Cocktails Will Save Sauternes
Despite how Bordeaux aristocrats may feel, this sweet wine has always been part of mixology history. And it always will be.
Some are born rebellious, some achieve rebelliousness, and some have rebelliousness thrust upon them. I was the third, though I’ve never cared much for decorum. Neither did “Tiny” (my name for him), a very large software salesman who had forgotten to wear a jacket to the high-end restaurant where I once worked. We were both victims of an antiquated idea. But rules were rules in the dining room, and I fitted him with a thrift-store jacket we kept for just such occasions. At his size he looked like he was wearing a child’s jacket, sleeves cut at his mid-forearm, like Chris Farley in a little coat.
Tiny seemed humiliated and so I took pity on him, bent the rules, and permitted him to leave the jacket behind. Rather than return the good will, Tiny took the entire scenario as a deep insult. I tried to convey that I was on his side — what did I ultimately care if he dined in his logo-ed polo shirt — but I sensed his simmering rage. Tiny and his crew sat and ordered several expensive wines, older vintages from Heitz Cellars to Opus One. As I ran to fetch the bottles, I feared a confrontation was imminent.
About halfway through the meal, Tiny summoned me over and asked if the Heitz Cellars Cabernet Sauvignon was a good wine. I answered: “Yes.” He asked me if the Opus One was a good wine. Again, I answered: “Yes.” With an indignant glare, he then asked if they’d be better mixed, trying to challenge my sommelier sensibilities. Tiny watched my face for some sign or horror or shock or discomfort. He meant to remind me of my place: I was a servant, the bottles were only grape juice, and he was in charge. “Would they be better mixed?” I replied, “Yes, doubly so.” And, with that, I poured one decanter of very expensive wine into another, performing an act of impromptu mixology. Tiny never saw it coming. I smirked and carried on with my night. Tiny sat flabbergasted.
I thought about that night — and the audaciousness of mixologists — when I saw a recent hot debate about Sauternes, the famed sweet, noble-rot wine from Bordeaux. In an angry open letter to the French publication Terre de Vins, Count Alexandre de Lur Saluces, former owner of prized estate Château d’Yquem, railed against the trend of using Sauternes in cocktails, saying it was “arrogant” to think that Sauternes wines could be enhanced through mixology.
“You seem convinced that as it stands, [Sauternes] has no future. That this wine belongs to the past. So you want to improve it with various subterfuges: ice cubes in the glasses, orange or lemon zests, sparkling water, etc.,” writes the Count, chastising producers who have marketed the wine as a cocktail ingredient — including the saujito, a take on the classic mojito. “No doubt you were thinking of shock as a ‘marketing’ means to shake the consumer. I wish you luck. He is not that silly and will not be manipulated.”
The Count ends on an aristocratic flourish: “Sauternes wine does not deserve an improvement but a protection, that which one grants to the witnesses of civilization.” Sauternes does indeed have a proud history and certainly deserves some measure of protection. But cocktails are also part of Sauternes’ history, and the history of civilization, whether the Count likes it or not.
Sauternes is created by exposing semillion, sauvignon blanc, and muscadelle to noble rot — a fancy word for the fungus botrytis cinerea. When botrytis infects these grapes, they will shrivel due to the evaporation of water and their flavor and sugars become concentrated. The sweet white wine can only be made in the Bordeaux region in Graves, but it may have originated as a reaction to flavored wines from Dutch merchants in the 17th century. Once revered and coveted in the royal courts of Europe, its popularity has bottomed out in the 21st century. Sales have been sluggish for over a decade.
That’s where cocktails come in. Contemporary bartenders are looking for low-alcohol bases — Sauternes is around 13 percent alcohol by volume, far lower than most spirits — as well as natural sweeteners in place of added sugar. Regardless of pedigree, cocktails provide a prime opportunity to preserve one of the world’s great wines, not harm it. Fortunately, wines like Sauternes have been part of mixology for as long it’s existed.
None other than Jerry Thomas — who wrote the pioneering bartending book How to Mix Drinks, or the Bon-vivant’s Companion in 1862 —features a Sauternes Cobbler with sugar, shaved ice, an orange slice, and seasonal berries. It’s a delicious drink and, while I might not draw from the magnificent 1959 Sauternes vintage to mix it, I would not hesitate to use a more modern vintage of the hallowed Château d’Yquem. Thomas also mentions a Sauternes Punch, as does Harry Craddock’s The Savoy Cocktail Book from 1930, calling for maraschino liqueur, powdered sugar, and Grand Marnier mixed with the wine.
Whether the Count likes it or not, the practice of mixing things with wine (whether water, barley, honey, resin, or other things) precedes mixology and dates all the way back to the ancient world, where it was common practice. In the eleventh rhapsody of Homer’s Iliad, Homer writes: “In it the woman, like unto the goddess, had mixed for them Pramnian wine, and grated over it a goat’s-milk cheese with a brazen rasp….” I’m not encouraging this, only documenting it. I love Sauternes and have happily drunk it with blue cheese, one of my favorite combinations. But if a bartender should sneak some cheese into the wine itself, they wouldn’t be upending the entirety of human history.
The point is this: Though it may offend Count Lur Saluces’ sensibilities, history is on the side of the mixologist. Using still, sparkling, and dessert wines — even Sauternes — is an old and enduring tradition, one that I think Sauternes producers would do well to embrace to boost sales and preserve their own traditions.
Perhaps mixing with wine requires more care than my petulantly emptying of one decanter into another, as I did to Tiny’s selections. But it requires no more permission.
Sauternes Cobbler
Adapted from The Bartender’s Guide: How To Mix Drinks, by Jerry Thomas
- 3 ounces Sauternes
- Spoonful simple syrup
- Orange slice
- Seasonal berries
- Mint sprig
Add Sauternes and syrup to glass. Add crushed ice and garnish with orange slice, mint sprig, and berries. Stir gently. Sip with a metal straw.
