It’s been pretty cold recently. My utility bills are roughly three times what they normally are, so I decided to try to make some mulled wine to take the edge off. I’ve never made it before but it’s simple enough that you can’t really mess it up.
Jon built a cookfire, claimed a small cask of Mormont’s favorite robust red from stores, and poured it into a kettle. He hung the kettle above the flames while he gathered the rest of his ingredients. The Old Bear was particular about his hot spiced wine. So much cinnamon and so much nutmeg and so much honey, not a drop more. Raisins and nuts and dried berries, but no lemon, that was the rankest sort of southron heresy—which was queer, since he always took lemon in his morning beer. The drink must be hot to warm a man properly, the Lord Commander insisted, but the wine must never be allowed to come to a boil.
You can see my heretical citrus slices in the mulled wine, but after a few cups of this you won’t particularly care whether or not you added a bit of fruit. I’ve definitely been drinking a lot more during lockdown, often polishing off a bottle of wine in an entire night. This would have been unusual pre-quarantine.
—