12 Best Regional Drinks to Try Abroad on Holiday
The first glass of a good trip is rarely the one you planned. It is the slightly chilly cider pressed into your hand at a Basque bar, the honeyed wine offered by a village host, or the frosted tumbler that arrives just as the late-afternoon heat becomes too much. The best regional drinks to try abroad are not simply local specialities. They are little introductions to a landscape, its weather, its rituals and the people who have been perfecting a thirst-quenching answer for generations.
This is not a race to tick off the strongest or strangest thing on the menu. Slow down, order what the neighbouring table is having and let the place set the pace. Here are 12 drinks worth travelling for, with a few thoughts on how to enjoy them properly.
12 best regional drinks to try abroad
1. Sagardoa in the Basque Country, Spain
In the Basque Country, cider is not a sweet, fizzy pub drink. Sagardoa is dry, gently funky and bracingly tart, often poured from on high into a broad glass to wake it up with a little fizz. In a traditional cider house, the barrel is opened with a cry of “txotx”, and diners gather with glasses ready beneath the stream.
It is marvellous with salt cod omelette, grilled beef and a table full of conversation. Visit between January and April for the classic cider-house season, though a bottle on a warm coastal afternoon is hardly a hardship.
2. Txakoli on Spain’s Atlantic coast
A few kilometres away, green hills tumble towards the Bay of Biscay and produce txakoli, a lightly sparkling white wine with vivid citrus and a saline snap. It is traditionally poured from a little height, much like cider, and tastes as though it has caught a breeze from the sea.
Order it with anchovies, grilled prawns or a plate of pintxos in Getaria or San Sebastián. The trade-off is that its bright acidity can feel rather sharp if you prefer soft, rounded whites. Give it a chance with food and it makes perfect sense.
3. Vinho Verde in northern Portugal
On a hot afternoon in the Minho, Vinho Verde has the cheerful, uncomplicated appeal of a holiday flirtation. This northern Portuguese wine is usually pale, light-bodied and sometimes faintly pétillant, with lime, green apple and a refreshing flicker of acidity.
The name means “green wine”, referring more to its youthful style than its colour. Seek it out at a small terrace overlooking the Douro or beside a plate of grilled sardines. It is proof that serious pleasure need not arrive with a solemn label and a long speech.
4. Pastis in Provence, France
In Provence, the late afternoon has a ritual: ice in a glass, a measure of anise-scented pastis, then cold water poured slowly until the liquid clouds to a soft, milky gold. It is aromatic, herbal and unmistakably Mediterranean.
Pastis is not for everyone. Liquorice flavours tend to inspire devotion or a polite retreat. But if you enjoy fennel, anise or absinthe-like herbs, have one beneath the plane trees before dinner and watch how naturally it belongs to the languid rhythm of the south of France.
5. Silvaner in Franconia, Germany
Germany is rightly celebrated for Riesling, but Franconia’s quietly charismatic Silvaner deserves a place in a traveller’s glass. Often bottled in the squat, distinctive Bocksbeutel, it can be dry, gently herbal and textured, with the sort of stony freshness that makes you want another sip rather than a tasting note.
Drink it in Würzburg or among the vineyard villages along the Main, ideally with asparagus in spring or a simple plate of local sausages. This is a wine for people who like a sense of place without too much fanfare.
6. Ouzo on a Greek island
Ouzo is the sound of ice clinking while fishing boats knock gently in a harbour. Greece’s anise-flavoured spirit turns cloudy when diluted with water or ice, releasing sweet herbal aromas and an easy-going invitation to linger.
It should never be rushed or treated as a dare. Sip it slowly with meze: olives, grilled octopus, sharp cheese and whatever has just come in from the sea. The best setting is wonderfully predictable – a small taverna, a view of blue water and no pressing plans whatsoever.
7. Rakia in the Balkans
Across Bulgaria, Serbia, North Macedonia and beyond, rakia is less one drink than a family of fiercely loved fruit brandies. Grape, plum, pear and apricot versions all appear, sometimes homemade and frequently offered with enough pride to make refusal feel unwise.
Accept a small glass, but treat it with respect. Homemade rakia can be considerably more potent than its clear appearance suggests. Served alongside salad, cheese and conversation, it is a generous symbol of welcome rather than a shortcut to the end of the evening.
8. Mezcal in Oaxaca, Mexico
Mezcal has smoke, certainly, but reducing it to smoke is like describing a village church as simply a building. Made from agave, it may be earthy, grassy, savoury, floral or intensely mineral depending on the variety of plant and the producer’s methods.
In Oaxaca, drink it neat from a small cup, take your time and, if offered, nibble orange with sal de gusano between sips. Ask the bartender what is made locally and avoid downing a good pour as a shot. This is a spirit with stories in it.
9. Pisco in Peru
Pisco is central to the pisco sour, Peru’s wonderfully frothy cocktail of pisco, lime, sugar, egg white and bitters. In Lima, Cusco or the vineyards around Ica, it makes a crisp pre-dinner drink with enough character to stand up to the country’s vibrant food.
Chile also claims pisco, and the origin debate is not one to settle after two sours. When in Peru, simply enjoy the Peruvian expression, preferably with a plate of ceviche nearby. The tartness, heat and silky foam are a very fine partnership.
10. Tequila in Jalisco, Mexico
Good tequila is a world away from the party shots many of us remember with a wince. In Jalisco, where blue agave shapes the landscape, a blanco tequila can be peppery, citrusy and surprisingly clean, while reposado gains softer, oak-influenced notes from ageing.
Sip a small measure at room temperature and look for a producer that names its agave origin. A paloma, made with tequila and grapefruit, is also glorious in warm weather, but the neat pour is where the landscape speaks most clearly.
11. Mint tea in Morocco
Not every memorable regional drink needs alcohol. Moroccan mint tea, sweetened generously and poured from a height into small glasses, is hospitality made visible. The bright scent of spearmint arrives before the glass reaches your hand.
You will find it in medinas, mountain guesthouses and desert camps, often offered at moments when you had not realised how much you needed to pause. It can be far sweeter than a British cup of tea drinker expects, but that sweetness is part of its comforting character. Do not be shy about accepting a second glass.
12. Ice cider in Quebec, Canada
Quebec’s ice cider is made from apples concentrated by the cold, resulting in a golden, luscious drink that balances orchard fruit with bright acidity. Think baked apple, honey and a winter walk that ends somewhere warm.
It is particularly lovely with blue cheese, tarte Tatin or simply as a small after-dinner treat. Because it is rich and sweet, a little goes a long way. That is no bad thing: it gives you an excuse to sit by the fire, savour the glass and postpone leaving.
How to drink locally without overthinking it
The best approach is usually the least complicated one. Ask for the house recommendation, order a small serving first and notice what it is paired with. Regional drinks were often shaped by regional food, local crops and the practical business of surviving a particular climate. A chilled Vinho Verde makes sense in Portugal’s summer heat; a warming rakia earns its place on a cooler Balkan evening.
It also pays to be mindful of strength, particularly with spirits and homemade pours. A convivial host may refill your glass with alarming efficiency, and a long lunch can quietly become a very long afternoon. Alternate with water, eat something substantial and remember that the most memorable travel moments tend to remain more vivid when you can still find your way back to the campervan.
Most of all, leave room for the unplanned glass. The drink you remember may not be the famous one at all, but the local red poured in a tiny village café, with the windows open, dinner on its way and nowhere else you need to be.