It’s fire and ice in one shot

No one says you need an occasion to enjoy aquavit. Straight from the freezer, poured into a cordial glass, its touch is cold, yet the flavors bloom warm on the palate. Aquavit’s exotic aromatics, from meadow-scented fennel and dill to herbaceous caraway, elevate the spirit from firewater to something to be savored -- something that, among the initiated, might raise the question, “Where’s the gravlax?”

In Scandinavia, where the spirit originates, no one would think of celebrating Midsummer Day without a plentiful supply on hand -- aquavit is considered vital to the celebration.

In fact, toasting with aquavit at Midsummer is almost religious in its deliberation and can seem at first to have all the levity of a Bergman film. When the time comes, all at the table fill their shot glasses. All stand. The host slowly raises his glass, elbow out, as he makes eye contact with each person present. He skips no one.

As his guest, you’re expected to meet his gaze with the requisite gravity. Now you’re nearly ready to hoist one -- but not quite -- it’s time for a song. (For a region known for its self-possession, Scandinavia has an astonishing number of drinking songs.) The host chooses from his repertoire of several thousand and you commence singing -- loudly, and long; not until you’ve sung your third or fourth stanza is it time, at last, to wet your vissla.

Of course, the degree of solemnity is in inverse proportion to the number of times this ritual is repeated, but aside from getting happy, its purpose is clear. On the longest day of the year, you’re obliged to welcome the lingering guest who has been a cold-hearted stranger all winter long: the sun.

Nothing about aquavit is cold-hearted, though it is best served ice-cold, thickened to a velvety texture. Where vodka is often refined to the point of tasting like nothing at all, aquavit is dressed up in herbal finery. Where vodka blends in, aquavit stands out.

A spirited history

The term aquavit, like eau de vie and usquebaugh (the Gaelic word from which “whiskey” is derived), is from the Latin aqua vitae, “water of life,” and can vary slightly in spelling (akvavit, aqvavit) depending on its country of origin. It is nearly always a potato distillate, but is occasionally made from grain. It is never neutral, however. In fact, Hakan Swahn, the Swedish owner of Aquavit, the Manhattan restaurant, believes that aquavit is the original flavored vodka, with a tradition going back more than 500 years. As to why, he has a theory: “Back when the monks were learning the distillation process,” he says, “they probably needed stronger flavors to cover up their mistakes.”

Perhaps, but the traditional spices used -- caraway, cumin, dill, anise or some combination -- are stalwart enough to hint at the spirit’s original purpose as medicine. (You could say that some of the more old-fashioned recipes still give this impression.) There are hundreds of aquavits available in Scandinavia; nearly every village had its own style and recipe for centuries, and many of these made it into commercial production. Some aquavits, such as Aalborg, made in Denmark, are clear in color; others, like Norway’s Linie, are aged in old sherry casks, which impart an amber color. (Linie, it is said, crosses the equator twice, hence the name; in 1850, the story goes, a schooner loaded with aquavit arrived in Australia to find that its purchaser had died while the ship was on the water; when it returned to Norway, the aquavit had a much smoother taste.)

Tradition tweaked

In the U.S., there are only a handful of aquavits available in the market, and most are drawn from the traditional, stalwart spice box, with caraway as the dominant spice. These rather demonstrative flavors, according to Marcus Samuelsson, chef at Aquavit, pair well with more brawny game dishes like venison, and serve as a palate cleanser for more pungent smorgasbord staples such as gravlax and lutefisk. Aquavit is also a traditional accompaniment to the open-faced sandwiches of Denmark and freshwater crayfish in Finland, as well as shrimp and lobster.

But aquavit, like many other traditional spirits, is being infused -- literally -- with new life. “Just like our traditional cuisines are being influenced by other flavors,” says Samuelsson, “aquavit started to draw from the rest of the world.” Now it’s not uncommon in Scandinavia to have aquavits made with lingonberries, lemon or cucumber. Few of these are available domestically, but you can find nearly 20 traditional and newer-style aquavits from Sweden, Norway and Denmark online at www.northerner.com.

Or, you can easily create your own modern aquavit at home. Start with a sturdy potato vodka ( such as Polish Luksusowa), and add, well, anything.

“We make different ones for each season,” says Samuelsson, who uses traditional fennel and caraway flavorings for autumn, citrus for winter (blood oranges are especially nice, he says) and horseradish in spring. For summer, Samuelsson loves strawberries.

In his cookbook “Aquavit and the New Scandinavian Cuisine,” he includes recipes for lime-ginger aquavit, lemon-pepper-dill aquavit and a berry aquavit that uses raspberries, blueberries, lingonberries or black currants. The berry aquavit is simplicity itself: Just add a cup of berries and two tablespoons simple syrup to a liter of vodka in a large lidded jar, let it stand at room temperature for six to eight weeks, and then strain it back into a clean bottle. Toss a couple of fresh berries into the aquavit for garnish, seal the bottle and store in the freezer.

The best infusions take about six weeks, according to Samuelsson, but cheating is OK.

“In one week you will start to have the flavors,” says Samuelsson; you can enhance the infusion by muddling the flavor elements, mojito-style, into the drink itself. This is something he’s doing now at Aquavit with strawberries and mint, a combination that sounds like a great way to toast a summer’s evening.

You can also liven commercial aquavits by adding a twist of lemon or orange -- or both -- to aquavit and rocks, with a splash of soda. The bright citrus will provide a nice top note to the more earth-bound herbal flavors -- which, by the way, ground a Bloody Mary beautifully when aquavit takes the place of vodka. Aquavit can also find a home where gin usually resides, particularly in more savory concoctions like Gibsons or dirty martinis.

But whatever you do, and whatever the occasion, make sure that one of your toasts is cast in the direction of the sun, no matter where it is, and if it’s still high in the sky near midnight, so much the better. Skal!

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Scandinavia’s spirit in L.A.

There are hundreds of aquavits available in Scandinavia; nearly every village had its own style and recipe for centuries, and many of these made it into commercial production. To go directly to the source, check out www.northerner.com, an outlet for all things Scandinavian, based in Sweden, where nearly 20 are on offer. There, you can also purchase handy sample packs of small bottles. These are the four aquavits readily available in the L.A. area.

Aalborg Akvavit. From Aalborg, Denmark, this most basic aquavit has the fresh aroma and intense flavor of caraway, which would serve a Bloody Mary well. Available at Bristol Farms and Wine Exchange in Orange, (714) 974-1454 (about $22).

Aalborg Jubilaeums Akvavit. Flavored with dill and coriander, this is smoother than Aalborg’s standard version. Pale amber in color, it’s anise-scented, with mild spice hints of coriander and a syrup-like texture. Available at the Wine House in L.A., (310) 479-3731 (about $21).

Linie Aquavit. Made in Lysholm, Norway, this is aged in sherry casks, giving it a light caramel color. Flavored with caraway, coriander and anise, it has a powerful, bitters-like taste and a velvety texture. Available at Bristol Farms, and Greenblatt’s Deli & Fine Wine Shop in L.A., (323) 656-0606 (about $30).

O.P. Anderson. This cask-aged spirit from Reimersholme, Sweden, has a delicate golden straw color, the well-balanced flavors of caraway, coriander and fennel, and a mildly sweet finish. It has pronounced scents of anise, backed with a more sturdy caraway aroma. Available at Vendome in Studio City, (818) 766-5272 (about $22).

-- Patrick J. Comiskey