Greek Mythology, Mead, and Metheglin | Liquor Literacy

To quote the great Charlie Brown, it seems Thanksgiving Day is upon us! With the holiday season’s arrival, it’s only appropriate to keep with the festivities of the day and celebrate with a drink to accompany our feasts. 

The Drink

In keeping with this time of year—on an autumn holiday that marks the beginning of the Christmas season for so many of us—I wanted to find a drink that spoke to both of those festive times, prompting a return to mead. More specifically, to metheglin—a spiced variant of mead that is warm and spicy and made for this time of year.

Greek Mythology, Mead, and Metheglin

As one of the, if not the, oldest alcoholic beverages in the world, mead has a rich and fascinating history across the globe. From Africa to the Northern European lands of the Vikings, mead seems to have touched every corner of the world, shifting from a drink of commoners to one of the elite and back again. It was the drink of the people, the drink of kings, and even, for the Greeks, the drink of the gods. 

Considered messengers of the gods, bees feature rather heavily throughout Greek mythology. A tale detailing the birth of Zeus tells of how bees cared for an infant Zeus and fed him sacred honey within a secret cave after his father, Kronos, wished to destroy him. Zeus, upon becoming the king of gods, rewarded bees by making them bright gold and resistant to strong winds and the cold. It’s believed that this myth is behind one of Zeus’s names, “Melissaios” which translates to “bee-man.” Bees were also called the birds of the Muses and, as the poet Hesiod wrote, “whomsoever they honoured and looked upon at his birth, on his tongue they shed a honeyed dew and from his lips would drop gentle words and he would speak counsel unerringly.” Since cracks within rock walls and caves were believed to be entrances to the Underworld, and also housed bees nests, bees were associated with souls of the dead and the Underworld itself. Some believed bees were souls of the departed or souls that had yet to be born. 

Rather unsurprisingly, the Greek god Dionysus has his own connections to mead. He was the god of fertility, orchards, fruit, ritual madness, insanity, religious ecstasy, festivity, theater, grape harvest, and—most famously—wine. As well known as he is for being the god of wine, Dionysus’s worship predates wine’s popularity to the time of mead. Raised in a cave and fed honey by bees as Zeus was, honey was sacred to Dionysus. He is credited as the creator of beekeeping and his thyrsus—his wand or staff—was wrapped with ivy and dripped honey. It’s even said that his followers had wands from which honey flowed.

With all of these heavenly connections, bees were sacred to Ancient Greeks. Honey and mead were considered the food and drink of their gods, come directly from the heavens to earth in the form of dew that was collected by bees to be made into honey here on earth. It was believed that mead would prolong life and bring health, wit, strength, and poetry to the drinker. 

Dionysus, god of wine and mead, is known for the rituals associated with his worship. As the god of freedom and ecstasy, perhaps you’re more familiar with the name taken up by Romans: Bacchus. These frenzied rituals—bacchanals—were said to free his followers of self-consciousness and fear through dance and intoxication. It was believed that Dionysus himself would possess and empower his followers during these rituals, earning him the nickname Eleutherios—the Liberator.

There were far more tame rituals that included mead and honey within Ancient Greece. Both were common offerings to the gods, nymphs, and even the spirits of the dead, with the rituals sometimes being as simple as pouring honey mixed with water on the floor as atonement for sins. These rituals and ceremonies kept mead alive with Greek culture well past its time as the most prominent drink of the age. 

While I’m drawn to Greek mythology in particular, mead has its place in the mythology and histories of many cultures around the world, including those of medieval England. Though the differences between ancient Greek beliefs and the beliefs of ancient Celts, Brits, and pagans are numerous, there are some small instances of overlap–bees and mead included. While bees weren’t sacred to pagans as they were to Greeks, the Druids believed that bees represented the Goddess, community, and celebration and included mead in their rituals, celebrations, and festivals. It is this spirit that ties the merry making of both ancient Greece and England together and brings to mind the comforts of home, family, and community.

Metheglin, specifically, was an especially popular variant of mead in Wales, the name metheglin itself coming from the Welsh word “meddyglyn,” meaning physician. More specifically, “meddyglyn” is a compound of the Welsh words “medd” (mead),  “llyn” (liquor), and “meddyg” (healing), translating to “healing liquor.” While the word “metheglin” ended up being used interchangeably with regular mead as Welsh culture filtered into England, it was its own unique drink, traditionally spiced with ginger, cloves, cinnamon, and lemon—perfect for medicinal purposes as well as warming up on a deep autumn night.

The Recipe

 

Since making true metheglin would require offensive amounts of honey and over a year of fermenting, we’re cheating a bit today by making a simple mulled mead—with the spirit of metheglin in mind, of course. 

This recipe originally appeared on The Men of Mead. 

2 cardamom pods

1/2 tsp allspice

1 cinnamon stick

1/2 tsp whole cloves

1 whole nutmeg, smashed 

Half a thumb-sized piece of ginger root

1 slice of lemon rind

1 slice of orange rind

1 bottle of traditional mead

Note: I could not find cardamom pods, so I simply left them out.

Another Note: Half a thumb-sized piece of ginger root is a section about 1 inch long. 

Directions

This is a rather simple recipe and premise, much like mulled wine. 

First, smash the whole nutmeg with a meat mallet (or anything you can crush it with). 

Next, simply add all the spices and citrus rinds to a cheesecloth pouch before tying it up and dropping it in the mead. 

Let it simmer—do not let it boil—until warm. Serve and enjoy!

 

Pairs Well With

 

The Secret History 

by Donna Tartt

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Under the influence of their charismatic classics professor, a group of clever, eccentric misfits at an elite New England college discover a way of thinking and living that is a world away from the humdrum existence of their contemporaries. But when they go beyond the boundaries of normal morality they slip gradually from obsession to corruption and betrayal, and at last – inexorably – into evil.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mead brings to mind the rich allure of mythology, and metheglin specifically brings to mind the chill of the dark half of the year and the rich atmosphere that can be built upon it. With these in mind, there is only one book that could pair perfectly: The Secret History by Donna Tartt. Quiet and drenched with atmosphere and intrigue, The Secret History focuses on the isolated lives of Classics students as they immerse themselves in Greek literature and culture and explore the darkest of their Greek inclinations. It’s perfect reading for this time of year– with a steaming mug of mulled mead in hand, of course. 

Final Thoughts

In the interest of complete and total honesty, I will admit that I did not like this drink. My family did not like this drink. I certainly understand why metheglin or spiced mead could be used for medicinal purposes, but the simple enjoyment of it is a mystery to me. It was strong—so strong it roused several proclamations of, “That will put hair on your chest,” from my taste testers. If you’re looking for something with some punch, this may be for you. However, I could see more casual drinkers finding this a bit much. Perhaps most disappointing to me was that it was overwhelmingly one-noted. I didn’t get the brightness I’d expected from the lemon and orange rinds and the ginger root, or the spiciness from the cinnamon stick, nutmeg, or cloves. It was simply a strong drink, tasting mostly of the burn of alcohol. Disappointing, but a fun venture overall. 

While I can’t recommend trying this drink for yourself based on taste alone, I will point you toward a more pleasant drink that has been made many times since first appearing in Liquor Literacy—Samhain Cider. If you’re looking for a delightfully warm, cozy drink for your winter nights, Samhain Cider is the clear favorite from my Liquor Literacy forays. 

I hope you have a wonderful day and wish health and happiness for you and all your families. It’s been a difficult year, but it’s only helped put into focus the things that are most important and that I’m most thankful for. I hope you have plenty to be thankful for. Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

Thanks for reading, 

Madison