Sweet Wine Isn't Making a Comeback. It Never Left.

Rob keeps a bottle of Vin de Constance in every cellar he has ever owned.

Not because anyone told him to, and not because a critic handed it a score that made him pay attention. He found it the way most serious collectors find the wines that stay with them -- by accident, at someone else's table, in the middle of a conversation about something else entirely. A friend poured it without ceremony at the end of a long dinner in Cape Town sometime in the early 2000s. Rob was expecting something cloying and obvious. What arrived in the glass was something else -- precise, layered, alive with tension despite the sweetness, and still talking to him twenty minutes after the glass was empty.

He bought a case before he flew home. He has bought one almost every vintage since.

The Long View 

For most of the past two decades, Rob has watched the wine world dismiss the category he quietly kept adding to. Sweet wine had been quietly filed away as a category for people who hadn't yet developed a palate -- something that belonged on supermarket shelves and dessert menus at restaurants that weren't trying particularly hard.  He listened to the dismissals at tastings and dinner tables and said very little. He had learned, early, that the people who talked loudest about what serious wine drinkers should and shouldn't drink were rarely those that actually knew the most about wine.

He kept buying. Vin de Constance, yes -- but also Sauternes in the right vintages, Tokaji from producers most of his peers hadn't heard of, and the occasional Noble Late Harvest from Stellenbosch that made him think the Cape was onto something that the broader wine world hadn't caught up with yet.

In 2025, WineCap published their year-end fine wine market report against a backdrop that most collectors would rather forget -- prices down across almost every major category, demand soft, and sentiment cautious across the board. Which made it all the more telling that two of the top ten best-performing wines of the year were Chateau d'Yquem 2014 and Chateau Suduiraut 2016, both sweet wines, with WineCap specifically flagging "renewed collector interest in undervalued dessert wines, particularly when linked to exceptional vintages." 

Rob read the report over breakfast and felt something close to satisfaction, though not surprise.

What He Understood That Most People Didn't

The dismissal of sweet wine has always rested on a misunderstanding -- one that conflates the category's least interesting examples with the whole. White Zinfandel is sweet. So is Chateau d'Yquem. Putting them in the same conversation says nothing useful about either.

What separates the world's great sweet wines from the forgettable ones is not the presence of sugar but what surrounds it. Acidity is everything. Without high natural acidity running underneath the sweetness, a wine becomes flat and cloying -- the version people are right to avoid. With it, the sweetness becomes a vehicle for concentration, complexity, and a finish that can linger thirty seconds after the glass is empty.

The most celebrated method for getting there is noble rot -- botrytis cinerea, a fungus that under the right conditions of morning mist and warm afternoon sun dehydrates the berry and concentrates its sugars, acids, and flavor compounds into something that no other winemaking method can replicate. Sauternes is built on it. So is Tokaji. So, in exceptional years, is the Delheim Edelspatz from the Simonsberg slopes in Stellenbosch. Then there is the method Klein Constantia uses for the wine that started Rob's obsession -- passing through their Muscat vineyard 18 separate times across a single harvest, picking only the berries that have reached exactly the right point of natural desiccation. Eighteen passes. Most producers won't commit to one.

The Valley That Started All of This

The wine that found Rob that night in Cape Town came from Constantia -- South Africa's oldest wine region, sitting on the eastern slope of the Cape Peninsula, cooled by ocean air from both the Atlantic and Indian Oceans.

Its relationship with great sweet wine goes back to the 1600s. The original Constantia wine, made from Muscat de Frontignan on the estate now split between Groot Constantia and Klein Constantia, was the most sought-after dessert wine in the world during the 18th century. The list of people who sought it out reads less like a wine note and more like a history lesson -- Napoleon requested it weekly during his exile on Saint Helena, Jane Austen wrote it into Sense and Sensibility as a remedy for a broken heart, and Nelson Mandela, in the years after his release from Robben Island, counted it among his wines of choice. A sweet wine from a valley just outside Cape Town, connecting those three figures across three centuries, tells you something about what this place is capable of producing.

That reputation was never built on marketing. It was built on what the valley produces when Muscat de Frontignan is grown in cool, high-acidity conditions and harvested with a patience that most producers won't commit to. Robert knew this history before he visited the first time. He went back three more times anyway.

The Wines Rob Keeps Coming Back To

Klein Constantia Vin de Constance 

The wine that started everything, and still the reference point. Made from 100% Muscat de Frontignan, naturally desiccated through those 18 harvest passes, then aged in oak before bottling, Vin de Constance is one of those wines where every vintage tells a slightly different story -- shaped by the season, the rainfall, and the precise moment each berry reached the right point of concentration.

The 2021 is the vintage that serious collectors should know about. A cooler, slower growing season extended the hang time on the vine and produced a wine of remarkable tension -- Greg Sherwood described it as "impressively taut, bright and nervy," with pithy citrus and white peach freshness, passionfruit, peach, guava and marmalade building underneath. Jane Anson awarded it 98 points. Vinous gave it 97, placing it second among all sweet wines of the vintage -- one point ahead of Chateau d'Yquem. That is not a comparison made lightly, and it reflects what the Constantia Valley is genuinely capable of in an exceptional year. Sherwood's drinking window: now to 2060.

