It's the middle of December, and I should be in the woods. More precisely, I should be in the woods freezing my toes off, quite possibly in the dark, most likely in the rain. And I'm feeling nostalgic.

My family lived in Denmark before we moved to California. Each year, on the first Advent weekend leading to Christmas, we packed up our car with kids, dog and provisions and drove to my sister and brother-in-law's farm, a thatch-roofed cottage nestled in a pine and beech forest in the center of Zealand, the largest island of Denmark. The capital, Copenhagen, was a mere 60 kilometers away, but once we turned off the highway and snaked our way over the pastoral hills deep into the wooded countryside, it felt like light-years from the bustle of the city.

The winter sun is finicky in Denmark. If it shows its face at all, it's austere and reserved, never shining too high or too bright, shimmering like an icy Nordic beauty. More often than not, it rains. Mindful of the elusive daylight, upon our arrival at the farm we would immediately get to the task at hand. Three generations of family would scatter into the forest to forage holly, twigs, pinecones and moss. We had to work fast. The silvery sun, if visible, would begin its cool descent at 3 p.m., and the cold would eagerly creep in, numbing fingers, toes and tips of noses, despite the paddings of wool and fleece.

As darkness descended, we would return to the farmhouse with our bounty, cold, hungry and wet. Fires would be stoked in the ovens, glogg (mulled wine) would be heated on the stove, and we would claim a space, shoulder to shoulder, at the long kitchen table. Our harvest would be piled in the center, and adults and children would get to work making wreaths, tree ornaments and centerpieces.

While we did this, we would take turns making batches of aebleskivers, which we dipped in raspberry preserves and powdered sugar and washed down with mugs of steaming glogg. It may have been cold and wintry outside, but inside, everything was warm and toasty.

Now we live in California, and we continue our family traditions from Europe at Christmastime. We still make many of our holiday decorations, and of course, glogg and aebleskivers. In fact, I just finished a batch this afternoon, and as we sat in front of the fire with a glass of glogg, it began to rain outside. We didn't mind a bit. It was just like Denmark.

Danish Aebleskivers

Danish aebleskivers resemble doughnut holes and are served as a treat throughout the month of December. While they are sold frozen in the shops, nothing beats the vanilla and cardamom scent and tender texture of homemade aebleskivers. To make them, you will need a special aebleskiver pan, which is a skillet with 6 to 8 round indentations. Cast iron is best.

Active Time: 40 minutes

Total Time: 40 minutes, plus 1 hour standing time

Yield: Makes about 20

1 1/2 cups whole milk

1 envelope dry yeast or .6-ounce fresh yeast (1 cake)

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon granulated sugar

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom

1/2 vanilla bean

2 large eggs, separated

Unsalted European-style butter

Strawberry or raspberry preserves

Powdered sugar

Heat milk in a small saucepan until lukewarm. Pour the milk into a bowl and add the yeast. Let stand until the yeast dissolves.

Combine the flour, sugar, salt and cardamom in a medium bowl. Split the vanilla bean lengthwise and scrape the seeds into the dry ingredients.

Whisk the egg yolks into the milk and then add the milk to the flour and mix to combine.

Beat the egg whites in the bowl of an electric mixer until stiff. Fold the egg whites into the batter. Let stand one hour at room temperature.

Melt 1/2 teaspoon butter in each indentation of an aebleskiver pan over medium heat. Pour the batter into each indentation, about 2/3 full. Cook until golden brown underneath, 3 to 4 minutes. Using a wooden skewer, turn the aebleskivers over and continue to cook until golden and cooked through, 3 to 4 minutes more. Transfer the aebleskivers to a plate lined with a paper towel and repeat with the remaining batter. Serve the aebleskivers with powdered sugar and preserves.

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You say holidays, and I say gravlax. In our Danish-American home, the winter holiday season is not complete without making home-cured salmon gravlax. It’s simple to make and an easy, elegant appetizer or addition to a brunch table. All you need are two important things to make gravlax: fresh sashimi-grade salmon and time. The salmon is rubbed with a dry cure and stowed in the refrigerator to brine for two to three days. When ready, all you need to do is unwrap and remove the cure, then slice the salmon and drape it over bread. The flavor, presentation and simplicity are the essence of Nordic cuisine: elegant, minimal and clean.

In Danish tradition, gravlax is an important ingredient in the parade of courses during the celebratory dinners (ironically called Julefrokost, or Christmas lunch) leading up to Christmas. Gravlax (gravlaks in Danish and Norwegian or gravad laks in Swedish) literally means salmon in a grave or hole. During the Middle Ages, fisherman would salt salmon and let it ferment by burying it in a hole above the high-tide line.

Nowadays, it's not necessary to bury salmon in sand, but rather in salt and sugar and banish it to the refrigerator. It will cure for several days, during which the salt and sugar will turn into liquid and create a brine. Salt and sugar are necessary ingredients for curing, while fresh or dried herbs, peppercorns, citrus or spirits are often added for additional flavor. This recipe includes dill, fennel, peppercorns and akvavit, a Danish snaps.

