The Lion's Milk

From “beer” in Germany and “sake” in Japan to “mouthwash” in prison, many cultures have their own unique drink. In Turkey it is raki; colloquially known as lion’s milk because it not only puts hair on your chest, but is also a reason for sleeping 18 hours a day while your wife catches food.

Raki is a strong spirit that is usually mixed with water turning it white (hence the “milk”). Pretty much identical to Greek Ouzo or Arabic Arak, it tastes of licorice, and based on how one feels about the candy, people either love or hate the drink.

Raki is meant to be enjoyed socially, and while every society has its own drinking etiquette (though most limit theirs to basics like “don’t throw up on the bartender” and “do complain loudly to strangers about your girlfriend”), Turkish raki etiquette takes it a step further by incorporating three essential elements: meze (appetizers), drunken singing and increasingly passionate debates.

Meze

Raki usually accompanies meze: appetizers picked from amongst a large selection that will fill you up long before the main course arrives. To best enjoy the dips and small morsels, discuss casual topics everyone agrees with, from complaining about “the weather” to complaining about “traffic.”

Singing

Raki will induce singing from amongst the Turkish repertoire of songs about love, or longing, or desire or sorrow. They will be sung in a manner to induce melancholy in everyone in at least a three table radius, preferably more.

When drinking raki in public, roaming bands of gypsies will wander tables for tips using their violins/accordions/clarinets to encourage amateur virtuosos. Between bouts of singing, it is best to bring up more involved but still agreeable topics like “how Turkey has changed” and “how you are about to quit your awful job and move to the beach.”

Debate

Eventually, all raki conversations will devolve into a shouting match about politics. Speakers take turns orating “How the country is going down the drain,” “How politicians are idiots” as well as their “solutions,” all to an audience waiting for their turn to speak.

Everyone calmly nods in approval until either the speaker finishes or until they hear something they disagree with. Eventually someone will proclaim “it’s all about education” and everyone, having found a point of agreement, will head home.

Any other way, and you might as well be drinking ouzo.