September 21, 2025
When you travel through Ecuador and Perú, the word chicha pops up in conversations like it’s one universal drink. But here’s the trick: chicha doesn’t mean the same thing everywhere — and what arrives in your cup (or gourd bowl) might surprise you.
In Perú, chicha is everywhere. The purple, non-alcoholic chicha morada is basically the national soft drink, sold in every restaurant. Sweet, fruity, and spiced with cinnamon and clove, it’s so refreshing you’ll order a second glass without thinking twice. Then there’s chicha de jora, the highland corn beer. Farmers sip it daily, roadside stalls sell it in plastic jugs, and it shows up at festivals in big clay mugs called potos. It’s tangy, sour, and rustic — a little funky, like a homemade craft brew that doesn’t always follow the recipe.
Cross into Ecuador, and things change. You rarely see chicha for sale in towns. In the Sierra, chicha de jora still exists, but it’s mostly tucked away in Indigenous communities, saved for fiestas and rituals. On the coast, fruit-based chichas might appear during celebrations, but they’re not part of daily life. And in the Amazon? That’s where chicha still reigns — but not in the way travelers might expect.
In places like Coca, Ecuador, you’ll hear about chicha de yuca, also called masato in Perú. This isn’t a sweet soda — it’s a daily staple in Kichwa and Shuar homes, served in big bowls to family and guests alike. Thick, earthy, sometimes sour, it’s made from cassava that’s boiled, mashed, and fermented. Traditionally, the fermentation was started by chewing the cassava and spitting it back into the batch — a fact that either fascinates or terrifies outsiders. But the meaning of the drink is bigger than its flavor: sharing chicha is the Amazonian equivalent of offering coffee or tea. Refuse it, and you risk refusing their welcome.
No, not necessarily. Not because it is or isn't delicious or refreshing. It’s necessary because it’s cultural currency — a sip of belonging.
If you’re traveling through the region, here’s what to expect:
Take a sip, smile, say thanks, and pass the bowl along. You don’t have to love every version of chicha — but by trying it, you’re tasting not just a drink, but centuries of tradition still alive today.
When you travel, you expect plazas, rivers, markets. What you don’t always expect is a bowl of fermented cassava, passed around like sacred water. But in Coca — and in many spots across Ecuador and Peru — that bowl is chicha, and it tells a whole story.
Right now, I'm in Coca, Ecuador. This town is in the western Amazon Basin. Coca has the malecón, river views, boats, jungle smells — but chicha de yuca is one of those small things you might miss unless someone offers. And when they do, suddenly you’re part of something deeper: community, tradition, belonging.
Having the bowl handed to you is the ritual: don’t refuse. A couple of polite sips, a smile, a “gracias por compartir,” and you’re in. If you’ve had chicha de jora before, it’s easier. If it’s masato, brace for surprises — but it’s still an honor.
The texture, taste, sourness vary by who made it, how long it fermented, whether they used saliva in the starter (yes, that’s often part of traditional masato prep), how much water or cassava starch. So don’t judge one bowl by another.
| Type | Flavor / Texture | Where You’ll Find It | What to Do When it Arrives |
|---|---|---|---|
| Chicha morada | Sweet, fruity, mild | Everywhere Peru; tourist/restaurants | Drink freely. Compliment sugar/fruits |
| Chicha de jora | Sour, tangy, “rustic beer” | High Andes (Peru & Ecuador), farms, fiestas | Sip, compare to beer. Be honest. |
| Chicha de yuca / masato | Earthy, thick, sometimes chewy/sour | Amazon docks, Indigenous homes, villages | Take a small bowl, hand-around, thank deeply. |
Here are some verified sources if you want to drop in footnotes or “further reading”:
Coca isn’t just river + market: it’s a junction of stories. Each bowl of chicha is one of them. If you’re blogging towns, don’t gloss over the small rituals. Those sips are more memorable than many big tourist sights.
I used to teach English as a foreign language in Barranquilla, Colombia. Now I'm retired and traveling throughout South America.
I'm from Kennewick, Washington, USA. In my previous life, as I call it, I was an IT guy, systems administrator, computer tech, as well as a shipping/receiving guy and also worked as a merchandising guy in a RV/Camping store.