Drinking Traditions of Greenland: 6 Local Beverages Shaped by Ice

Greenland’s drinking culture reflects Arctic realities: extreme seasons, sparse agriculture, and Inuit traditions of fermenting foods rather than brewing alcohol. Alcohol arrived with Danish traders and missionaries in the 18th century and fused with local tastes and resources—from wild berries to pristine ice.

Today, you’ll find modest but distinctive choices in towns like Nuuk, Ilulissat, and Sisimiut: beers brewed with iceberg water, Scandinavian snaps, berry ferments made at home, and a show-stopping flaming coffee. Modern bars and hotel lounges adapt global techniques to Greenlandic ingredients and climate.

Greenlandic coffee is a layered, flambéed cocktail that doubles as dessert. It typically combines hot black coffee, a coffee liqueur (often Kahlúa), whisky, an orange liqueur such as Grand Marnier or Cointreau, and lightly whipped cream. Bartenders ignite the whisky, pouring the blue flame over the glass in a small ritual. Depending on the pour, the drink lands around 10–15% ABV in the cup—rich, warming, and aromatic with cocoa, caramel, and citrus oils.

The recipe likely emerged in the late 20th century within Greenland’s restaurant scene, echoing Irish coffee yet tailored to Arctic hospitality. The layering (dark coffee, white cream, a fiery pour) is sometimes described as nodding to polar light and ice. You’ll encounter it in hotel lounges in Ilulissat overlooking the Icefjord, in Nuuk’s better bars after dinner, and at celebratory meals on cold nights. Expect a silky texture, a bittersweet coffee core, and a lingering orange-peel perfume.

Beer is the everyday alcoholic drink in Greenland, and the local story often centers on water. Small breweries and bottlers have released lagers and ales brewed with melted iceberg water collected from Greenland’s west coast, particularly near the UNESCO-listed Ilulissat Icefjord. Styles range from clean, pale lagers to amber ales and darker, malt-forward winter brews, generally 4.5–7% ABV. The taste is crisp, mineral, and softly rounded—reflecting the low-mineral profile of ancient ice.

While many beers are imported from Denmark, you’ll find Greenlandic labels in Nuuk pubs and restaurants, at hotel bars in Sisimiut, and seasonally in Ilulissat when tourism peaks. In the 2000s, pioneering producers showed that iceberg water could anchor a distinct regional identity. Today the appeal is part-terroir, part-theatre: crews harvest clear blue ice, it’s melted and brewed, and drinkers raise a glass to the ice sheet itself. These beers pair naturally with shrimp, cold-smoked fish, and musk ox burgers.

Akvavit (snaps) came to Greenland through Danish and Norwegian influence and remains ubiquitous at festive meals. It’s a distilled spirit, typically 37.5–45% ABV, flavored primarily with caraway or dill seed; some labels add coriander, fennel, or citrus peel. Served well chilled in small glasses, it smells of herbal spice and rye bread and tastes clean, slightly oily, and warming. The serving style is formal but friendly: a toast—skål—then a measured sip, often alongside seafood.

You’ll encounter akvavit at family dinners, restaurant tasting menus, and holidays including Christmas and National Day on June 21. In Nuuk and Qaqortoq, seafood platters of Greenland halibut, prawns, and lumpfish roe are classic partners, with the spice cutting through brine and fat. Home cooks also use akvavit to cure gravlax-style fish or to fortify berry infusions. Although imported, the ritual has been localized: Greenlanders adopt Scandinavian schnapps customs while pairing them with Arctic ingredients.

Greenland’s brief summer enables a quiet tradition of home fermentation with wild berries—especially crowberries (Empetrum nigrum) and blueberries. Homemade “wines” are typically created by steeping cleaned berries with sugar and baker’s or wine yeast in a sanitized jar or carboy for several weeks, then racking and maturing until clear. The result, commonly 8–12% ABV, is a deep purple-red wine with aromas of resinous black fruit, spruce, and slate; acidity is moderate, tannins light.

Alternatively, many households prepare berry liqueurs by macerating fruit in neutral spirit or akvavit with sugar (20–30% ABV when finished). These bottles are set aside for winter—brought out in Nuuk apartments during storms, at small gatherings in Narsaq where South Greenland’s milder climate nurtures more berries, or as gifts when visiting family. Historically, Inuit fermentation emphasized preserving meats and fish; berry alcohol is a post-contact practice, but one that expresses Greenland’s landscape in the glass.

Gin has found an Arctic accent in Greenland. Commercial gins marketed in the country often highlight melted iceberg water and botanicals that thrive in subarctic conditions, such as juniper, angelica root, Labrador tea (Rhododendron groenlandicum), and sometimes crowberry or Arctic thyme. Most clock in at 40–44% ABV, with piney juniper framed by cool, herbal, tea-like aromas and a dry finish. The iceberg water story emphasizes purity and a soft mouthfeel.

You’ll taste these gins in simple highballs in Nuuk cocktail bars, in Ilulissat hotel lounges after boat tours, or paired with tonic garnished by a sprig of local herb in Sisimiut. Some products are distilled outside Greenland but use Greenlandic water or botanicals; others are small-batch experiments closer to home. Either way, the profile suits the climate: clean, bracing, and aromatic. Try with smoked cod, pickled shrimp, or herbaceous cheeses to coax out the tonic-tinged citrus and woodland notes.

As days shorten and sea ice forms, Greenlandic drinkers turn to darker lagers and seasonal beers inspired by Scandinavian winter styles. These are malt-forward, lightly spiced or caramel-toned brews typically around 5–6% ABV, designed to be both food-friendly and warming. Aromas suggest toasted bread, gentle molasses, and faint cocoa; bitterness is restrained. Some seasonal releases arrive from Denmark, while local taps in Nuuk and Sisimiut rotate richer styles during Advent and New Year.

You’ll find them poured alongside hearty dishes—roasted reindeer or musk ox, braised lamb from South Greenland farms, and rye-heavy smørrebrød. In Ilulissat, a pint after a winter fjord cruise feels especially apt, with notes of caramel echoing the browning of buttered fish. Although not ancient traditions, these beers have become part of the winter calendar, echoing Scandinavian customs while reflecting Greenland’s polar darkness and its communal appetite for warmth and light.