The Untold Story of Arak
Few people outside the Middle East are familiar with arak, the mother spirit of all distilled spirits.
Arabs invented distilled spirits
For millennia, chemists in Greece and Rome sought to increase the natural levels of alcohol in wine and beer, which they already produced in abundance.
They tried to do this through distillation, the process of separating the components of a liquid through boiling and condensation. However, none succeeded, and it’s very likely that many went blind or died from methanol poisoning in their attempts.
By the fifth century, Western Europe was in the midst of the Dark Ages, when little scientific advancement was made. Arabs picked up where Greeks and Romans left off, making substantial contributions to chemistry, among other disciplines.
Roughly 400 years later, Arab Muslim academic Jabir ibn Hayyan — today, recognized as the creator of algebra and father of chemistry — established the principles of classifying liquid substances by their properties and invented the equipment and techniques to isolate them.
One of Hayyan’s many inventions was the alembic pot still, which he used to distill various liquids. During an experiment to refine the production of al-kohl (eyeliner), he distilled wine — which he discovered resulted in a clear, highly potent spirit.
By then, Islam had already forbidden intoxicants, so Hayyan wasn’t interested in the spirit beyond its academic value. Thus, he concluded it was “of little use, but of great significance to science.”
Not everyone felt the same way. In fact, many Arabs of the Levant and Mesopotamia began consuming the spirit for enjoyment. Abu Nuwas, a ninth century Arab poet, wrote that he found inspiration in a wine that “has the color of rainwater but is as hot inside the ribs as a burning firebrand.”
Fans of the new drink began referring to it as “al-kohl,” after Hayyan’s accidental discovery. When al-kohl reached European ports, the term was heard and mispronounced as “alcohol,” which — of course — remains in use today.
The coincidental discovery of arak
Interestingly, the fusion of aniseed oil and alcohol, which created arak, was just as accidental as the discovery of distilled spirits.
As word of Hayyan’s alembic pot still spread throughout the Middle East, artisans began making and selling them to home distillers. People used the technology to turn surplus wine into al-kohl before it could oxidize. They also used it to produce rosewater, orange-blossom water and herbal essential oils that go into sweets, perfumes and medicines.
Today, distillers use separate stills for spirits and essential oils, as the latter creates residue that can infuse unwanted aromas and flavors into spirits. But at the time, alembic pot stills were expensive, so people used the same one for multiple concoctions.
As this was happening, aniseed was growing in popularity throughout the Middle East as a miracle drug. People boiled it in water and consumed it as tea to cure abdominal pain, colic, indigestion, menstrual cramping, coughs and headaches. Some even ground aniseed into powder to mix with flower for flavorful baked goods.
Due to its popularity, aniseed was one of the first herbs to be distilled into an essential oil, anethole. In fact, the market for anethole was so strong that nearly every distiller in the Levant and Mesopotamia took part in its production.
It is these distillers who historians believe inadvertently fused the residue of aniseed oil with alcohol to create the first anise-flavored spirit.
Drinkers preferred the sweet taste of the anise-flavored spirit to the unflavored eau de vie that was produced until then. As a result, distillers began to distill alcohol with aniseed on purpose to add a stronger dose of anethole that would aid with indigestion, a common ailment associated with summer barbecues.
This conscious fusion required a slower distillation process, which caused the spirit to exit the still’s condenser drop-by-drop. These drops resembled the distillers’ sweat, as they hunkered down next to their hot stills. Thus, the new spirit was called “arak,” Arabic for perspiration.
Later, when someone discovered that diluting arak with water turned it white, the spirit earned the nickname “Halib al-Assad” or “Lion’s Milk.”
Arak quickly went international
Just as with al-kohl, Arab merchants shipped arak to countries throughout the Mediterranean Basin. It wasn’t long before these nations began producing their own versions of the spirit, each modifying it slightly.
For example, the Greeks added more herbs and named it ouzo; the French aged it in oak barrels and called it pastis; the Italians sweetened it and dubbed it sambuca; the Tunisians made it from figs and referred to it as boukha; and the Moroccans produced it from dates and named it mahia. Interestingly, only the Turks stuck with the original recipe, and they named it raki, because they discovered it in Iraq and so to them it was Iraqi.
When Spain and Portugal colonized Latin America, they brought with them their interpretation of arak, Anis, which is now produced throughout the region under the name aguardiente, as well as in the Philippines, under the name anisado.
Many northern and western countries later dropped the aniseed due to its unavailability, and began producing spirits from more abundantly available grains, rather than fruit. This resulted in unflavored spirits like vodka, as well as other infused spirits like gin. Unlike the Middle East where clay amphorae were widely used for storage, the west largely relied on oak barrels. Flavors and color extracted from these barrels created the category of brown spirits, such as brandy, whiskey, tequila and rum.
