Arak - Kesak! Kesik! Keskun!

On Saturday I went with Joe and Seth to Galesburg, IL, to join in the fun of a large family gathering. The occasion? Making arak (drop the k, and say "ara," quickly rolling your tongue on the 'r'), which is a liquor that is traditionally drank in many Middle Eastern countries. The get-together was hosted by Joe's Aunt Ivete Uncle Sarkis, or "Sharky," who headed up the distillation. Arak is a highly alcoholic beverage (think whiskey), but Sarkis checked with the local police to make sure it was legal to distill. Needless to say, it was a great night for all!

Sarkis is explaining the
distillation process.

Sarkis had already started the distillation process by the time we got to their house around 5PM, but we were just in time to listen to him give a great explanation of the steps he follows. The first thing that needs to be done is to havest and smash grapes, preferrably white, because they tend to be sweeter (more sugar=more alcohol), and let them ferment naturally in a container for a period of 20-25 days. Stems and seeds are all left in the mixture, which Sarkis stirs everyday to allow all of the sugar to be converted into alcohol.

The buckets are full of the smashed grape
mixture, though this picture was taken
after alcohol had been derived from it.
The base of the distiller is
also pictured here.

After the fermentation period is over, the actual distillation can begin. Sarkis owns a large distiller that he actually brought back from Lebanon. He fills the kettle-like base with the grapes and then seals the base and the rest of the structure with dough. In Lebanon, clay would usually be used for this purpose. The entire distiller is placed above a fire, which is constantly kept lit. The fire will eventually cause the alcohol to boil off of the fermented grape mixture and rise to the top of the distiller.

The top piece is a hollow stack that ascends up to a dome that is surrounded by a water reservoir. Cold water is run through to cool the alcohol vapors so that they can turn back into liquid. It is extremely important to cool the vapors right away, otherwise you will have what Sarkis refered to as, "a bomb waiting to blow up," inside the distiller. The alcohol slowly drips down through a tube into a collection container. Arak actually means "sweat" in Arabic.

You can see the fire used to boil
the grape mixture.

The liquid alcohol is tested for its purity by splashing a small amount on the fire. As long as it creates a flame, it is still of high purity. Once this fails to occur, it means all the alcohol has been taken from that batch of grapes, and a new batch can be put in the base. A batch of alcohol needs to be distilled at least once more. Until then, it is refered to, in Lebanese Arabic, as spirito (speer-ee-toe). 

Once all of the grapes have produced spirito, Sarkis then distills the alcohol a second time. For this step he adds aniseed to the alcohol. If you have ever tried black licorice, you will know the flavor of anise. It is placed right into the base with the alcohol, and its oil and flavor is carried over into the finished product. Sarkis sometimes even distills the arak a third time to add more flavor and further concentrate the alcohol, but it is ready to drink after the second distillation.

My first cup! Actually,
this was arak that Sarkis
made the year before. Arak is
a clear liquid, but it is often
added to water, which creates
a milky-colored emulsion.

Aside from watching the arak be made, many of Joe and Seth's family were there to visit and enjoy a wonderful potluck, mostly consiting of Lebanese and Brazilian foods. I was extremely thankful for that, because I hadn't eaten the entire day, and I rarely found myself without something to eat. As I said to Seth, "I tried everything, and I could make a meal even out of the things I liked the least." It was all so good!

Check out...

...this spread!

We stayed until two or three in the morning, sitting outside by a fire and laughing the whole time. At one point, Joe and Seth's Aunt Eva taught me how to say "cheers" in Lebanese Arabic. "Kesak (kay-suck)," she said to me, holding out the wine cooler she was drinking (not everyone cares for arak). I was a little confused. "She said, 'Cheers!'" Seth informed me. "You say, 'Kesik (kay-seek),' back to her, since she's a woman. Kesak is used when you are speaking to a man, and you say, 'Keskun (kay-scon),' when speaking to the whole group." 

Joe's mom, Theresa, Seth, cousins Tyler and Elana (sp?), and Joe's brother, Anthony.

Tyler and Elana's dad, Tony, Joe's dad, Henri, me, and
Joe and Seth's Aunt Eva. I have no clue
why I was making that face.

"Kesak," I said, realizing I had messed up before the word fully left my lips. Everyone around just laughed. "Kesik," Seth reminded me. "Kesik," I repeated, holding out my glass, a little embarrassed, just reaching far enough across the fire pit to make contact with Eva's bottle. Luckily, I had many more opportunities to practice that night.