Well, we are in the midst of a major move. My daughter, who has multiple health issues, is battling a flare-up of her atypical, infected eczema. My husband had to move ahead of us to start the new job. I am packing. There were no Christmas decorations this year. We are surrounded by packing boxes and medications and medical records.
So, you ask, what is my favorite holiday drink? The answer would have to be: anything that someone would serve to me, that I could take the time to sit and sip for just a few moments.
But during a regular holiday season, I would have to say Gluhwein, the German and Austrian spiced warm wine. My husband was stationed in northern Italy for a couple of years, and we lived just outside Venice. At Christmas, we had the opportunity to travel to Innsbruck, to the famous Christmas market in the city square. Our children were young, and they got to roll cookies out in little cookie-baking stations, guided by chefs. They were given little aprons and chef hats. As the parents, we were invited to watch, and a friendly young woman came around with trays. On the trays were gorgeous ceramic mugs of warmed wine, combined with brandy, citrus, cardamom, cinnamon, allspice, and nutmeg - a gift from the city of Innsbruck. I have never tasted anything so perfect, in such a perfect setting.
On a side note, my daughter, who was just in kindergarten, had learned some basic Italian words and phrases. My husband was assigned to a NATO base, so we were not living on an American base, but living in a small village instead, where we were treated with welcoming graciousness. When, in Innsbruck, my daughter was led by the hand by the chef to where she would roll and decorate the cookies, she motioned to us. "Mommy and Daddy", she said, "can you tell him that I don't know a lot of Italy talk (her word for the Italian language)?" We quickly replied that the chef didn't speak Italian either, that we were now in Austria, and he spoke a different language. Her eyes grew wide. With a completely shocked look, she shrieked "What???!!! You mean there's more?!!!??" But cookies and rolling pins and sugar and butter and the kind hands of a trained chef, it turned out, are an international language. No translator required. Gluhwein also spoke a universal language: of warmth, welcome, and joy.