Burkay Adalığ, the author who believes that a drink’s identity is shaped more by its geography than its label, embarks on a flavorful journey through the rich history of the 600-year-old rakı in his latest book, Kadehte Rakı Beyazı.
How do you enjoy your rakı? Neat, with a splash of water, on the rocks, or with a twist of turnip juice? However you prefer it, there’s one thing about rakı that remains unchanged: it brings people together. Adalığ, widely known for his expertise in whiskey, has been a passionate participant in these convivial rakı gatherings for nearly twenty-five years. Now, with Kadehte Rakı Beyazazı freshly out, he deepens the conversation, offering readers an all-encompassing guide to rakı. We flipped through the pages of this beautifully crafted book, exploring the vibrant world of rakı.
Although you’re often associated with whiskey—our last conversation was about your whiskey book Maltın Peşinde—today we’re here to chat about rakı and your new book. What’s the story behind Kadehte Rakı Beyazı?
In 2020, I penned my second book, İmbikten Kadehe, where I explored the world of distilled spirits. The inspiration to write it actually began with a tweet I posted at the time. A follower, in response to a tweet I made about distillation and rakı, asked, “Is rakı made from grapes?” I was taken aback that such a quintessential detail about this traditional drink was unknown to many. That’s when I knew I had to write İmbikten Kadehe. The result was a comprehensive, much-loved guidebook, although I had to limit the space I could dedicate to each spirit. In my research, I gathered a wealth of notes on rakı’s history, but there was so much more I wanted to explore.
Even though I’m often associated with whiskey, rakı holds a special place in my heart. For nearly twenty-five years, I’ve made it a tradition to enjoy a rakı table at least once or twice a week. The drink itself and the lively conversations that accompany it are something I cherish. About a year after İmbikten Kadehe was published, I was asked to contribute a chapter on the history of drinks in Istanbul for a book called Istanbul Flavors from Past to Present. This led me back into the archives of rakı’s history, and my collection of notes continued to grow. After almost three years of research and writing about rakı, I felt compelled to create a thorough work that delves into every aspect of this beloved drink.
One chapter of the book is titled “How Do You Take Your Rakı?” where you dive into the various ways people enjoy this iconic drink. So, how do you take your rakı?
First, I must thank my editor, Nur Can Kara, for inspiring this question. Can had some great ideas for the chapter titles. As for how I personally enjoy my rakı, it’s a bit of a long story. When I started drinking rakı about twenty-five years ago, there were only three or four brands available, and they all tasted pretty similar. Fast forward to today, and the landscape has completely changed. There are now around sixty brands, each with its own distinct flavor profile, and I’ve included many of them in the book.
The main takeaway is that rakı no longer has just one standard taste. Just as whiskey and wine vary in flavor, so does rakı. How I drink my rakı depends on the occasion and the table. For example, if I’m enjoying a 100% fresh grape rakı with light summer appetizers, I might drink it straight. On the other hand, old-style traditional rakı has a richer flavor, and I usually pair it with water and ice. My preferences even change as the evening progresses; towards the end of the night, I tend to go back to drinking it straight, so I can feel the alcohol more and slow down my pace. So, the way I drink rakı really varies depending on the brand and the mood of the table.
What do you think about the new trends and the shift away from tradition in rakı?
Rakı trends actually have their own chapter in my book. Rakı is a drink with production methods strictly regulated by the food codex, so it’s not easy to introduce major variations. You can’t legally create a flavored rakı—like a mastic rakı—or label a drink made from other fruits as rakı. To innovate within these rules, producers tweak aspects like the shape of the retort or the number of distillations of anise. With rising competition, we’re starting to see more diverse rakıs on the market, which I think is a great development. I don’t view it through a purely traditional lens; I’m excited by the introduction of new flavors.
How have consumption habits changed, based on your research for the book?
