Drinking Traditions of Prague: 7 Local Beverages That Define a City

Prague’s drinking culture reflects Central Europe’s seasons and the city’s long role as a beer capital. Soft water, Moravian barley, and Saaz hops from Žatec shaped lagers that pair with hearty, cold‑weather cooking. Vineyards to the southeast sustain a parallel wine tradition that filters into city bars each autumn.

In hospody (pubs), foam matters as much as flavor, and toasts begin with a firm clink and a clear “Na zdraví.” Locals reach for crisp pints after work, bitter‑herbal digestifs in winter, and sweet festival pours when harvest arrives—rituals as rooted as the cobbles along the Vltava.

Světlý ležák is the Czech pale lager that anchors daily life in Prague. Brewed from Czech two‑row barley malt, Žatec (Saaz) hops, soft water, and bottom‑fermenting yeast, it typically sits at 11–12° Plato and about 4.4–5.0% ABV. Classic production relies on decoction mashing—often triple decoction for rich malt expression—cool fermentation, and extended cold lagering in horizontal tanks. The style’s modern fame began in 1842 in nearby Plzeň, where pale, brilliantly clear beer reshaped European tastes; Prague adopted and refined it behind countless bar counters.

Expect a bright gold pour with a dense, wet foam cap and aromas of fresh bread crust, haylike malt, and spicy‑herbal Saaz. Bitterness is firm yet soft, finishing dry and clean. In Prague, servers practice distinct pours—hladinka (full beer, lush foam), šnyt (smaller, drier pour), and mlíko (foam‑heavy, sweet and creamy)—each changing the perception of bitterness. You’ll find it everywhere from neighborhood hospody to beer halls, with lunchtime mugs and after‑work rounds equally common. References to Plzeň and České Budějovice highlight its regional roots, but the taste is decisively Prague at the tap.

Beyond pale lager, Prague pubs pour tmavé pivo—dark lager brewed with a base of pale malt plus caramel and roasted malts. It uses the same bottom‑fermenting yeast and cold maturation as pale lager, often coupled with decoction mashing to deepen malt complexity. Alcohol typically ranges from 4.0–5.5% ABV. The goal isn’t heavy roast; Czech dark lagers keep roastiness gentle so that notes of cocoa, toasted bread, and caramel glide over a clean, dry finish.

Order a tmavé for a smoother, rounder bitterness and aromas hinting at cocoa, cola, and light coffee. A classic Prague hybrid is řezané pivo—a half‑and‑half of pale and dark lager that yields a burnished amber color, bready sweetness, and restrained hop bite. Both tmavé and řezané suit cooler months and hearty fare like roast pork and dumplings, yet they remain year‑round staples in city hospody. You’ll see them in the same half‑litre mugs, poured with proud foam crowns and toasted with a cheerful “Na zdraví.”

Becherovka is a Czech herbal liqueur born in Karlovy Vary and a fixture on Prague backbars. It blends neutral spirit with a secret mix of herbs and spices, macerated and matured in oak before sweetening. Bottled at 38% ABV, it pours pale gold and offers aromas of cinnamon, clove, orange peel, and bitter botanicals, followed by a warming, slightly medicinal finish. Created in 1807 by Josef Becher, its recipe is closely guarded, but the profile is consistently bittersweet and winter‑ready.

In Prague, Becherovka is served chilled neat as an aperitif or digestif or mixed with tonic water as a Beton—a classic highball popularized internationally in the 1960s. It pairs naturally with rich Czech cooking, cutting through gravies and smoked meats, and sees heavy rotation in colder months when locals favor warming spirits. You’ll encounter it in traditional restaurants and modern cocktail bars alike, often recommended after dinner or as a bracing start to a winter evening.

Slivovice is a fruit brandy (pálenka) distilled from ripe plums, long associated with Moravia but widely poured in Prague. Producers ferment crushed plums—pits and skins contribute almond‑like aromatics—then double‑distill in copper pot stills. Some versions rest in stainless steel to preserve fruit purity; others age briefly in wood for added roundness. Typical strength is 40–50% ABV, though rural versions may run stronger. The nose captures orchard fruit, marzipan, and a faint floral edge; the palate is long, dry, and warming.

Culturally, slivovice is the celebratory shot at weddings, name days, and family gatherings, introduced with a direct toast and steady eye contact. In Prague, it appears on shot lists at hospody and vinárny, often as a bracing opener before beer or a digestif after grilled sausages and smoked cheeses. Variants like hruškovice (pear) or meruňkovice (apricot) are common, but plum remains the emblem. It is a spirit of welcome—sipped, not tossed—especially in the chill of winter.

Burčák is partially fermented grape must—creamy, cloudy, and lightly sparkling—arriving in Prague each harvest. By Czech law, the name applies only to young wine made from Czech‑grown grapes and sold seasonally (roughly 1 August to 30 November). Fermentation is ongoing, so strength evolves from about 1–7% ABV; sweetness fades as alcohol rises. Aromas evoke crushed grapes and bread dough, with a prickly fizz and soft acidity. White burčák is most common, but rosé and red versions appear too.

You’ll find burčák at autumn markets, wine shops, and temporary stands, often ladled into plastic cups or sold in vented bottles. It’s a social drink—walkable, convivial, and best consumed the day you buy it. In Prague, stalls cluster near busy squares and farmer’s markets, bringing Moravian vineyard energy into the city. Locals pair it with roasted goose, onion tart, or simple street snacks during harvest festivals. Handle it with care: it’s deceptively easy to drink, and bottles may continue fermenting on your way home.

Tuzemák is a distinctly Czech spirit—once labeled tuzemský rum until EU rules restricted the word “rum” to cane‑based spirits. Today it’s a flavored spirit, usually around 37.5% ABV, made from rectified alcohol (often beet‑derived in the past) blended with sugar and rum‑style essences. The result smells of vanilla, toffee, and baking spice, with a soft, sweet palate and short finish. While not Caribbean rum, it is deeply woven into Czech culinary life and winter drinking.

In Prague, tuzemák anchors hot grog (spirit, hot water, lemon, sugar) and rum tea in cafés, and flavors desserts like rumové kuličky (rum balls) and sponge cakes. You’ll spot it behind most pub counters and in corner shops, priced for everyday use rather than contemplation. Come freezing nights or flu season, locals swear by a steaming grog, ideally enjoyed after a brisk walk across the Vltava bridges. It’s the taste of home comfort—nostalgic, simple, and unmistakably Czech.

Medovina is traditional honey wine made by fermenting honey with water and yeast, sometimes spiced with cinnamon, clove, or vanilla. Alcohol typically lands around 10–14% ABV. Producers may age it a few months to a year to round off edges and integrate aromas. The nose offers warm honeycomb, flowers, and baking spice; the palate balances gentle sweetness with a soothing, wine‑like body. Czech beekeeping heritage runs deep, and mead has medieval roots in Central Europe.

In Prague, medovina shines at Christmas markets and winter fairs, where it’s served warm in thick cups that fend off the cold. It’s an easy sipper between stalls of roasted nuts and grilled sausages, and a common souvenir bottle from downtown shops. When temperatures drop, locals favor medovina as an alternative to mulled wine—less tannic, more floral, and comfortingly sweet. It’s a seasonal counterpoint to the city’s crisp lagers, embodying the rhythm of Prague’s winters.