Glogg Before ’Nog (Published 2011) (2024)

Long before I was old enough to enjoy fully the pleasures of glogg — the Swedish yuletide wine mulled with orange peel and spices — its aroma had made me an admirer. I can still summon that first whiff, when, as a child, I stepped inside a small inn where a caldron of the stuff was simmering. Though this admission will make Scandinavians cringe, the fragrance evoked a warmed-up bowl of Froot Loops, a 10-year-old girl’s idea of olfactory heaven.

It was the cardamom. (A quick but gratifying Internet search shows that I’m hardly the only one who thinks that the cereal smells uncannily like the spice.) But cardamom also helps distinguish glogg from similar concoctions like Germany’s glühwein and English mulled wine, which typically contain none.

I’m no Viking, but glogg (pronounce the “o” like the “eu” in pneumonia) remains my go-to winter warmer, and I make a huge pot whenever I give a holiday party. I like hot, spiced, spiked cider too, but it can be cloyingly sweet. Glogg allows for more control: it tastes deeply and darkly of wine and citrus and spice, and you may add, or entirely omit, sugar (or liquor). It brings a rosy flush to all who drink it — good cheer in a cup, accompanied, ideally, by the thinnest, crispiest, spiciest gingersnaps.

Glogg is also not without controversy. I recently asked two Swedes, a Swedish-American, a Dane and a Norwegian-American for their recipes, and I got five vastly different formulas. The constants are red wine, orange peel, cloves and cardamom. Beyond these, there are innumerable variables: should vodka or brandy be added to make it stronger? Port? But glogg, like most holiday drinks (how many eggnog recipes have you seen?), is more about the idea than the ideal. As long as the essentials are in place, it will work, even if each individual rendition differs from the next.

My friend Annika Sundvik — a Stockholm native and the proprietor and chef at White Slab Palace on the Lower East Side — is a bit of a glogg minimalist (no spirits, no added sugar) and a lifelong fan. But, she says, back home in Sweden, where glogg parties commence on the first night of Advent and do not cease until Christmas, it’s easy to succumb to “glogg fatigue.” This can be avoided: a single pot of glogg — made for one very cold night per holiday season, to be shared with many friends — should do the trick, even if it leaves you wanting more. Next winter will be here sooner than you think. It always is.

Swedish Immersion, Intermediate Slope

Swedish pop culture isn’t limited to Abba, H & M and the Millennium Trilogy. Here’s a crib sheet for those ready to take the next step.

Listen: Imagine that the singer Jonathan Richman was born in Gothenburg, and you’ll come up with someone a lot like Jens Lekman. Also, Veronica Maggio’s slickly produced, super-poppy songs are irresistible — even if she’s singing in Swedish.

Read: Many works by the 2011 Nobel Literature laureate Tomas Transtromer have been translated into English, and they are stunning. ‘‘The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems’’ will keep you thinking through the winter.

Watch: Lukas Moodysson’s 2000 film ‘‘Together’’ — about an idealistic commune in ’70s Stockholm — is heartwarming all year round.