The 2022 tells a different story. A warmer, drier season with a condensed harvest window produced a wine of greater intensity and concentration -- richer on the nose, more opulent on the palate, but with the same structural tension that keeps Vin de Constance from ever feeling heavy. Greg Sherwood awarded it 97 points, and Neal Martin gave it 96, noting "there is richness, as you expect, but there is also no sense of heaviness and plenty of tension on the finish." James Suckling's note captured the aromatics well -- apricot jam, jasmine, orange rind, mango, clove, and creme caramel, concentrated and luscious, balanced by bright acidity and a long, spiced finish.

Both vintages are currently available. The 2021 is the more restrained, nervy expression -- built for a longer cellar and a patient collector. The 2022 is more immediately generous and works beautifully now alongside aged hard cheese, foie gras, or simply an evening that calls for something unhurried. Rob keeps at least one of each. He opens the 2022 when the occasion presents itself and leaves the 2021 alone for another five years, minimum.

For collectors interested in back vintages, a few years stand above the rest. The 2007 was the wine that announced winemaker Matt Day's arrival -- awarded 97 points by Neal Martin at Wine Advocate, it was the highest-scoring South African sweet wine in history at the time of its release and the wine that put the modern era of Vin de Constance firmly on the international map. The 2015 is widely considered one of the greatest vintages of the modern era -- Tim Atkin awarded it 98 points, describing it as "one of the greatest ever vintages of this iconic wine," fresher and more refined than the already celebrated 2014, which itself won Tim Atkin's sweet wine of the year. The 2019 is another standout, earning 98 points from Decanter and 97 from Vinous, with a precision and purity that several critics compared favorably to a great dry Alsatian wine despite its 166g/L of residual sugar. The 2010, produced from just seven barrels after a near-total crop failure, was aged for 15 years in barrel before release in 2025 as a limited collector's item -- only 4,500 bottles were made, and it has already become one of the most talked-about releases in the wine's 300-year history.

Each of these vintages demonstrates something important about Vin de Constance as a category: this is not a wine that simply repeats itself. It responds to its vintage, evolves in the bottle, and rewards the collector willing to explore more than one expression of the same vineyard.

Cellaring potential: 20 to 40 years depending on vintage. 500ml or 1.5L magnum.

Groot Constantia Grand Constance 2022

Same valley, same grape, different wine -- and the difference is worth understanding. Grand Constance comes from South Africa's oldest wine estate, founded in 1685, and where Vin de Constance leads with precision and tension, Grand Constance is generous and amber, built on naturally desiccated Muscat berries fermented on skins and aged 24 months in barrel. Tim Atkin awarded it 93 points.

The nose leads with orange zest, dried apricot, ripe mango, and gentle oak spice. On the palate the sweetness is creamy and full without tipping into heaviness, lifted by that cool-climate Constantia acidity that keeps everything honest. The finish is long and layered -- dried citrus and stone fruit persisting well past the last sip. Rob serves it beside blue cheese when he wants to watch first-time sweet wine drinkers change their minds in real time.

Cellaring potential: 20 years. 375ml.

Tokara Straw Wine Chenin Blanc 2025

Straw wine is one of the oldest methods of concentrating sweetness in a grape -- and one of the most labor-intensive. At Tokara's high-altitude Stellenbosch estate on the Helshoogte Pass, hand-picked Chenin Blanc grapes are laid out on racks and left to dry in the sun for three to five weeks before pressing. No botrytis, no late-harvest waiting game -- just patience, sunlight, and the slow concentration of everything the grape has to offer. After 35 days of slow fermentation, the result is a wine that carries the character of Chenin Blanc's natural acidity alongside a sweetness that feels earned rather than engineered.

The nose opens with sun-dried apricot, pineapple syrup, and barley sugar -- intensely aromatic in the way that only properly desiccated fruit can produce. On the palate the sweetness is rich and immediate, with rock candy and concentrated stone fruit, but a bright natural acidity runs underneath the whole thing and keeps it from ever tipping into heaviness. The texture is luxurious without being cloying, and the finish is long, clean, and gently spiced. It belongs beside foie gras, duck liver pate, or a well-made creme brulee -- and it is one of those rare sweet wines that also works beautifully on its own at the end of an unhurried evening.

For a collector looking for a sweet wine that sits outside the Constantia conversation entirely, this is the one. A different grape, a different region, a completely different method -- and a genuinely compelling result.

Fairview La Beryl Blanc 2024

Not every bottle in a respectable sweet wine collector’s cellar requires a decade of patience. The Fairview La Beryl Blanc -- a naturally sweet Viognier from Paarl -- is the one to open when the evening calls for something rich and aromatic without the formality. Stone fruit, floral notes, a texture that coats the glass slowly. It pairs naturally with spiced dishes, creamy desserts, or simply an occasion that doesn't need much of a reason beyond the wine itself.

What 2025 Confirmed

Rob isn't crowing about the WineCap data. That's not his style. But he did forward the report to a few friends who had spent years telling him that sweet wine wasn't serious -- with no accompanying message, just the link.

The market catching up to what patient collectors have always known is good news for everyone. South Africa's contribution to this category -- rooted in a valley with a longer sweet wine history than most US buyers appreciate, and priced well below its European equivalents -- is one of the more compelling entry points available right now. The wines are serious. The prices haven't caught up yet. That gap, Rob would tell you, is exactly where the interesting buying happens.

Explore the full sweet wine collection at Cape Ardor. Some of these bottles are worth opening now. Some are worth setting aside and forgetting about for a decade. Rob would probably suggest both.