The bittersweet tale of Sauternes

Back then, of course, the world of wine centered on Bordeaux. Nowadays, consumers may choose from a vast panorama of wines from sources that once seemed inconceivable. Bordeaux no longer occupies that position of unmatched esteem. In New York, it’s not easy to find recent vintages of Sauternes. Small wine shops may carry one bottle if you’re lucky. Sotheby’s retail shop on the Upper East Side is one of very few with a wide selection of both recent and older vintages.

Sauternes has also been victimized by a declining interest in sweet wines in general. Once, sweet wines like Sauternes, the products of arduous labor, meticulous care and the luck of the vintage, were venerated as an ultimate pleasure. Their place on the table was evidence of great good fortune and perhaps a heightened perception of the sweetness of life.

Times change, though, and today few people really know what to make of wines with the sweet intensity of a Sauternes, or other similarly sumptuous nectars, like beerenauslese riesling, Tokaji Aszu, Coteaux du Layon from the Loire or even fortified examples like port and malmsey Madeira.

These other wines, particularly those from the Loire, receive an occasional embrace from the wine vanguard, which can rightly revel in the excellent values available in extraordinary wines that are largely ignored.

But Sauternes? Whether because of its history, its price (rarely cheap) or the perception that, as with much of Bordeaux, it is more luxury good than agricultural product, Sauternes has been consigned in the imagination to the realm of dusty vaulted chambers, paunchy old men in formal dress and cigars.

“It is a shame how these exceptional wines are underappreciated and underutilized,” said Neal Rosenthal, a wine importer who happens to bring in my favorite Cru d’Arche-Pugneau, one of a few remaining small, family-run properties in Sauternes. There, based in the village of Boutoc, surrounded by some of the famous names in Sauternes, Francis Daney farms about 32 acres planted with the classic Sauternes grapes: sémillon, which contributes richness and texture; sauvignon blanc, for freshness and acidity; and a bit of muscadelle for fruity accents.

For anybody, but especially for small farmers with limited resources, making Sauternes is a risky waiting game. Not only must the grapes ripen fully until near bursting with sugar, but farmers must also hope the weather attains just the right balance of humidity and autumn breezes to produce Botrytis cinerea, the fabled noble rot, whose spores attack the grapes, absorbing water, shriveling skins and reducing healthy bunches to ghastly, desiccated masses. Out of this ugliness comes rare beauty, gorgeously extravagant, honeyed wines in which sweetness is balanced with acidity. At their best, they can age for decades.

Given the realities of modern family life, dinners quickly cobbled together, the food vying for attention with electronic devices, where is the role today for sweet wines, especially one like Sauternes, which can intimidate with its ceremonial associations?

“One of the things that I regret is that the image of Sauternes is sometimes too closely linked with formal gastronomic occasions,” said Christian Seely, managing director of AXA Millésimes, the arm of the AXA insurance group that runs a portfolio of top wineries, including Château Suduiraut, an excellent Sauternes producer. “It is above all a supremely pleasurable wine, and one that needs no excuse, context or pairing: You can just open it for the sheer pleasure of the thing.”

Indeed, the complex spectrum of flavors in a good Sauternes can provide moments of contemplation that require no accompaniment, except maybe thoughtful music or a good book. Beyond this, and the classically brilliant combinations of Sauternes with blue cheese (love it) or foie gras (not so much), can Sauternes be integrated into a more typical modern setting?

Seely suggested trying it with Sichuan food. I did, and found it to be a more provocative than natural match. I can say that a lively, energetic 2007 Château Coutet, with flavors of candied orange zest and flowers, was a better bet than a more opulent ’07 Château Guiraud to go with oily, vibrant twice-cooked pork. He also proposed simple pairings: fresh goat cheese, or an orange or mandarin, which makes intuitive sense to me.

I also asked Denis Dubourdieu, an enologist and consultant whose family has a long history with Sauternes at Château Doisy-Daëne, for some ideas. He suggested salty foods like Serrano and Parma hams, Peking duck (“Try it, it’s amazing,” he said), veal cutlets sautéed in olive oil and Sauternes, and simple roast chicken. I found the chicken to go surprisingly well with a racy 2011 Château Doisy-Védrines (no relation to Doisy-Daëne).

Perhaps because of the lush texture of Sauternes, I find myself drinking less of it than I would, say, a dry white. Fortunately, if you do find a supply of Sauternes, it’s often available in half-bottles, a perfect size for experimentation — of which I plan to do more. I do have some great ideas.

While musing about foods that may go with Sauternes, my colleague Florence Fabricant suggested latkes. Brilliant! Latkes and Sauternes is a perfect Hanukkah match of savory and sweet. In Bordeaux, Sauternes is often recommended with lobster. Rosenthal, the importer, suggests what sounds like a superb recipe: sauté medallions of lobster with shallots, and deglaze the skillet with Sauternes.

“Drizzle the deglazed pan juices over the lobster,” he said, “and drink the Sauternes with glee as you eat it.”

The one thing I am not actually interested in eating with Sauternes is a sweet dessert. It seems like overkill to me when the wine itself is sweet enough.