The ice clinked against glass as Victoria handed me my first Clericot on the terrace overlooking Playa Brava. We were three days into my stay in José Ignacio, that sleepy fishing village turned bohemian hideaway about thirty minutes north of Punta del Este. This is where Buenos Aires society disappears each December, trading the city's chaos for endless summer afternoons that seem to exist outside of time. I still hadn't figured out what made this drink so essential to everything, but watching Victoria's careful ritual of building each glass told me I was about to find out.
"I wait all year to enjoy this drink," she said, watching me take that first sip. The white wine hit my tongue first, dry and clean, then came the sweetness from muddled strawberries and chunks of peach that had been mixed with a dash of sugar just long enough to release their juices. A splash of sparkling water made it effervescent, while the Triple Sec added just enough sweetness to balance the fruit's tartness.
By sunset, I understood. Clericot isn't really about precision (though Victoria insisted on macerating the mixture for one hour before serving). It's about the ritual of preparing it together, the way afternoon conversations stretch when your glass stays cold and fruity. At every gathering that week, someone would appear with a wooden spoon and start the familiar choreography: diced fruit first, a sprinkle of sugar to draw out the juices, then wine poured slowly over everything. The sparkling water went in last, creating that satisfying fizz that meant another perfect afternoon was officially beginning.
The drink follows the rhythm of Punta del Este summers. You start assembling it around four, when the Atlantic breeze picks up and the day's heat begins to soften. Strawberry slices and tangerine half-moons get muddled gently with ripe pear chunks while someone debates whether Cointreau or Triple Sec makes the better choice. By seven, when that particular golden light hits the water, everyone has transitioned from afternoon sips to evening Clericot without anyone announcing the shift.
Three weeks later, back in Buenos Aires, I tried recreating that terrace moment. The ingredients were identical, but something felt off. Maybe it was the missing ocean breeze, or the way time moves differently when you're not watching the sun dissapear beyond the ocean while boats dot the horizon.
Today, in San Diego, I make Clericot on my balcony and listen for that gentle fizz when the sparkling water hits the wine. The feeling won't ever be quite the same as those unhurried evenings in Punta del Este so long ago, but there's something about the ritual of dicing fruit and waiting for sugar to work its magic that brings back those December afternoons when nowhere else mattered.
Ingredients
- 2 Granny Smith Apples, diced
- Peaches, diced
- 1 Pear, diced
- 2 Tangerines, peeled and sliced in half moons
- Large handful of Strawberries, hulled and sliced
- 1 cup of Grapes, halved
- 2 tbsp. Sugar
- 100ml Sparkling Water or Club Soda
- 50ml Triple Sec or Cointreau
- 750ml Bottle of Chilled White Wine
- For a non-alcoholic mocktail, swap last 2 ingredients with white grape juice
Instructions
1. In a large pitcher, add chopped fruit, white wine, Cointreau, and sugar.
2. Stir well to combine, lightly pressing down on the fruit.
3. Chill the mixture for at least 1 hour allowing the fruit to infuse the wine.
4. Just before serving, add the sparkling water and stir.
5. Spoon fruit into wine glass or highball glasses then pour Clericot.
Raquel's Tip's:
Feel free to use any seasonal fruit you have on hand.
Freeze leftovers into large ice cubes and enjoy with chilled white wine another day.
Watch me in action as I prepare my favorite drink - Clericot
