The Astounding World of Rakı Rituals

Pop-up Meyhane in London by Istanbul Elsewhere, photo by Ferhat Elik

Unlike many a drink one enjoys casually, rakı is a drink that comes with quite a few rituals, many of which are strictly observed by aficionados and mere enthusiasts alike. These rituals concern a wide array of issues ranging from the pivotal question of diluting the rakı to lighter topics such as topping off a rakı night with a pint of beer called cila, the varnish.

Water, the unsung hero

In the classical age of meyhanes, enthusiasts would often refrain from diluting the rakı; they’d take a sip of cold rakı (cooled in snow bowls) and follow it up with a quaff of water they kept in a separate glass. However, since the turn of the century and with the advancements in refrigeration techniques, water has earned a more prominent role at the rakı table as the diluter and the agent that bestows the lion’s milk its unique color.

Turkish Food Codex Legislation asserts that the quality of water used in distillation has no bearing on the taste of rakı. As such, producers can opt for any kind so long as it is sourced in Turkey.

Although people have their own preferences regarding the amount of water to be added to rakı, the most commonly used ratio is half and half. Unsurprisingly, the literary giant and rakı devotee Ahmet Rasim provides us with one of the first guidelines on dilution: “Add equal amounts of rakı and water to what is nowadays called a double glass. Then drink it in six to eight swigs with a five-minute break between each sip.”

The ideal rakı temperature is 8-10°C meaning both the rakı and water need to be cold to maximize the palatal pleasures. But that is merely the beginning; the real ritual begins right after. And no one brings this ritual to life as vividly as Aydın Boysan, a true connoisseur if there ever was one:

“Bring the glass directly underneath your nose and take a deep breath. Embrace and enjoy the aroma. Then sit back and take half a sip but do not swallow. Slowly roll it around your mouth and take another deep breath so that your lungs can enjoy the feast even before your stomach. Next, take your second half sip, sit back, slightly lift your head, and gently swallow. Once you do, move spirally on your seat so that rakı travels down helically. This will extend rakı’s journey and enhance the pleasures it heaps as rakı is at its most delectable after passing through the throat and on its way to the stomach.”

A caveat: The water you keep in the fridge must have a lid on. Otherwise, it will absorb odors and flavors from other foods in the fridge and spoil rakı’s taste.

Diluting raki, source: www.foodelphi.com

According to the author and gastronomist Ebru Erke, the quality of the water used in diluting the rakı has a massive impact on the taste and experience of rakı. She suggests opting for soft water, which has lower levels of minerals like calcium and magnesium. Not only do these minerals diminish rakı’s flavor, but calcium, when it interacts with anethole, may also cause bubbling and riling. So, Erke asserts that although hard water is advised for your daily intake, you should go for the soft option (with a pH level of 6,5-7) for your rakı.

Ice – the interminable debate

With ice, source: www.turkeytravelplanner.com

Nothing divides the opinions of rakı enthusiasts as sharply as the use of ice. Revered names of the rakı world scorn those who add ice to cold rakı claiming it ruins the flavor of the lion’s milk. So much so that Boysan calls those who enjoy a cube or two of ice in their rakı “crass souls.”

And if your rakı warms up too quickly, the no-ice camp suggests using ehlikeyf, a metal nest filled with crushed ice that keeps the rakı cold.

The one issue both camps fully agree on is when to add ice: after water. Otherwise, rakı is crystallized, and not only is the flavor and texture spoiled, but you also end up with what can only be called a visual abomination.

Erke believes there might be a subconscious reason why so many enthusiasts prefer to add ice to rakı: its numbing effect on the roof of the mouth makes rakı taste slightly softer.

Remain tipsy for as long as possible without getting drunk

Like every other cultural institution, rakı has its own unwritten code of conduct; an ethos that grounds, surrounds, and sustains it. Showing respect and kindness, not interrupting or disturbing others, and perhaps most importantly, drinking in moderation and handling your drink. That is, “remain tipsy for as long as possible without getting drunk.”

Rasim remembers how upon realizing that the future author had been immersing himself in the pleasures rakı offers, a family friend and a strong drinker himself, Zühtü Efendi, took him aside and gave him his first and only piece of advice: “I’ve been drinking rakı every evening for the last 50 years. And I have only one piece of advice for you: Every time you pick the rakı glass up, turn your eyes to god and beg him not to let you embarrass yourself. Then drink however much you can.”

So important is the ability to handle rakı that some of the old, traditional meyhanes had a poster hanging on their walls, describing the effects of each glass:

The first glass is good for your body;

The second glass is a reasonable decision;

The third glass numbs your head;

The fourth glass muddies your mind;

The fifth glass hurts your pockets;

The sixth glass breaks hearts;

The seventh glass looks for trouble;

The eighth glass smashes it all;

The ninth glass brings you in front of a judge.

Vefa Zat and Aydın Boysan, source: tourmag.com.tr

In the brilliant words of Vefa Zat, “rakı is not an end but a means to share with your friends; so, make sure you consume rakı and not the other way around.”

Raising a glass – Şerefe! Cheers! Prost! Salud! Santé! Na Zdrowie! Cin Cin!

Istanbul’s Armenian Mezes, Pop-up Meyhane in London by istanbul Elsewhere, photo by Ferhat Elik

Raising a glass, and often clinking as well, is one of the defining rituals of rakı culture. Through it, camaraderie is renewed, life is cherished, happiness is rekindled, and all those present and absent are honored.

And of course, like everything else about rakı, there are rules on raising a glass as well. According to author Necdet Rüştü Efe not everyone sitting at a rakı table can raise a glass; to do so, you must be of a certain age and standing, and revered by everyone at the table: “And, there is only one person I know who can raise a glass at any table and that is Ahmet Rasim.”

Armenian clarinet master Hrant Lusigyan invented his version of Şerefe!: Vorıs Bak! That is, kiss my ass! You raise your glass, say vorıs bak, and then, kiss its bottom before drinking.

Vakt-i Kerahet, or is it rakı o’clock yet?

Vakt-i kerahet – time to start drinking – is, of course, a relative concept. In the classical age of meyhanes, most habitués believed the time to drink arrived after the evening call to prayers and lighting of the oil lamps. However, there have always been those who believe that vakt-i kerahet is simply when one feels like having a glass or two.

Mahmurluk rakısı – the hair of the dog – is enjoyed early in the morning. A strong cup of Turkish coffee follows this single rakı. Kuşluk rakısı – the mid-morning rakı – is taken before lunch and is also always a single. Öğle rakısı – midday rakı – can be single or double but should be restrained to one glass.

Rasim believed that setting the time to stop drinking was more important than determining when to start. According to the master, “rakı devotees should never let those waiting for them at home reheat dinner over and over.”

All good things must come to an end – yolluk and cila

Our two final rituals are often enacted in meyhanes, at the very end of the rakı night. Yolluk – one for the road – is a single rakı that they meyhane does not charge the habitué for. A caveat: it is unbecoming to ask for a yolluk so let the meyhane owner decide whether she will cherish this tradition.

Cila – the varnish – is the glass of beer some choose to drink after finishing with rakı for the night. However, be forewarned: some traditionalists might scorn you for varnishing the lion’s milk.

Serving a Ritual