Drinking Traditions of Guatemala: 6 Local Beverages That Define a Nation

Guatemala’s drinks reflect its geography: cane fields on the Pacific plain, cool volcanic highlands, and misty cloud forests. Indigenous Maya traditions meet colonial-era distilling, creating a spectrum from rustic ferments to refined rums with a clear sense of place.

In markets and fiestas, people share low-alcohol chichas, robust aguardiente, and celebratory liqueurs. Climate and altitude shape flavor—coastal sugarcane lends sweetness, mountain air encourages slow aging, and homegrown fruits and herbs infuse seasonal character.

Guatemalan rum is cane-based, typically made from “virgin sugarcane honey” (a concentrated cane juice) fermented with selected yeasts, distilled, and matured at altitude for complexity. Brands like Zacapa and Botran age blends in a solera system at high elevations near Quetzaltenango, where cool night temperatures and thin air slow oxidation and concentrate aromas. Expect 40% ABV bottlings with layered notes of toffee, vanilla, dried fruit, cacao, and gentle oak from ex-bourbon and dessert-wine casks. You’ll find curated flights in Antigua Guatemala’s cocktail bars and premium pours in Guatemala City; the rum’s name references Zacapa in the east, where cane and commerce have long intersected.

Quetzalteca is a cane-based aguardiente, distilled to a neutral profile and often infused or macerated with hibiscus (rosa de jamaica), tamarind, or citrus. Typically bottled at 30–35% ABV, it drinks clean and lightly sweet, with fruit-forward aromas that soften the spirit’s bite. Culturally, it is everywhere—from tienditas in Panajachel to market stalls in Chichicastenango—fueling convivios, patron-saint fiestas, and informal toasts before a meal. Most people sip it neat from small glass bottles or mix it with soda and ice; look for cold, flavored versions in neighborhood stores and cantinas, especially on weekends when music, street food, and social life spill into the plaza.

Cusha (often spelled cusha or cusha’) is an artisanal highland spirit—essentially moonshine—traditionally distilled in small pot stills from fermented panela (unrefined cane sugar) and, in some villages, a mash that includes corn. Batch strength ranges from about 45–55% ABV, with rustic aromas: green cane, light smoke from wood-fired boilers, and a peppery finish. It appears in cofradía ceremonies and family rites, where a small glass may be offered to ancestors or shared among elders before a dance or procession. You can encounter it discreetly in markets around San Juan La Laguna and Chichicastenango, sold in recycled bottles; locals take quick shots with salted orange or chase it with atol or coffee to balance the heat.

Chicha de maíz is a low-alcohol, farmhouse ferment rooted in Maya agriculture, made by cooking maize (often nixtamalized with cal), grinding it into a mash, and fermenting with water. Many households add panela or pineapple peel to jump-start wild yeasts, then ferment in clay pots or plastic barrels for two to four days, yielding a 2–5% ABV drink that’s lightly sour, softly sweet, and faintly effervescent. The aroma evokes fresh tortilla, lactic tang, and fruit skins; it’s poured cool into jícara gourds during planting and harvest days when fieldwork is shared. Look for it in market comedores in Chichicastenango and around Lake Atitlán towns such as Panajachel and San Juan La Laguna, especially during feria weeks when vendors produce larger, consistent batches.

In the warmer Pacific lowlands, chicha de piña is a household staple—a bright, refreshing ferment using pineapple peels and cores, panela, water, and sometimes cinnamon and clove. Fermentation is spontaneous and brief, typically 24–72 hours, producing 1–3% ABV with a softly tart, tropical profile and gentle sparkle from dissolved CO2. The drink is cloudy gold with aromas of ripe pineapple, citrus zest, and baking spice, best served ice-cold on hot afternoons. You’ll see glass jugs resting on shaded counters in Escuintla and Amatitlán, and some eateries in Guatemala City offer a quicker, lighter version; it pairs naturally with grilled meats, chirmol salsa, and roadside snacks on coastal routes.

Rompope is a custard-like liqueur with colonial-era convent roots, prepared by simmering milk with sugar and cinnamon, tempering in egg yolks, and fortifying with rum or aguardiente before a vanilla-scented rest. Guatemalan versions sit between 12–20% ABV, with a velvety texture, aromas of vanilla and nutmeg, and a gentle warmth that makes it a holiday favorite. Families bottle it for Christmas, New Year, and posadas, and it appears at weddings and baptisms as a small glass pour or over ice. In Antigua Guatemala and Guatemala City, cafés and bakeries sell house-made rompope by the bottle; locals also drizzle it onto sponge cakes or mix it into coffee for an evening digestif.