CLEVELAND, Ohio — Some Clevelanders call her winter's mistress, an irresistible temptress who warms them through the holidays.

Others call her a ninja whose stealth attacks repeatedly shock them, leaving them cold and alone -- and sometimes naked -- lying on a floor.

Men sing songs exalting her strength and pen poems pining for her return after she's gone.

But she's no lady.

This femme fatale is a beer.

Christmas Ale -- introduced by Great Lakes Brewing Co. 15 years ago -- is soaring beyond cult status and cementing its place as a Cleveland icon.

"It's not Christmas in Cleveland until I taste Christmas Ale," said Katie Janca, who grew up in the West Park neighborhood.

Bars fight to sell it. Groceries sometimes ration it. And Clevelanders gulp it down, knowing the ginger-spiced nectar will likely be gone long before Santa's sleigh touches down.

But this is about more than beer.

It's about friends and family. It's about Christmas. And it's about something good coming out of Cleveland, a place that can often feel like its best days are far behind.

Janca, who graduated from St. Joseph Academy in 2003, lives in New York City now. When she and her friends from St. Joe's, St. Ignatius, St. Edward and all over the West Side come home for the holidays, they are all thirsty for Christmas Ale.

"I don't know if people understand how important this is, but the deciding factor on where we go is whether they have Christmas Ale," she said. "We call ahead. If they don't have it, we go somewhere else."

Beer Q&A

Brothers Pat and Dan Conway opened Ohio's first microbrewery -- Great Lakes Brewing Co. -- in 1988. While the beers have fans, Christmas Ale has super fans who sip, chug and hoard the beer, often leaving not a drop available by Christmas. Pat answered questions about Cleveland's favorite holiday beverage:

Can you explain the process?

The success of the beer has a lot to do with the perfect balance. It's an expensive beer to produce. We'll spend over $200,000 just on honey.

Has the honey, ginger and cinnamon-infused recipe evolved?

We use the same ingredients.

Is it your best-selling beer?

Dortmunder accounts for 35 percent of sales. Christmas Ale is 20 percent, but is only on sale for 8 weeks.

What's the craziest story you heard about anyone trying to get their hands on the ale?

The week before a friend's 40th birthday, he called bars in his area to see who had Christmas Ale. A pub had a keg, but wouldn't tap it until other seasonal beers were gone. The friend bought up everything in those kegs, and the pub tapped the Ale.

Is there enough to see Cleveland through the holidays?

No. It's selling at a record pace even though we produced almost 30 percent more than last year.

Even though Christmas Ale is not that old, many already view it as a piece of Cleveland nostalgia, said Cory Rossen of Rozi's Wine House in Lakewood. "This is their memory of Cleveland."

That may be especially true for homesick, displaced Clevelanders.

Mike Procuk, who grew up in Cuyahoga Heights, is a project officer with the U.S. Army living in Maryland. He's traveled a lot, and he said it's tough explaining to people who have never visited Cleveland why the city is so great.

He said you can tell people about Progressive Field. You can tell people about how great the Browns once were. You can even describe the Terminal Tower. But they don't appreciate Cleveland's pride.

"With Christmas Ale, you describe it, you give them a bottle and they understand it all," said Procuk.

Christmas Ale is in a perfect marketing storm, said David Sutula, the former brewmaster at Willoughby Brewing Co. who now helps run 'peeps creative, an Akron Market.

It's a good product people want; it's nostalgic; it involves Christmas; and there's a limited supply, said Sutula, who is not involved with marketing Great Lakes beers.

Sutula said he's known for a couple of years that Christmas Ale struck it big. But he didn't realize until this year, when he saw his mother-in-law order one in a restaurant, the depth of its pull.

His mother-in-law drinks wine, he said, adding that he had never seen her even sip a beer. "We're sitting there and she said 'I love this Christmas Ale,' and I'm thinking I can't even have a half of one or I'm seeing double," Sutula said.

"The strange thing about being a Clevelander is, if you belly up to a bar, people complain about missing this or missing that, how bad Cleveland is now," Sutula said.

But it's sort of like your mother's cooking. Even if your mother was a horrible cook, you still long for what she made you as a child, he said.

"Christmas Ale brings Clevelanders back to that place, back to that good place in their minds they remember. It brings them back home."