Three glass mugs of mulled wine on a wooden table with pine needles and anise.

The lore, songs, and poetry of the holiday seasons in many parts of the world are full of metaphors and allegories of warmth, happiness, brightness, family, community, and home. Manifest those feelings into a beverage for the bright lights of holiday celebrations and the cold weather in which they are often held, and you get mulled spiced wine.

With the Danish embassy putting out a video inviting people to enjoy mulled wine on their social media to kick off the holiday season, many folks instantly recognize the value and recall memories of warm liquid reinforcements for holiday battles old and new.

Mulled wine in the Nordic countries is known as gløgg for the Danes and Norwegians, or glögi for Finnish drinkers. In both functionality and traditional usage, these variants are similar to glühwein of Germany, Austria, and the Alpine regions. Thought to have originated with the Romans, who were trying to stay warm in the cold and alive against the Germanic peoples they were fighting, glühwein is now as much a staple of the holidays as decorations and mythology.

Whether one is in the human crush of four million Christkindlesmarkt patrons below the Gothic marvel that is Cologne Cathedral in Germany, or at a quiet family gathering in the Alps, the small decorative cups of warmed spiced wine bring warmth to cold festivities. Tourists get a commemorative mug. Locals usually have “their” mug, often handed down or specially acquired and used each occasion as part of the ritual. Glühwein’s English translation is a standard, unsubtle German compound that means “glow wine,” both for the inner warmth and the outward effects of repeated consumption.

But such a feeling from such a drink is known in just about every culture around the globe.

In Brazil, quentão or vinho quente (“big heat,” appropriately enough) is a June drink that coincides with religious festivals. But the essentials of simmered wine, spices, sweeteners, and spirits are shared with the European variants. Chileans call their version navegado, while in Mexico one may seek out ponche navideño, which leans closer to a spiked punch but returns to the holiday tradition of Old World mulled wines.

Russians enjoy essentially the same drink as their Alpine European neighbors, mulling red wine with whatever citrus is available, plus clove, cinnamon, sugar, and cognac or brandy if possible—and the old failsafe of vodka if not.

In East Asia, safflower wine that is functionally close to its holiday cousins in the West is used for medicinal purposes. Plum wine is not unusual, nor are goji berries, Szechuan peppercorns, Chinese five spice, and countless local recipes with their own unique takes.

Take sweet red mulled wine, bring it down with pomegranate, clove, cardamom, and citrus, and you have a drink Persians have been enjoying for as long as we have written language to record the recipe.

Japan has garak, which blends ginger and cinnamon into warmed sake in cold winter months.

Then there is England. Generations of English speakers on both sides of the Atlantic have sung about going wassailing, probably unaware that the English version of mulled wine and caroling traditions were once intertwined. And lest anyone doubt the holiday credentials of the English versions of mulled wine, Dickens placing the Victorian-era “Smoking Bishop” punch into the spoken dialogue of Scrooge himself to Bob Cratchit should settle the matter.

The American South’s hot toddy does not quite qualify but clearly draws some inspiration in heating water, whiskey, and lemon while eschewing sweetness and a wine base.

Worldwide cultural variations all follow the same basic gastronomic approach: slowly bring to temperature—without boiling—the red wine of your choice; let it steep with spices, citrus, sweeteners, or other flavorings you desire; strengthen it with a spirit of some kind; and serve hot. Anyone who can boil water can make mulled spiced wine, and millions upon millions worldwide do just that. Those who cannot still partake, provided they have neighbors or a festival offering grab-and-go gløgg, glühwein, or whatever local variation is available.

Mulled wine fortified with spirits and elevated with flavors is the physical embodiment of a universal human need: to feel warm and strengthened against the cold weather and the challenging end of the calendar year. Whether for a holiday, a cold day, or any other time anywhere in the world, it is easy to see how mulled wine brings the feeling of home and holidays, one sip at a time—something every culture can perfectly understand.


To make the traditional Danish gløgg, you’ll need:

  • 2 oranges, organic
  • 2 dl / 0,8 cups water 
  • 3 cinnamon sticks
  • 10 whole cloves
  • 5 cardamom pods
  • 6 tbsp dark brown sugar
  • 1 bottle red wine
  • 1-2 slices fresh ginger (optional)
  • Raisins, whole blanched almonds and orange slices for serving

Thinly peel the zest of half an orange with a vegetable peeler. Juice both oranges and add the zest and juice to a saucepan. Add water, spices and dark brown sugar to the saucepan. Bring to the boil and simmer over medium heat for 30 minutes. Remove the orange zest and whole spices from the saucepan and continue to serving instructions – or, for more intense flavor, turn off the heat and let the mixture soak overnight before removing the zest and spices. Add the red wine and heat the gløgg until hot but not boiling. Add additional spice or alcohol as desired. Serve hot in glasses or mugs with raisins, whole blanched almonds and orange slices.

The views presented in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily represent those of Diplomatica Global Media.

Andrew Donaldson has been a military and political advisor to Diplomatica Global Media since its launch in 2018. When he's not contributing here, he can be found on Substack at Heard/Tell, and various...