Globally, premium and super-premium drinks are booming, and we’re seeing the same trend with rakı. The rise of new-generation taverns has sparked a renewed interest in rakı among younger people. For example, during my university years between 1991 and 1997, sitting at a rakı table was unheard of for students—it was more of a drink for our fathers. But now, younger generations are embracing rakı too.
Another shift is the increasing number of female rakı drinkers. Although I find it outdated to categorize drinks as “men’s” or “women’s,” rakı and whiskey have traditionally been seen as men’s beverages. While writing the book, I conducted a survey on rakı consumption habits, with 4,360 participants—22% of whom were women, mostly between the ages of 25 and 35. Over time, we’ve seen changes not just in who drinks rakı, but also in where and how it’s enjoyed, as well as what foods are paired with it.
“Drinks and food don’t have a country; they have a geography.”
The growing presence of women in taverns seems to reflect this…
Indeed, until the 1870s, women were virtually absent from taverns. It wasn’t until the early 1900s that women began frequenting these spaces, and some even started running taverns. By the 1940s, casinos began opening, which Reşat Ekrem Koçu describes as the “alafranga” (Western-style) version of the tavern. This rich culture thrived until the 1990s and has since evolved into the new generation of taverns we see today.
Can you share some insights on the nuances of rakı tasting?
Rakı tasting is an area where we still have a lot to learn. Despite the variety of rakıs available, most people don’t take the time to savor the aroma or explore the subtleties. There’s also little formal education on rakı tasting. Plus, the traditional long, thin rakı glasses aren’t ideal for capturing the drink’s aroma. And since we don’t often sit down for rakı tastings, it’s hard to compare the flavors. To enhance our appreciation, I suggest approaching rakı from a tasting perspective—smelling, comparing different brands, and reflecting on what you’ve enjoyed at previous tables.
In your book, you explore rakı-like drinks from different regions. We’re quite familiar with ouzo, but what else is out there?
Absolutely—drinks and food are shaped by their geography, not by national borders. Drinks have never been confined to an atlas. Wherever grapes grow, you’ll find wine and rakı. In regions where wine is produced, you’ll often come across rakı-like spirits, known by different names such as arak, rakija, or boğma rakı, depending on the area. For example, in the South, boğma rakı is made from figs or dates, while in the Balkans, similar drinks are distilled from fruits like quince and figs. We’re well-acquainted with ouzo and tsipouro from our trips to Greece, our closest neighbor. Interestingly, arak from Beirut is actually the most similar to our rakı, and their drinking culture is quite similar too. But because we haven’t been exposed to it as much, it feels more foreign to us. One of the key differences between our rakı and other rakı-like drinks, such as ouzo or the ones made in Italy, is the ingredients. Our rakı is made exclusively from pimpinella anisum (anise), while ouzo, for instance, often includes fennel, thyme, and star anise, making it a sweeter drink due to the sugar content.
When I visited Greece last year, I sampled about thirty different brands, tasting not only ouzo but also tsipouro. What’s interesting is that tsipouro isn’t made from grapes but from grape pomace, similar to grappa. Tsipouro with aniseed is actually closer to our rakı than ouzo is. On the island of Crete, they also make a drink called rakí, but despite the name, it’s quite different from our version. Even though these drinks all share the scent of anise, they are distinct in their own right. That’s why I emphasize that we should always call it rakı—it’s a drink with a specific geographical identity. I often use Mexico as an example; they’ve protected tequila so well that it can only be labeled as tequila if it’s produced within Mexico’s borders.
“The only cure for a hangover is not to get one.”
With all this talk about rakı, give us a few fun facts to impress our friends…
Sure! Did you know that Umurca Rakı, produced in the 1880s, was the first branded rakı in Turkey? Another surprising fact is that all the rakı on the market today is göbek rakı. Göbek rakı refers to the highest quality alcohol, extracted from the middle part of the distillation process, and all brands use this for their bottling. You might also hear a lot about sugar and sugar-free rakı lately. Interestingly, even a rakı with no added sugar can taste sweet because the anise molecule is 12 times sweeter than a sugar molecule!
