is fixed: hold the chill at bay while conversation lingers.