But arak didn’t just spread to the west. It also went eastward.
In the 13th Century, when the Mongol hordes of Genghis Khan invaded China, Central Asia and the Middle East, the conquerors tried arak, loved it and spread it throughout the Mongol Empire.
Chinese historians noted that the earliest spirits distilled in China were during the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644) and were similar to arak. The Chinese also later dropped the aniseed and used rice wine as the basis for distilled spirits, creating Baijiu, which later developed in Korea as Soju and Japan as Shochu.
In fact, “Aragh” became the word for “distilled spirit” in Armenia, Iran, Azerbaijan, Georgia and Afghanistan, because arak was the first spirit these cultures encountered. Similarly, in the Indian subcontinent and Southeast Asia, distilled spirits are generally known as “Arrack.”
In short, arak, is the oldest spirit in the world, and the mother spirit of all distilled spirits.
Arak succumbed to geopolitics
Nowhere in the world was arak as popular than in its birthplace — Palestine, Jordan, Syria, Lebanon and Iraq.
Here, it continued to thrive because it is the best drink to accompany the local mezze and mixed grill. This is because arak cleanses the taste buds with every sip, refreshing the palate so that one can enjoy a myriad of dishes with contending flavor profiles.
Yet, for the greater part of the last century, the region fell into turmoil and poverty, making authentic arak too expensive for the masses to consume.
Eventually, the market demanded a more affordable alternative, and so industrial arak was born. Makers cut numerous corners in the production process to reduce costs and maintain profitability.
The first thing to go was grapes, because they limited production to a single season and required a labor-intensive process to extract concentrated alcohol from them. To save time and money, makers stopped producing wine as a base for arak. Instead, they imported 96% ethanol in bulk, diluted it and distilled it with aniseed. This allowed for the production of arak quickly, economically and year-round.
Next, aniseed was removed, as it was a costly input. Instead, producers began adding commercial anethole (which is often made from Chinese star anise instead of aniseed) to the 96% ethanol and distilled them together to give the spirit a similar profile to arak.
Some makers even abandoned the distillation process altogether, and created mixing and bottling operations that simply dilute the 96% ethanol to a drinkable strength, back-flavor it with commercial anethole and bottle it.
These producers succeeded in creating a more affordable arak, but its palatability significantly diminished.
Even worse, this subpar arak was mislabelled as authentic, baladi (local), triple distilled and made from grapes and aniseed. The false marketing ruined arak’s reputation for an entire generation of drinkers, who didn’t know better and began to regard arak as inherently distasteful and inferior to western spirits.
Not surprisingly, demand even for cheap, industrial arak fell into a downward spiral.
Making arak great again
Disappointed with the state of arak and eager to preserve our unique distilling heritage, I embarked on a mission to kick-start a arak renaissance in Palestine. similar to that which occurred in Lebanon after the Civil War.
In 2017, I launched Muaddi Craft Distillery, a boutique operation that specializes in genuine, handcrafted, small-batch arak, under the name Arak Muaddi.
My goal was to create arak that is made with passion, artistry and respect for heritage. That meant making it authentic again, and so it had to be “baladi” (Arabic for local).
I sourced indigenous grapes from vineyards located in western Bethlehem and northern Hebron, in the villages of Beit Jala, Al Khader, Shuyukh al-Arrub, Beit Ummar and Halhoul. The aniseed I use is grown in Raba, Jaba and Maythaloun in Jenin. I use water from the Ein Ad-Duyuk Spring, just north of Jericho to dilute it to strength, and I age it in clay amphorae that are handmade in Hebron.
The arak we produce is made according to a traditional recipe and process that has been fine-tuned over a thousand years by our ancestors, and those who’ve tried it are shocked because it’s so different than the industrial arak they’re accustomed to.
Our first vintage debuted in November 2018, and was made in the basement of my house in Beit Jala. It only consisted of 480 bottles, but it was a big hit.
In fact, in 2019 it earned a Gold Medal at the Berlin International Spirits Competition, as well as the title “Arak of the Year”; a Silver Medal at the New York International Spirits Competition, as well as the title “Arak of the Year”; and a Bronze Medal at the London Spirits Competition. Also, in 2020, the Beverage Testing Institute awarded it another Gold Medal.
I participated in these competitions in an effort to restore arak’s glory and to show my people that we have something special that we should revive and take pride in, because arak has not received the recognition and respect that it deserves.
Arak is a key component of the Palestine’s culinary heritage, and hence an integral element of our national identity. It’s just as Palestinian as knafe, za’atar and hummus. Yet, arak drinkers are an aging crowd and I’m often fearful that arak may remain just a part of our past. Nonetheless, I hope that through education and constantly improving quality, arak can continue to bring joy to future generations, and forever remain the Spirit of Palestine.
