Julegløgg – A Toast to Norwegian Christmas Warmth
There are certain scents that can carry an entire season. For Norwegians, few aromas are as instantly recognizable as the rising steam from a pot of julegløgg — that spiced, ruby-red warmth that signals the true arrival of Christmas.
A Tradition in a Cup
Julegløgg isn’t just a drink. It’s a ritual. It belongs to that sacred stretch of December afternoons when candles flicker in every window, when snow clings to boots by the door, and when someone says the most welcome words of the season: “Shall we make some gløgg?”
The word itself comes from the old Swedish glödga, meaning “to heat up.” In centuries past, this was quite literal — a wine or spirit heated gently over the fire with spices to make it more palatable (and warming) during the cold months. In Norway, gløgg took on its own life, merging continental influence with local taste.
From Monks to Modern Christmas
Mulled wine likely reached Scandinavia through monastic and trade connections in the Middle Ages. But the Norwegian version evolved with the land — often less about luxury and more about resourcefulness. Imported wine was rare, so local adaptations emerged: heated berry juices, home-brewed wine, or even mixtures using aquavit.
By the 1800s, gløgg had become a recognized Christmas staple in urban households, appearing in recipe books and Advent gatherings alike. It became especially popular among the growing middle class, where “små juleselskaper” (little Christmas parties) would feature gløgg alongside gingerbread and risengrynsgrøt.
The Fragrance of Familiar Things
A proper julegløgg fills a home with fragrance before the first sip. The essential ingredients are simple yet unmistakable:
Cinnamon sticks – the backbone of warmth
Cloves and cardamom – for the old-world spice
Star anise – a touch of foreign beauty
Orange peel – brightness against the winter dark
Raisins and almonds – the tradition floating in every cup
The drink itself can be alcoholic or not, depending on taste and company. Many families prepare two versions — one with red wine and perhaps a dash of port or aquavit for the adults, and another with blackcurrant or elderberry juice for the children.
A Family Tradition Rekindled
In my own family, julegløgg was a December ritual that belonged to the women of the house. My grandmother would start the pot early in the afternoon, letting it simmer as she wrapped gifts and hummed old hymns. She never used a written recipe — only memory and scent to guide her.
When evening came, we gathered in the glow of candlelight, mugs in hand, almonds clinking softly as the wind rattled the windows. Each sip was both comfort and connection — to her, to those who came before her, and to the generations that would follow.
Serving a Story
To serve julegløgg is to offer more than warmth. It is a reminder that celebration doesn’t need grandeur. It thrives in the small gestures — a shared pot, a plate of pepperkaker, a quiet song in the background.
So this Advent, when the days grow short and the nights long, let a pot of julegløgg simmer on your stove. Let it gather the room around it. Let it speak of heritage, of continuity, and of the simple joy that runs through every Norwegian home in December.
A Simple Julegløgg Recipe
Ingredients:
1 bottle red wine (or 1 L blackcurrant juice)
1 cinnamon stick
3–4 whole cloves
3 cardamom pods, lightly crushed
Peel from ½ an orange
3 tbsp sugar (adjust to taste)
A handful of raisins and blanched almonds
Instructions:
Combine everything except the raisins and almonds in a pot.
Warm gently — never boil — and let it steep for at least 30 minutes.
Strain, add the almonds and raisins, and serve steaming hot in thick glasses or mugs.
Final Thought
Every cup of julegløgg carries more than spice — it carries continuity. It’s the scent of family, the taste of heritage, and the warmth of a thousand Norwegian winters made bearable through community and care.
So skål — to warmth, memory, and the enduring glow of Christmas traditions.
