Yogurt Drinks Make Their Mark Around the Globe

“Got doogh?” Emblazoned on T-shirts and sweatshirts, this cheeky slogan demonstrates just how passionately members of the Persian diaspora feel about doogh, the tangy yogurt beverage that some call the national drink of Iran. Dooghs are one of several yogurt-based beverages with globe-trotting fans. From Southern India to the Eastern Mediterranean, and all throughout the Levant, people make tart, refreshing yogurt-based drinks. Sometimes fizzy, often salted or spiced, these tangy numbers have assorted names. You might sip an ayran in Turkey, doogh in Iran, daweh in parts of Syria or Iraq, laban in Lebanon, or lassi in India. Specifications vary. Ask 10 people how to make their heritage yogurt beverage and you’ll hear at least 12 answers. Still, those who love these yogurt drinks tend to agree on one thing: Mixing them can create connections that transcend time and place

A Perfect Pair

If you’ve ever slurped oysters alongside a glass of Chablis, or chased a beignet with a cup of chicory coffee, you know how a good drinks pairing improves a meal. For many, serving kebabs with yogurt beverages is similarly iconic. “It’s the thing to drink with kebabs,” says Chris Hassaan Francke, owner of The Green Zone, a bar in Washington, D.C. that celebrates Middle Eastern flavors. “The first time I saw it I was like, ‘Well, that’s weird.’ Then I tried it and realized, actually, it makes a lot of sense.”

The proof is in the pH: Yogurt’s sky-high acidity cuts through fatty richness, brightening an otherwise heavy meal. The pairing would be similarly effective with juicy burgers, grilled sausages, or pretty much any meaty dish served at a cookout. “You want that tart finish when you’re eating something so rich,” says Francke. “In places like Iraq, a platter of grilled meat will often come with lemon wedges and sumac, which is also acidic. It’s a really nice contrast.”

Texture is key. Ayrans, dooghs, and other yogurt drinks are thinned with ice and water, so the consistency is more akin to tart lemonade than a creamy milkshake. “It’s so thirst-quenching,” says Louisa Shafia, author of The New Persian Kitchen and owner of Feast by Louisa, an online store featuring curated, Persian culinary supplies. “The foundation of Persian cooking is food as medicine. It’s similar to Ayurveda or traditional Chinese medicine: Everything you eat has an energy to it. Foods have a hot energy and cold energy. And the meal of a kebab and rice with doogh is perfectly balanced because the meat is hot and yogurt is cooling.”

No two yogurt drinks are exactly alike. Some are blended with ice, others are served neat with a chill or at room temperature. Dooghs are typically effervescent—“more of a yogurt soda,” Francke says—while ayrans and lassis usually are still. Shafia likes to put mint, salt, and black pepper in her doogh. But she’s also played around with rose petals, sumac, and garlic. Ayrans might be studded with dried or fresh mint, or infused with garlic, dill, or cucumbers. The lassis served in Indian American restaurants are often sweetened with fruit. But there are all sorts of savory versions spiked with turmeric, chilies, paprika, and other spices.

Diasporic cooks adapt their recipes based on what’s at hand. “In every country, there’s something different that’s available,” says Mansour BouKaram, the chef and owner of Monsieur Bou, a catering company in London, Manchester, and Amsterdam. “You might not have the exact same ingredients everywhere, but the tang of yogurt and flavors of fermentation are available to everyone.

Worlds of Flavor

If you grew up in a household where yogurt drinks are on the table, you probably don’t blink when a pitcher appears alongside a hearty homemade meal. But outsiders sometimes need convincing. “We don’t have a context for it in the West,” says Shafia. “Usually, here, when we have yogurt, it’s sweet. It’s with fruit.”

There’s also the matter of tang. Despite the popularity of buttermilk across the southeastern United States, many Americans aren’t poised to embrace sour-tasting dairy products. “They think of spoiled milk,” says Francke. Eddie Alasad remembers the first time he offered his U.S.-born children homemade ayran. “My kids did not like it,” he says, laughing. Originally from Yemen, Alasad owns Turkish Village, a restaurant in Dearborn, Michigan. Undeterred by his children’s initial reactions, Alasad added fruits and juices with bright colors and familiar flavors until he found ayran riffs that appealed to them. “They like it with beet juice and strawberries,” he says. “And I think the one with pomegranate molasses is their favorite.”

Alasad hopes these drinks help his children connect not only to their Yemeni heritage, but also to broader global communities who share occasionally intersecting histories and experiences. “The people who have traveled to this country, we grew up drinking yogurt drinks,” he says. “When we come here, we eat our traditional meals, and yogurt is a staple in our households. For Iraqis, Turkish people, us Yemenis, Lebanese, the whole Middle East, we all use yogurt. When you make it into an ayran drink, you can give it to the children who are brought up here and don’t understand it. My kids didn’t understand it at first. Now, ayran is the first thing they ask for.”

Raising a glass of something tart and cooling doesn’t erase our differences or solve all our problems. But we can learn a lot by forging connections across generations and geography, and embracing one another’s traditions with open minds. We don’t all occupy the same tables or time zones, but we can share yogurt drinks