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

Lebanon's drinking culture is rooted in mountain agriculture and a maritime crossroads. Grapes thrive in the high Bekaa Valley, while apples and mulberries dot terraced slopes of Mount Lebanon. Green anise scents village stills, and limestone soils with cool nights shape balanced wines.

From Beirut's seaside bars to Zahle's riverfront meze halls, alcohol punctuates long lunches, harvest feasts, and family rites. Distillation and winemaking, refined by monasteries and migrant know-how, remain everyday arts connecting coastal cities with inland valleys.

Arak is Lebanon’s signature aniseed spirit, traditionally made by distilling local grapes—often indigenous Obeidi or Merwah—then re-distilling the spirit with green anise (Pimpinella anisum). Family producers use copper pot stills (karakeh), and many allow the spirit to rest for months in neutral vessels such as clay jars or glass demijohns. Bottled at 50–53% ABV, it is always diluted with cold water (typically 1:2 or 1:3) to louche into a milky hue, then served over ice. Expect a clean, dry palate: licorice and fennel seed aromas, a creamy texture, and a long, peppery finish without added sugar. Arak anchors leisurely meze tables—grilled lamb, kibbeh nayyeh, sardines, and crisp salads—especially at Sunday lunches along the Berdawni River in Zahle. Historically shaped under Ottoman-era trade and mountain agriculture, arak distillation remains a village craft as well as a national staple, poured at weddings, religious feast days, and harvest celebrations.

Vines have grown in the Bekaa Valley for millennia, where elevations of roughly 900–1,200 meters, limestone-rich soils, and wide diurnal swings produce ripe fruit with preserved acidity. Red blends often feature Cinsault, Carignan, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Syrah; whites increasingly highlight native Merwah and Obeidi. Modern cellars ferment in stainless steel for purity or in oak for texture, with reds typically undergoing malolactic fermentation and selective barrel aging. Alcohol levels sit around 12–14.5% ABV. Flavors range from Bekaa reds with black cherry, dried herb, and cedar spice to whites showing citrus oil, stone fruit, and saline minerality. The style is Mediterranean yet high-altitude fresh, a signature of Lebanon’s topography. Travelers taste wines at estates near Zahle, then find them by the glass in Beirut and Byblos. At the table, robust reds suit grilled lamb and stuffed eggplant, while aromatic whites pair well with fried fish, fattoush, or garlicky labneh.

Beer has long refreshed Lebanon’s coast, with pale lagers such as Almaza—founded in 1933—defining the classic pour: light gold, mild hop bitterness, and a crisp finish around 4–4.5% ABV. Since the mid-2000s, a craft wave has added witbiers, IPAs, and porters, brewed in and around Beirut and served in taprooms and beachside venues in Batroun. Expect citrusy wheat beers with coriander and orange peel, piney hop-forward ales, and dark malty styles in the 4–7% ABV range. Breweries commonly use imported malt and hops but lean on local water profiles and coastal fermentation conditions. Beer culture is casual and social: pitchers on the Corniche at sunset, pints with manoushe or grilled sardines, and post-swim rounds in Batroun’s breezy beach bars. Summer is peak season, but pubs across Beirut keep lagers and craft taps pouring year-round, making beer the everyday counterpoint to the country’s anise spirits and robust wines.

Mulberry trees once fed Lebanon’s silk trade; today their fruit lives on in homemade drinks across mountain villages. Families in and around Rachaya and the Bekaa crush ripe black mulberries for two traditional styles. One is a rustic mulberry wine fermented on skins, typically 10–12% ABV, with inky color, brambly fruit, and gentle tannin. The other is a liqueur: ripe berries are macerated in arak or neutral spirit with sugar, then filtered to a sweet-tart digestif around 20–30% ABV. Aromas suggest blackberry jam, violet, and a hint of anise when arak is used as the base. Served chilled in small glasses, it appears after meals, at village feasts, or as a welcome for guests—especially in summer when fruit is plentiful. Though largely small-batch and domestic, the tradition is easy to find in rural markets near Baalbek and along mountain roads, where bottles of deep purple toot sit beside jars of honey and carob molasses.

French Jesuits helped modernize viticulture in the mid-19th century, and with it came brandy, distilled from local wines and aged in oak. Today a handful of producers in and around the Bekaa still practice this craft, double-distilling wine in pot or column stills and resting the spirit in French oak to soften its edges. At roughly 40% ABV, Lebanese brandy tends to show dried apricot, vanilla, toast, and warm spice over a supple palate. The style bridges Mediterranean sun and Old World technique: ripe fruit balanced by barrel structure and altitude-driven freshness. You will find it poured neat after dinner in Beirut restaurants or on cooler evenings in Byblos, sometimes alongside dark chocolate or a cigar. While quantities are modest compared with arak and wine, brandy remains a quietly enduring part of the country’s distilling heritage—proof that Lebanon’s long relationship with the vine extends beyond the table and into contemplative nightcaps.