Drinking Traditions of Jordan: Wine, Arak, and Local Beer

Alcohol in Jordan sits at a cultural crossroads. While the country is majority Muslim, Christian towns such as Fuheis, Madaba, and parts of Amman sustain public drinking traditions, small wineries, and a craft beer scene. Heat, altitude, and basalt-limestone soils shape what is produced and how it tastes.

You’ll find arak poured at meze tables, robust wines from the northern highlands, and lagers chilled for summer nights. Drinking is most visible in urban neighborhoods and Christian communities, with restaurants and bottle shops clustered around Amman and historic towns in the central plateau.

Arak is Jordan’s classic anise-flavored spirit, distilled from grape alcohol and green aniseed. Producers typically triple-distill in copper alembics, then rest the spirit before bottling at around 40–53% ABV. When mixed with cold water and ice, arak turns milky—a louche prized for its silky texture. The aroma is intensely licorice-like with fennel and herbal notes; the palate is dry, warming, and long. It’s sipped slowly with small plates: grilled lamb skewers, fried kibbeh, olives, and herb-laced salads that complement the anise bouquet.

Arak’s footprint in Jordan is strongest in Amman’s restaurants and in Christian-majority towns where family feasts, weddings, and Easter gatherings keep the tradition alive. Brands widely found in shops include Jordanian labels such as Arak Haddad, a name locals recognize instantly. Custom dictates a splash of arak to two parts water, refreshed with ice throughout the meal. In practice, you’ll encounter it in Jabal Amman and Jabal al-Weibdeh bistros, coastal-style fish houses, and backyard grills where the evening cool sets in after hot, dry days.

Jordan’s modern wine story grows in high, wind-brushed vineyards north and east of Amman, where elevations often exceed 700–900 meters. Organic pioneers like Saint George (Zumot) and other producers in the Mafraq highlands cultivate international varieties—Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Syrah/Shiraz, and Chardonnay—on basalt and limestone soils under a dry, sunny climate. Drip irrigation and low yields concentrate fruit; fermentation in stainless steel preserves freshness, while French oak adds spice and structure. Expect ripe black cherry, plum, and baked fig in reds with warm spice and 13–15% ABV; whites offer golden apple, citrus, and a saline finish from diurnal temperature swings.

Wine has deep roots here—from Nabataean and Byzantine presses to biblical landscapes around Mount Nebo and Madaba—yet it is today’s tasting rooms and urban wine bars that make Jordanian wine accessible. Look for Saint George pours in Madaba and Amman, and for labels like Jordan River Wine on restaurant lists. These wines accompany lamb or beef grills, musakhan, and herb-driven mezze, and are poured at weekend lunches, Christmas and Easter dinners, and sunset gatherings overlooking the high plateau. Visitors often combine vineyard tastings with trips to Madaba’s mosaics or the biblical overlooks near Mount Nebo.

Carakale put Jordan on the craft beer map from its hillside brewhouse in Fuheis, a predominantly Christian town west of Amman. The brewery works with malted barley, imported hops, and neutral ale yeast to produce styles like Blonde Ale, Pale Ale, IPA, and occasional dark brews, typically ranging from 4.5% to about 8% ABV. Fermentation in conical tanks and meticulous cold conditioning yield clean, hop-forward profiles: citrus and pine in American-style ales, bread and honey in blondes, and coffee or chocolate in seasonal stouts. Some limited releases incorporate Jordanian touches—think herbs or fruit that nod to local terroir—while keeping international quality benchmarks.

Culture-wise, Carakale’s taproom has become a social anchor for weekend tastings, brewery tours, and live music, drawing day-trippers from Amman alongside Fuheis locals. You’ll find their cans and draught lines in Amman bars and restaurants, especially in neighborhoods where dining and nightlife concentrate. Pints pair naturally with meze platters, burgers, and grilled meats, and are especially welcome on warm evenings when crisp carbonation and chill balance Jordan’s dry heat. For many travelers, a visit to Fuheis offers a glimpse of contemporary Jordanian hospitality intertwined with an emerging craft identity.

Petra is Jordan’s best-known strong lager, brewed domestically and ubiquitous in bottle shops and casual eateries. Made from barley malt and adjuncts suited to a warm climate, it is fermented as a clean, pale lager but packaged at higher strength—most commonly 8% or even 10% ABV, marketed locally as Petra 8 and Petra 10. The flavor tilts malty-sweet with a full body, light hop bitterness, and a warming finish; served very cold, it drinks smoother than its numbers suggest. Expect golden to deep amber color and a soft cereal aroma with hints of caramel on the stronger variant.

Petra’s role is pragmatic: a straightforward, hearty beer for barbecues, football nights, and open-air gatherings from Amman to Madaba. It’s poured into frosted glasses, often paired with spiced grilled chicken, shawarma, or za’atar chips at home. While craft fans gravitate to places like Fuheis, Petra remains the go-to in corner shops and hotel bars—reliable, affordable, and easy to find if you’re stocking a cooler for a Dead Sea weekend or a road trip south toward Wadi Musa (Petra).

Alongside commercial labels, many Jordanian Christian families in towns like Madaba, Fuheis, and Salt make baladi—simple homemade wine—especially for holidays. The method is modest and traditional: table grapes (or rehydrated raisins when grapes are scarce) are crushed, sometimes foot-tread, then fermented on skins with wild yeasts in glass demijohns or food-grade barrels. After racking off the lees, the wine rests until it clears naturally. Strength typically lands around 10–13% ABV. Flavors are rustic and comforting: dark fruit, gentle tannin, a touch of sweetness or volatile lift depending on the year, and a cloudy or lightly filtered appearance.

Baladi is not a commercial product, but a social practice that ties households to seasonal cycles and church calendars. It appears at Christmas and Easter tables next to roasted meats and rice dishes, or is poured during family lunches after mass. You may encounter offers of a glass in homey restaurants around Madaba or Fuheis, where owners proudly pour their own or a neighbor’s batch. For visitors, it’s a window into Jordan’s at-home hospitality: resourceful, rooted, and quietly resilient in a climate where grapes ripen fast and tradition keeps pace.