The first time I learned about Glögg was in college. Someone had introduced it to my college a cappella group and it quickly became part of our annual holiday tradition. It still lives on, umpteen million years later. I don't know if they're still lighting it on fire (inevitably scorching someone's eyebrows off) or drinking it out of a stolen trophy, but I'm sure they've come up with their own traditions by now.

I stole this recipe from NPR, who got it from the Norwegian embassy. They know their Glögg.

Glögg
Aquavit (or brandy or vodka)
Burgundy or pinot noir wine
Port wine
Raisins
White sugar
Cinnamon sticks
Cloves
Cardamom seeds
One orange
One piece of ginger
Blanched almonds

Step 1: Soak
1/2 cup of raisins in one cup of aquavit; Brandy or vodka can be used instead. Soak for 30 minutes
before Step 2.

Step 2: Put a
large pot on the stove, over high heat. Add one cup of water and 1/2
cup sugar to the pot, and stir with a wooden spoon until the sugar is
completely dissolved.

Step 3: Lower
the heat to medium and add your spices – two sticks of cinnamon (each
broken in half); four whole cloves; six whole cardamom seeds, crushed by
hand; a thinly shaved orange peel; and one small piece of ginger,
peeled and cut in half. Stir again with wooden spoon. Do not allow the
mix to come to a boil from this point on.

Step 4: Add the aquavit-raisin mixture, two cups of burgundy or pinot noir wine and two cups of port wine.

Step 5: Sweeten and spice to taste.

Step 6: Strain, garnish with raisins and slices of blanched almond — and serve hot off the stove.

Note: The drink can be made a day ahead and kept covered, on the stove, at room temperature. Just reheat before serving.

I already posted this New York Times article, "Guess Who Isn't Coming to Dinner?" on my Facebook page, but I have a great deal more to say about the topic of the allegedly endangered dinner party. First and foremost — it's not endangered. At least not in my apartment. Not my in current apartment or any other prior dwelling in which I've lived. I think in every dorm or apartment I've ever lived in that had a kitchen to cook in, I've hosted a dinner party of some sort.

I think part of the problem is that some people panic when they think about hosting a dinner party, thinking it needs to be a fancy, Martha Stewart-esque affair with multiple courses and intricate recipes. It doesn't. At all. Cook something simple — ideally something you've cooked before — and provide a comfortable atmosphere for your guests. If they offer to bring something, let them. Hell, tell them exactly what to bring: "Can you bring cheese and crackers? A dessert of some sort?" One less thing for you to prepare.

My favorite season for dinner parties is now — the fall and winter. Ideally, when I have some outdoor space and a grill to call my own, this will change, but fall and winter allow for simple, comforting dishes that are good for a group: lasagna (a big dinner party winner), stews, hearty pastas, roasts, or anything in the slow cooker. On a freezing cold Sunday, what better to do than stay home, play some music, maybe open a bottle of wine and fill your home with tantalizing aromas. In a few hours, you're joined by a group of guests of your choosing, talk away the hours, eat and laugh heartily, and generally end up with leftovers. If you're lucky, one or more of your guests will offer to do the dishes. Let them.

I probably have someone over for dinner at least twice a month, and I should do it more often. Sounds like a good New Year's resolution in the making. Who's hungry?

Yes, you read that correctly. See you there.