Licorice haters, unite. Yemenite Arak is your new drink.
Licorice haters, unite. Yemenite Arak is your new drink.
The story of Yemenite Moonshine.
My first experience with Arak, the ubiquitous anise-flavored libation of the Middle East, was not pleasant. When the liquor hit the glass and the bold smell of anise hit me, I knew I was in trouble. I’ve never been much of a drinker but I figured I’d quickly shoot it down, shove some food in my mouth, and be done with it. But then my host poured water in my glass and what was a manageable shot turned into an entire glass of diluted cloudy licorice liquid hell.
Some suggest that glycyrrhiza glabra, the compound responsible for the distinctively intense flavor of fennel, black licorice, and anise, bears a chemical resemblance to artificial sweeteners. This makes sense since for me there’s nothing worse than diet soda. Its bitter but cloying aftertaste that mocks true sweetness is just horrific.
Even as I write this, my face is contorted in disgust. I reckon this must be how people with the genetic variants associated with disliking cilantro feel. It’s the boldness. It makes itself known to everyone in the room. It just comes in too hot. We all know that guy.
HI I AM LICORICE AND I AM GOING TO BE BITTER AND KIND OF SALTY AT THE SAME TIME YOU WILL HAVE MY HERBAL MEDICINAL FLAVOR LINGERING IN YOUR MOUTH FOR THE REST OF THE DAY AND I WILL PREVENT YOU FROM ENJOYING ANY OTHER FOODS I AM LICORICE.
Real talk. I’ve had a grapefruit arak cocktail with fresh mint that was palatable due to the conservative amount of liquor. And, on a hot day, a cold shot of arak mixed with North African rossetta (almond flavored sugar syrup) is welcomed, as long as the ratio favors the sweet.
The word arak comes from the Arabic word araq which means “perspire” or “sweat”. While the word arak is most associated with the grape distilled brandy flavored with anise seeds, arak describes the act of distillation.
In Yemen, there exists another type of arak that uses neither anise nor fresh grapes.
Naqe'e Al Zabib is a Yemenite beverage enjoyed by its Muslim population made by soaking raisins in water overnight for a sweet infusion (Muhammad himself recommended the drink!). Just one night though, lest the concoction ferments and converts the sugars to alcohol — which is of course haraam (forbidden) in Islam. According to the Hadith (Islamic law), it is even forbidden to mix dried dates with fresh grapes to avoid inadvertently making wine.
The Jews, of course, had no such restrictions and got their drink on. At the conclusion of the fermentation process they would distill the infusion into a potent moonshine which was not only enjoyed by the Jewish community but sold on the down low to their Muslim neighbors.
In his 1937 book, In the High Yemen, Hugh Scott (a British entomologist who has three beetles species named after him) wrote that the Jews were allowed to make alcohol (including wine) in their own quarter but were forbidden from bringing it into the Arab quarters. Smuggling of the drink by night to the more lax Muslims is, however, not infrequent, as Scott wrote: the liquor was “pleasant to the taste, but somewhat heavy and potent; not the best drink for ten o’clock on a hot bright Saturday morning.”
Despite the tolerance of the authorities that allowed Jews to produce alcoholic beverages, if a Muslim was found wandering drunk in the street it couldn’t be ignored and the Jews were punished.
Accusations (likely true) of selling alcoholic beverages to Muslims have always been the pretext for violence against the Jewish community. The entire community was often blamed and suffered due to the actions of one person. On more than one occasion, Rabbis have admonished people for selling alcohol to the Muslims and triggering by their irresponsible action disasters upon the Jewish communities. Members of the community were even threatened with excommunication for this act. The demand for alcohol, however, had to be met. In particular, local Ottoman officers "encouraged" the sale to soldiers but turned a blind eye to their consumption.
Even as late as 2007, Jews had to flee their villages and go into hiding due to the (still likely true) accusations of libation creation.
There’s an old Yemenite saying, “God has troubled the Jew with arak and the Muslim with khat.”
Khat is Yemen's most valuable cash crop and its most popular drug. Mostly men sit around, chewing the leaves, and chatting away or zoning out as the leaf’s stimulant properties kick in. It’s an upper and it’s hypothesized that the Jews in Yemen had problems with alcohol as a result of using arak to help come down and get some sleep after buzzing through a long khat session.
In the 1870s, a visiting Britishman even noted that the Jews of Aden, “had a dissipated look, on account of their indulgence in home-brewed spirits”. I’m just throwing this out there but perhaps the dissipated look might also have had something to do with the Jews being dhimmis (second class citizens)?
But that was then. Today, with over 435,000 people, Israel’s Yemenite community is thriving and despite their food and culture being an integral part of Israeli society, you won’t find one liquor store with Yemenite arak on its shelves. It’s still being made in the kitchens of apartments in Rosh Ha’ayin and backyards of moshavim where Yemenite Jews were settled. Someone looking to buy some homemade hooch posted in a Yemenite culture Facebook group and had many enthusiastic distillers respond.
The only physical place I’ve seen Yemenite arak for sale is at The Etrog Man, a purveyor of Yemenite folk medicine in the Mahane Yehuda Market in Jerusalem. They call it המשמח, roughly translated as “The Happy Maker” and purports to “bring peace and calm.”
You can buy it straight, khat infused (hard pass for me), infused with ginger, or mixed with passion fruit.
And to the long dead British entomologist who complained about it not being the best drink for ten o’clock on a hot bright Saturday morning, I’m going to assume he hasn’t had a shot of The Etrog Man’s passion fruit arak straight from the freezer on a hot Mediterranean summer day.
Shalom from Israel,
Harry