Drinking Traditions of Myanmar: 5 Local Beverages That Endure

Myanmar’s drinking customs reflect its monsoon climate, fertile river valleys, and the dry central plains where toddy palms thrive. Rice is the staple crop, so both fermented and distilled rice drinks are common, while palm sap transforms quickly into low-alcohol toddy under tropical heat.

Across this multi-ethnic country, alcohol accompanies harvest feasts, village markets, and Buddhist and animist observances. In the Dry Zone near Bagan and Mandalay, toddy shops anchor daily social life; in the highlands of Shan and Chin, communal rice and millet brews warm cool evenings.

Htan yay is the fresh, lightly fermented sap of the Borassus flabellifer palm, a signature of Myanmar’s central Dry Zone. Toddy tappers climb at dawn to cut inflorescences and collect sap in gourds or bamboo vessels, where wild yeasts immediately begin fermentation. No malt or added sugar is used; the sap itself is the fermentable. Within hours the liquid turns softly effervescent, lactic-sour, and faintly creamy, moving from sweet to tangy as the day warms.

Served in clay cups at roadside toddy shops around Bagan, Magway, and Mandalay, htan yay typically ranges from 3–6% ABV when fresh, rising slightly if left to ferment longer. Expect aromas of palm sugar, yogurt, and green banana, with a brisk, quenching finish that suits midday heat. Locals pair it with fried chickpea fritters, dried fish, or pickled tea-leaf salads. Because the sap sours quickly, it’s best consumed near the groves where it’s collected—making a glass of morning toddy as much a place-based experience as a drink.

When palm wine ferments past its bright peak, it’s often distilled into a clear spirit commonly known regionally as arrack—Myanmar’s version is made in village stills from htan yay. Producers heat fermented toddy in small copper or aluminum pot stills over wood fires, directing vapors through bamboo or metal condensers. Single runs yield a rustic, fruity eau-de-vie; double distillation produces a cleaner spirit. Strength typically lands around 35–45% ABV, though higher-proof cuts exist.

The flavor leans toward palm sugar and coconut husk with a peppery finish, sometimes rounded in glass demijohns for a few weeks. Arrack is an evening drink at toddy shops and family gatherings across the central plains and delta, poured neat into small glasses or softened with water. Historically, palm spirits were intertwined with the toddy-jaggery economy: sap fed both sugar boilers and stills, and colonial excise laws later formalized licensing for production. In Mandalay and Yangon, small eateries pour local arrack alongside grilled meats and curries—an enduring link between agriculture and the dinner table.

Khaung is Myanmar’s traditional rice spirit, distilled from fermented steamed rice—often glutinous—using locally made yeast cakes that harbor wild yeasts and molds. Brewers ferment rice in earthenware jars or plastic tubs for several days, sometimes longer in cooler weather, then distill the mash in batch stills. The result is a clear, cereal-forward spirit typically ranging from 30–50% ABV, depending on cuts and whether a second distillation is performed.

On the palate, khaung is dry and grainy with light floral notes and a soft sweetness that recalls sake lees, finishing clean and slightly peppery. It’s widely consumed in rural lowlands—from the Ayeyarwady Delta to Bago—and appears at pagoda festivals, nat propitiation rites, weddings, and post-harvest feasts. British colonial excise rules in the late 19th century shaped how small stills operated, but household-scale production persists in many villages. You’ll find khaung poured neat in tea shops that also serve food, or offered by hosts to guests as a sign of welcome—best sampled in markets and village eateries outside major cities.

Among Chin communities in the western hills, zu is a traditional low-alcohol beer brewed from millet, rice, or sometimes maize. Grains are steamed and inoculated with a local fermentation starter, then left to ferment in bamboo or earthen vessels; the result is a semi-solid mash that’s diluted and drunk through bamboo straws. Typical strength ranges from 2–6% ABV, with flavors that are gently sweet, tangy, and grainy—closer to a rustic ale than a spirit.

Zu is central to social life and ritual: it’s shared at house-raisings, harvest celebrations, and courtship visits, and elders lead toasts while warm water is added to the pot to extend the drink. In towns like Hakha and Falam, home-brewed zu appears at family meals, while village festivals set aside entire jars for communal drinking. Expect aromas of steamed millet, sourdough, and fresh hay. For visitors, sampling zu is less about bars and more about accepting hospitality—seek community-run homestays or cultural events where drinking from a shared pot is still practiced.

In Shan State’s uplands around Taunggyi and the markets of Nyaung Shwe near Inle Lake, villagers produce a distinctive rice whisky. Steamed rice is fermented in open tubs using local yeast cakes, then distilled in simple pot stills; some producers run a second distillation for clarity. Bottled clear and often unlabeled, Shan rice whisky typically clocks in at 35–50% ABV, with a clean, slightly sweet grain aroma and a brisk, peppery finish that suits cool highland evenings.

You’ll see small shots poured at dawn markets, paired with grilled pork skewers or sticky-rice snacks, and toasts raised at festivals such as Phaung Daw Oo (when gilded Buddha images circle Inle Lake) or Shan novice ordinations. The drink reflects the region’s climate—cooler nights and drier air favor reliable fermentation—and the Tai cultural footprint shared across highland Southeast Asia. While modern bars in Taunggyi may mix it into simple highballs, the classic way is neat, in tiny glasses, sipped alongside hot broth and pickled mustard greens.