To serve gravlax, thinly slice and arrange on bread. While pumpernickel is sometimes suggested for serving, Nordic tradition expressly uses white bread, not dark rye bread, with salmon. Accompany the salmon with a squeeze of lemon, fresh dill sprigs and a dollop of homemade honey-mustard sauce.

Salmon Gravlax

Active Time: 30 minutes

Total Time: 2 to 3 days for curing

Yield: Serves 8 to 10

1 side sushi-grade wild-caught salmon with skin, 2 to 2 1/2 pounds, pin bones removed

1 tablespoon white peppercorns

1 tablespoon black peppercorns

1 teaspoon fennel seeds

1 cup kosher salt

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup light brown sugar

1 large bunch fresh dill sprigs

1 cup fennel fronds, chopped

3 to 4 tablespoons akvavit or vodka

Honey Dill Mustard

1/3 cup Dijon mustard

2 tablespoons cider vinegar

2 tablespoons honey

1/4 cup grapeseed oil

2 tablespoons chopped dill sprigs

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Rinse the salmon under cold water and pat dry. Refrigerate, uncovered, while preparing the spice rub.

Lightly toast the peppercorns and fennel seeds in a dry skillet over medium-high heat until aromatic, about 1 minute. Transfer to a mortar and finely grind. Transfer to a bowl and mix in the salt and sugars. Rub the fish all over with the spice mix.

Line a long baking pan or dish with plastic wrap. Place half of the dill sprigs and half of the fennel fronds over the plastic wrap. Arrange the salmon skin-side down on the herbs. Sprinkle the akvavit over the salmon. Top with the remaining dill and fennel. Cover with additional plastic wrap, sealing the fish. Place a heavy pan or tray on the fish and weigh down the pan with cans or bottles. Refrigerate for 2 to 3 days.

Before serving, whisk the mustard, vinegar and honey in a small bowl. Slowly whisk in the oil to emulsify and then stir in the dill and black pepper.

Remove the fish from refrigerator. Remove and discard the plastic wrap. Pour off the collected juices and wipe off the excess brine and dill with paper towels. Slice the fish diagonally from one corner of the salmon toward the center of the fillet.

Fold a slice of gravlax on toasted brioche bread or white bread. Squeeze a few drops of fresh lemon juice and smear a spoonful of Honey Dill Mustard on the fish. Garnish with a dill sprig. Gravlax may be stored in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

CAPTIONS AND CREDITS

Thanksgiving has passed, but that’s no reason to stop eating cranberries. These pert and tart berries are a welcome addition and decorative garnish throughout the year, and especially brighten up a winter table during the frosty holiday season. Their bright ruby color practically screams celebration, livening up salads and sauces, desserts and cocktails, and their pucker-y tartness easily complements sweet and savory dishes.

Need inspiration?

While a good ol’ cranberry sauce is the go-to accompaniment to turkey, you can also add cranberries to chutneys, salsas and relishes. Blitz or cook them down with savory ingredients, such as peppers, onions, ginger and dried fruit to accompany red meat, game and pork.

Blitz cranberries into marinades. Their astringent tartness will work wonders as a flavorful meat tenderizer.

Add tart cranberries to fruity desserts, such as pies, crisps and cobblers. They pair well with apples, pears, quince and dried fruit. Their tartness will make the dessert pop, and nicely balance the sugar and sweetness of the fruit.

Did anyone say chocolate? Cranberries love chocolate (who or what doesn’t?). Fold them into dark chocolate cakes, bark and bars, or simply dip and coat them in chocolate for a dangerously easy nibble to eat.

Add them to cocktails and mock-tails. Use them to flavor simple syrup, infuse vodka, muddle into mixed drinks, or simply float a few berries as a colorful garnish.

And while we’re on the subject of drinks, this is a bright and festive cocktail that will carry you through the holiday season. The berry’s cheek-sucking tartness provides contrast to the warmth and spice of honeyed bourbon, acting as a natural bitter, if you will. The berries are incorporated in three ways: in a cinnamon-infused syrup, muddled with citrus and mint, and then added in frozen form for colorful bling.

Cranberry-Bourbon Citrus Smash

Makes one cocktail

Cranberry-Orange Simple Syrup:

2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries

1 cup water

1 cup sugar

1 (2-inch) cinnamon stick

2 strips orange peel

Cocktail:

3 to 4 fresh or frozen cranberries

3 to 4 mint leaves

1 lime quarter

1 orange slice

1 1/2 ounces bourbon

1/2 ounce Cointreau

1 ounce Cranberry-Orange Simple Syrup

1 ounce fresh lime juice

Ice cubes

Make the simple syrup:

Combine the syrup ingredients in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer until the cranberries break down, about 15 minutes. Strain the syrup through a fine-mesh sieve, pushing down on the cranberry pulp. Discard the solids. Cool the syrup to room temperature. (The simple syrup may be stored in a glass container in the refrigerator for up to one month.)

Make the cocktail:

Combine the cranberries, mint, lime and orange slice in a cocktail shaker and muddle. Add the bourbon and Cointreau, and then add the remaining ingredients. Shake vigorously and pour into a tall glass or strain into a rocks glass. Serve with whole fresh or frozen cranberries, lime wedges and mint sprigs.

CAPTIONS AND CREDITS