If you ask ten Americans what the national drink of our country is, you will likely get ten different answers. Do you go non-alcoholic, like Coke or iced tea? Alcoholic beverages? Perhaps. But beer is too varied for any one group to agree on.  Microbrew? Wheat? Guinness? Or even (ew) Bud Light? Hard booze would have its factions, but certainly not everyone drinks vodka, gin or scotch. Wine? There’s only 59 different kinds.

In Turkey, there is no such debate. Without question, the national drink that Turks go for is an alcoholic beverage called raki. Prounonced ROCK-UH, it is the go-to drink for everything from family gatherings, informal meals, weddings or watching the big game. Every self respecting Turk who is not a friend of Bill W. has a bottle in their fridge.

Raki has a recipe for preparation, but it is so simple that even the most inebriated can stumble through it. First, you need a proper raki vessel, normally being a straight glass holding about 5 ounces. Fill halfway with the good stuff, and then add another half glass of water, preferably ice cold. The raki then turns cloudy and opaque. Add an ice cube or two (again, merely preferred, but not required). No fruit flavoring or garnish. Serve with a separate glass of water to sip on. This is always followed by a clinking of glasses with all of your drinking partners, and you are then ready to imbibe.

The taste is that of anise, i.e. black licorice. Served cold enough, it can be refreshing, like a gin and tonic. Served often enough, it will knock you on your ass. The saying is that so long as you drink raki while sitting down you are fine, but once you stand up, it’s all over. There is a tradition of eating fish with raki, and another saying goes that if you eat the fish without raki, the fish will cry in your stomach. I also found it goes well with cigars.

It comes distilled from fermented grapes, an easy crop to grow here, and is firmly entrenched in every Turk’s DNA. Ataturk himself loved raki and would often end his day with a few good slugs of it while discussing policy and issues with his staff. I drank a good bit of it at the wedding we attended, and the resulting bonding experience with my new friends was priceless, for all they needed to know was my name with a questioning “Raki?” as in “does Ereek want more?” My answer was always yes, and a nod of my head brought the bottle over and away we went. It was a bit of a rough morning.

When you visit a foreign country, you should drink what they drink and eat what they eat. For every unappetizing fried sardine, there are five wondrous foods that, chances are, you will not be able to readily get at home. So eat up while you are there. The potential rewards of epicurean perspective, fellowship and, well, good fun are too great to ignore. Following my own advice, I can report that a bottle of raki will be residing in my Smoking Room, so stop by for a sample before Tamer and I drink it all. Just be careful before you stand up.