So, what’s the key to enjoying rakı without regretting it the next day?
Moderation and pacing are essential. Our liver can metabolize one unit of alcohol per hour, so it’s best to stick to one unit per hour, whether it’s rakı or another drink. Taking breaks with soda, ayran, or even tea—though I’m not a fan of the latter at a rakı table—can also help. But above all, avoid overindulging. When you go to bed with a high blood alcohol level, you’re likely to wake up with what we call a “hangover.” Alcohol dehydrates the body and depletes it of salts, minerals, and sugars, so it’s important not to drink on an empty stomach. That’s why rakı, melon, and cheese make such a perfect trio. Interestingly, the moment when your blood alcohol level hits zero after a night of heavy drinking is often when you feel the worst. So, my solution is simple: “The only cure for a hangover is not to get one.”
What are your favorite taverns in Istanbul?
The pandemic has definitely encouraged us to enjoy more local entertainment, and like many people, I tend to stick to my own neighborhood, which is Cihangir. I used to frequent Aliye Meyhane before it closed. I also love Jash, an Armenian tavern where you can find unique and delicious mezes like topik and stuffed mackerel. Sur Balık is another favorite of mine, and Aret’in Yeri in Nevizade is one of the few places where you can still find traditional, old-style appetizers.
The book features some mouthwatering mezes—what are your personal favorites?
The meze chapter was one I really wanted to get right, so I asked my friend Emine Turay to write it. Emine comes from a family of chefs from Beirut, and when we first met years ago, she hosted us at her home. That night, I experienced what a true feast is like for the first time, with a long, narrow table packed with an array of incredible flavors. She’s a master of not just Middle Eastern mezes, but all types. In the book, we’ve included her recipes along with some of her special tips. Everyone’s tastes are different, but I’m particularly fond of eggplant mezes. I’d love to see more artichoke mezes on menus, and I feel like fish mezes are becoming a bit rare. In a city like Istanbul, with its deep connection to the sea, I’d love to see more fish mezes, calamari, and octopus at our tables.
How do you feel about rakı cocktails?
Rakı isn’t typically the first choice when we think of cocktail bases—rum and vodka usually come to mind for that. These spirits are more versatile, easily blending with other ingredients to create new flavors. Just like how a painter uses a blank canvas to showcase every color, vodka has a neutral profile that lets other flavors shine. Rakı, on the other hand, has a strong, distinctive anise flavor, which makes it more challenging to use in cocktails. Traditionally, rakı is enjoyed straight or diluted with water, and that’s how most people prefer it. In fact, when I surveyed people about rakı cocktails, 75 percent said they’d never tried one, and they’re not commonly available.
However, there are some pioneers in the rakı cocktail scene, like master mixologist Fatih Akerdem. He shared some of his unique recipes with us for the book, including a popular one that uses tahini halva—it’s surprisingly easy to make, and you can find the recipe in the book. While rakı may not seem like an obvious choice for cocktails, in the hands of a skilled mixologist, it can be transformed into something delicious. Who knows, maybe we’ll introduce rakı to the world not just through traditional rakı tables, but through innovative rakı cocktails.
Any exciting new projects on the horizon?
Always! Since I left the corporate world in 2019, I’ve devoted myself entirely to writing and education. I spend seven to eight hours a day researching and writing. I’m particularly fascinated by the history of spirits, and I’m considering putting together a comprehensive guide on the subject. I’m also a big tea lover, so I’m working on a tea book as well. It’s interesting—Turkey was one of the last countries to adopt tea, yet now we consume more tea than anyone else. Plus, we still have a lot to learn about how to brew the perfect cup. I want to explore all of that in my tea book.
I also have a few more whiskey books in the works. I’m planning a series of budget-friendly handbooks that students can afford. And before the end of this year, I’ll be releasing a fairy tale book! It’s a story I wrote for my nephew about a little lamb living in Scotland. I wanted to share the beauty of Scotland—a land full of sheep, lambs, and breathtaking nature—with children.
