The anise-flavored drink Ouzo is deeply connected with the nation of Greece. It is simply the spirit of Greek summer which no one can copy.
It’s probably the most social drink ever distilled. Those who share this particular flavor, come closer, speak more easily. Ouzo is the drink of companionship and confession.
Ouzo drinking is an art. Or maybe it’s a way of life, says Matt Barrett, an American who writes about Greece. But it’s not the ouzo, it’s who you drink it with that really makes the experience, he adds.
When Greeks say “Let’s go for a little ouzo,” this is not only an important social invitation but also a culinary pleasure that is rarely turned down.
Ouzo conjures up many images but the most common one is a picture of sitting at a seaside taverna as the summertime sun is glowing red and setting over the Aegean Sea.
A carafe of ouzo sits next to a bowl of ice on the table, and several small plates with grilled octopus, fried calamari, small fish in brine, fresh cucumbers and tomatoes, rich feta cheese, plump olives and other Greek delicacies are nearby.
The name “ouzo” has been patented as a Greek alcoholic beverage since 1989 — which means that it can be produced and named in this way only in Greece. Some locations with a long tradition of distilling ouzo are Tirnavos and Kalamata.
But the most popular of all is definitely the island of Lesvos, with the ouzo from Plomari being the best example.
Its production demands special skills; part of it is produced by the distillation of the skins of grapes after wine is produced, but a larger part is water flavored with various aromatic herbs, of which aniseed prevails.
In Greece, ouzo is popular during Lent (Sarakosti), and of course, throughout the summer.
Literature scholars believe the name ouzo originated from the ancient Greek verb “to smell,” or “ozo.” However, romantics prefer to think it comes from the phrase “Ou zo,” or “Without this I can’t live.”
Others see its roots in the Turkish word for grape, “uzum,” and others say it can be traced back to a story about a Turkish consulate doctor in Thessaly in the 18th century who tasted the local raki and cried out, “But this is Uso di Marsiglia!”
The phrase, meaning “For use in Marseilles,” was at the time stamped on crates of silk worm cocoons exported from Thessaly to major merchants in the French port, which had become synonymous with any product of excellent quality.
Whatever its origin, it serves as a very welcome reminder, perhaps most of all this year, of the way summer should be.