The History of the Toast for Drinking: Why We Clink Glasses, Say Cheers, and Where Every Country Got Its Version

The toast for drinking is older than most of the nations that practice it. Before electricity, before germ theory, before anyone understood why fermentation worked the way it did, people were already lifting cups together and saying something out loud before they drank. That ritual survived every civilization that picked it up. It crossed oceans, changed languages, and landed in your kitchen on New Year's Eve — and most people have never once wondered how it got there. Worth fixing.

The Actual Origin of the Toast for Drinking (It Involves Real Bread)

The word itself comes from a Roman practice that made it into medieval England: a piece of spiced or charred bread — actual toast — was dropped into a communal wine vessel to absorb acidity and improve the flavor. The wine was passed around, and the person being honored was connected to the bread floating in it. To drink "to someone's health" meant drinking the vessel down to the toast. The bread was the point. The person was the reason.

By the 17th century in Britain, the physical bread had mostly disappeared, but the word stayed. The history of drinking vessels and rituals is full of moments like this — where the object fades and the gesture remains, carrying the original meaning without anyone quite knowing why.

The Romans weren't the first, either. Ancient Greeks made libations to the gods before drinking — pouring a small amount onto the ground or altar as an offering. Norsemen drank from horns and pledged loyalty at the rim. The specific form changed constantly. The underlying impulse — mark the moment, say the thing out loud, drink together — never did.

Why We Clink: The Poison Theory and the Sensory Theory

Two competing explanations exist for why we tap glasses together, and I think both are probably partially true.

The more dramatic one is the poison theory: that clinking glasses hard enough to slosh liquid between cups was a way of proving your drink wasn't poisoned. If you were trying to kill someone, you wouldn't want their wine in yours. It's a good story. Historians generally consider it more legend than fact — there's no solid documentary evidence that this was the stated reason behind the practice.

The more credible explanation is sensory completeness. Medieval drinking was a full-body experience: you could smell the wine, see the color, feel the cup, taste the drink. Sound was the only sense left out. Clinking added it. A toast for drinking that engaged all five senses was a more total act of communion — and communion, in the social sense, was exactly the point.

Both explanations agree on one thing: the clink was never accidental. It was always intentional. You were making a statement with your body before the words even started.

◆ From the Workshop: When you're buying a new waterstone for sharpening, the stone needs to soak in water for at least five minutes before first use — but the real sign it's ready isn't a timer, it's when the bubbles stop rising from the surface. Those bubbles are trapped air escaping from the pores, and a stone that's still off-gassing is a stone that's still dry inside where it counts. Start sharpening too soon and you're grinding on a partially dry surface that loads up with swarf and cuts unevenly from the first stroke.

Frequently Asked Questions

Is there a wrong way to clink glasses during a toast?

Etiquette varies by culture, but the most persistent rule in Western tradition is eye contact — skipping it is considered rude in Germany and France, where some people will tell you it invites bad luck for seven years. In Japan, the person of lower status should hold their glass slightly lower than the senior person's glass. The short version: look at the person, not the drink.

What's the difference between a toast and a roast?

A toast honors someone — it's a short, sincere (or warmly funny) tribute spoken before a drink. A roast is a comedic takedown, usually at a formal event where the guest of honor has agreed to be the target. The two overlap at weddings and retirement parties, which is why best man speeches tend to age either very well or very badly.

Are there toasts that are considered bad luck to give?

Several. In Hungary, clinking beer glasses is still avoided by many people — it traces to an 1849 legend about Austrian generals celebrating with beer after executing Hungarian revolutionaries. In Russia and some Slavic countries, toasting with water is considered bad luck for the person being honored. And across much of Europe, crossing arms with someone else while clinking is thought to bring misfortune.

How Every Country Developed Its Own Toast for Drinking

Once the ritual spread out of Rome and into the broader world, every culture put its own stamp on it. A few worth knowing:

• Ireland / UK — Cheers: The most exported toast in the English-speaking world. Originally a shortening of "good cheer," meaning good spirits or good fortune. Casual, warm, and now so common it barely registers as a word.
• France — Santé: Literally "health." The French have been saying some version of this since the 16th century, and it remains the standard. Short, clean, no ceremony required.
• Germany — Prost: From the Latin "prosit," meaning "may it benefit." Germans take eye contact during a toast seriously — breaking it mid-clink is considered impolite, and in some regions it's said to bring bad luck.
• Japan — Kanpai: Translates roughly as "dry cup" — the expectation being that you drain it. The formality of the toast in Japan is tied to hierarchy; it matters who speaks first and who holds their glass at what height.
• Russia — Za zdorovye: "To health." Russian toasting culture is famously elaborate — long speeches, multiple rounds, specific toasts for specific moments in an evening. The first is usually to the host or the occasion. The third is traditionally to love.
• Hebrew — L'chaim: "To life." Used across Jewish communities worldwide, it carries a weight that most one-word toasts don't — life itself as the thing worth raising a glass to.
• Spain / Latin America — Salud: Also "health," like the French version, but with a warmer register in practice. Often followed by "dinero y amor" — health, money, and love — depending on who's at the table.

What strikes me about this list is how narrow the themes actually are. Nearly every toast for drinking in every language is wishing someone health, life, or good fortune. The words are different. The wish is the same.

What the Ritual Is Actually Doing

Here's my actual take: the toast for drinking is not really about the drink. It never was. The drink is just the mechanism — the shared object that gives everyone something to hold while the real transaction happens, which is acknowledgment. You are here. I see you. This moment matters enough to mark.

That's why toasts survive even when the drinks are sparkling water and the occasion is a Tuesday-night dinner. The liquid is almost beside the point. What people want is the pause — the collective stopping of normal time, the looking-at-each-other, the saying of something true or funny or both.

We wrote a piece on how a funny bar sign can shift the whole mood of a gathering, and the same logic applies here: the words on the wall and the words spoken over a raised glass are both doing the same job. They're giving people permission to feel the room they're already in.

If you're putting together a home bar space that actually earns its keep as a gathering spot, the bar sign collection here is where I'd start — carved hardwood, made in Kentucky, the kind of thing that says something before anyone's poured a drink. And if you want one specific piece that captures the spirit of the whole tradition — the permission, the humor, the gentle nudge — this carved bar sign pretty much says it directly.

The toast for drinking has survived empires, plagues, Prohibition, and the invention of texting. It will survive whatever comes next, because it is not about the alcohol or the occasion or the specific words. It is about the oldest thing people do — look at each other across a table and decide that this, right here, is worth remembering. Raise your glass to that.