From glögg to glühwein: Mulled wine in all its variations ushers in a cozy holiday season

Every November for the last 25 years, a lively crowd of regulars has packed Simon’s Tavern in Andersonville for a can’t-miss holiday tradition. The Prohibition-era speakeasy, operating legally since 1934, is an institution in Chicago, known for its live music and kitschy Swedish decor. But on one special night — this year on Thanksgiving Eve — they gather to kick off the official start of glögg season.

Scott Martin, the tavern’s owner, serves as master of the ceremony, pouring steaming pots of house-made glögg into five-gallon dispensers for the waiting throng. As the tavern fills with the smell of red wine and cinnamon, orange peels and cardamom, he’ll call out from behind the bar, “What time is it?” That’s the cue for his patrons to roar back in unison, “It’s glögg time!” And just like that, the holidays have officially begun. Glögg, or gløgg, if you’re Norwegian, is just one of many variations of mulled wine savored throughout the chilliest corners of the world.

The French enjoy their vin chaud, the British their wassail. In Germany and Austria — and at Chicago’s Christkindlmarket too — it’s known as glühwein. Usually, mulled wine is made from red wine, although sometimes white, sweetened and simmered with citrus peels and a medley of warming spices.

Whatever alcohol is evaporated while cooking is often replaced with a shot of liquor, typically aquavit, vodka, brandy or rum. Served steaming hot, “it’s just Christmas in a mug,” Martin says. Martin’s glögg originates from his father’s recipe, starting with a base of Fairbanks Cellars California Port.

“It’s just cheap communion wine,” he says, the same wine they still serve at nearby Ebenezer Lutheran Church where his father, Thomas, was the church soloist and his mother, Delores, was a secretary. He won’t reveal the exact recipe, but it’s distinguished from other mulled wines by the sweetness it gains from yellow raisins and almonds steeped in the glögg. The use of real spices, “and no artificial flavorings ever,” is key, Martin says.

Martin has been making glögg since he bought the bar in 1994. “That Christmas, I made 70 gallons of glögg,” he says. “Last year, we went through 3,000 gallons just in December.

” To keep up with the demand, he starts cooking glögg in September, 15 gallons at a time. Of course, nostalgia for mulled wine isn’t exclusive to Scandinavians. For Katja Scharnagl, a sommelier and portfolio manager for Skurnik Wines & Spirits, an importer and distributor, the warming, spicy aroma of glühwein instantly transports her to Christmas in her native Austria.

“It’s the smell of Christmas markets in Vienna or Salzburg,” she explains. “Those hot mugs of glühwein keep you warm in the cold while you walk for hours, shopping or listening to Christmas carols,” Scharnagl says. Advent Sunday was spent at her grandmother’s house where “my grandmother always kept a pot of glühwein simmering on the stove,” she recalls.

And no glass of glühwein is truly complete without a side of vanillekipferl, the quintessential Austrian Christmas cookie — a crescent-shaped butter cookie studded with almonds and dusted in powdered sugar. Scott Martin at his bar Simon’s Tavern on, Oct. 31, 2024, with a bottle of glögg he makes at the Andersonville establishment.

(Terrence Antonio James/Chicago Tribune) Glögg made at Simon’s Tavern, 5201 N. Clark St., in Chicago’s Andersonville neighborhood.

(Terrence Antonio James/Chicago Tribune) Since moving to America, Scharnagl has come across more than a few interpretations of glühwein, many that sorely miss the mark, she admits. Tea bags sold to make mulled wine are the worst offenders, Scharnagl says, especially since delicious mulled wine can be made so easily from scratch. Scharnagl suggests starting with an inexpensive light red wine, nothing too tannic or high in alcohol.

In Austria, wines such as zweigelt or blaufränkisch are common, but any easy drinking dry red would suffice. The wine is simmered with sugar, citrus peels, cinnamon sticks and clove, she says, plus a bit of water “so you don’t feel bad about having two, or maybe even three cups of it”. For adults, glühwein might be spiked “mit schuss,” often a shot of rum or brandy.

For her children, Scharnagl makes a non-alcoholic kinderpunsch, fruit juice and tea infused with citrus peels and spice. Indeed, you’ll encounter a wide variety of mulled wines throughout Chicago, both staunchly traditional and original. The Violet Hour, a cocktail bar in Wicker Park, introduces a fresh take on mulled wine each autumn, usually just as soon as temperatures drop to an icy chill.

The foundation for any mulled wine is the blend of baking spices used, says Karli Sandos, lead bartender at The Violet Hour. “Piquant, warming spices like star anise, cloves, cardamom and ginger leave that little tickle on your tongue, tricking your body into thinking there’s something spicy going on,” she explains. This season, The Violet Hour is debuting a warm mulled-wine cocktail “prepared à la minute,” Sandos explains.

Instead of a slow-simmered wine infused with spices, The Violet Hour’s cocktail is “built-to-order in the glass,” she says, a base of red wine and ruby Port accented by spirits and liqueurs macerated with classic mulled-wine spices. Luxardo’s Amaro Abano, for example, “is a Christmas bomb of baking spice,” she explains, an Italian bitter infused with cardamom, cinnamon and bitter orange peel. The addition of a dry curaçao that “tastes like biting into an orange” lends freshness and sweetness to the cocktail without being overly saccharine.

Like all mulled wine, it’s “cozy and soul-warming” says Sandos, a sweet embrace in a mug, just warm enough to melt away winter’s chill and usher in a cheery holiday season. The Violet Hour’s Mulled Wine À La Minute Sandos suggests a fruity, medium-bodied red wine that’s low in tannin as the foundation of this cocktail. The Violet Hour uses Mary Taylor’s Sophie Siadou, a gamay blend from Valençay in France’s Loire Valley.

For body and flavor, Sandos adds an overproof rum blend that echoes the festive flavors of mulled wine — raisin, prune, cinnamon, ginger or nutmeg, she says. Alchermes, a scarlet-hued liqueur traditional to Italy, lends a bit of sweetness along with hints of vanilla, rosewater and cardamom. Makes: 1 drink 1 1⁄4 ounces red wine 3⁄4 ounce ruby Port 1⁄2 ounce Planteray O.

F.T.D.

Rum 1⁄2 ounce Luxardo Amaro Abano 1⁄4 ounce Heirloom Alchermes 1⁄4 ounce Pierre Ferrand Dry Curaçao 1⁄2 ounce lemon juice 4 ounces hot water Orange slices and cloves to garnish Additional hot water to warm mugs 1. Place a mug in the sink or on a plate. Fill it halfway with hot water and gently place a small shaker in the mug, bottom side first.

A bit of water may spill out. 2. Combine the wine, rum, liqueurs and lemon juice in the shaker.

Let it sit for about a minute so the mixture heats up. 3. Stud half an orange wheel with cloves.

4. Remove the shaker from the mug carefully when the exterior of the mug is hot to the touch. Discard the hot water from the mug and pour the cocktail from the shaker into the mug to combine.

5. Top with 4 ounces of hot water and garnish with the prepared half-wheel of orange. Anna Lee Iijima is a freelance writer.

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