Try Dry January with Sobrellerie's "living" beverages

In Paris, Benoît d’Onofrio makes non-alcoholic fermented beverages from fruits and vegetables. Packaged in bottles identical to those used for wine, they are designed to pair with food.

Justine Knapp Published on 1/1/25 at 8:01 AM

In the depths of winter, as dusk falls, only the lights in the store windows seem capable of warming up Rue Ramponeau in Paris’s 20th arrondissement. One of them frames a neat row of bottles—a constant feature of eastern Paris. Slender glass bottles stand out solely by their labels, which flash with bold colors. In reality, an imperceptible difference at first glance sets them apart: some do not contain alcohol.

Benoît d’Onofrio, known as “Sobrelier,” opened his “Sobrellerie”—a play on the neologism—in October 2024. It’s a place to eat and drink, particularly featuring his homemade fermented beverages, which he had previously reserved for the menus of culinary residencies.

As you walk deeper into the small dining room toward the stainless-steel kitchen, a row of jars stands side by side like penguins on the ice floe. A sticky note reads: Squash—persimmon—chicory—rice—sweet clover.“It’s funny—one started fermenting faster than its neighbor, even though they’re from the exact same batch,” observes Benoît, his childlike eyes level with the surface.

Benoît starts his fermentation processes without a “mother” (unlike kombucha), without grains (unlike kefir), and without added sugar. Only the microorganisms naturally present on the organic fruits and vegetables spring into action, following the variations specific to the season or the conditions of the day. Immediately, the scent of pumpkin seeds fills every corner of the room from the oven, which is pretty much the only source of electricity used in production.

At the other end of the spectrum, the booming non-alcoholic market—which is increasingly being entered by major brands—largely relies on costly industrial processes to remove alcohol from wines, beers, and spirits.

Extraction, racking, pressing

To prevent alcohol from forming in his beverages, Benoît monitors the natural sugars that could trigger this process. The challenge is to temper their intensity without sacrificing flavor. Benoît crushes the fruit by hand to gently extract the aromas and pulp, then lets it macerate, rakes off the must, presses, and filters by gravity. These are all techniques borrowed from the world of wine, his point of reference. Now, his conversations with winemaker clients revolve around technical subtleties.“I face similar problems, such as issues like volatile acidity or oxidation.”

Nevertheless, the rosé-colored liquid and then the coppery-hued one he pours into the stemmed glasses in front of him are not presented as non-alcoholic wines.“I refuse to promote a beverage based on what it lacks. That’s how the non-alcoholic market works, but my goal isn’t to make people think they’re drinking wine. These beverages have their place at the table for what they are. Historically, a sommelier isn’t limited to alcoholic beverages, but to all drinks, from a glass of water to coffee.”

Wandering Aromas

On the backs of the vintage bottles sitting on the table, the labels list about ten ingredients, as if plucked at random from a hat (ranging from Muscat grapes to toasted bread and watermelon). The only purpose of this detail is transparency:“Two markets stand in opposition: the wine industry, which is struggling economically, and another that capitalizes on alcohol while having no obligation to disclose the composition of its products, the quality of its raw materials, the use of artificial carbonation, or the extravagantly high actual sugar content,” says the Sobrelier with irritation, convinced that there’s room for everyone—without barbed wire.

He buries his nose in the first glass and is moved: “At bottling, it was the beet that stood out the most.” Three months later, it takes a back seat, highlighting the evolving character of the drinks. The cuvée has a vinous density and a lingering finish thanks to a vegetal bitterness scented with thyme and citrus.

Next to it, the second drink is marked by a streak of acidity in a full-bodied sip. It suggests warm spices—cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom—even though none of these ingredients were used in this recipe based on apple, melon, and aromatic herbs, all sourced from the same vegetable farm. Thanks to fermentation, the elements either blend aromatically or take on a life of their own.“For example, the tarragon used can easily evoke licorice,” he explains.

“The richness of a beverage doesn’t depend on alcohol or sugar. It’s the fermentation that matters—its ability to create an aromatic profile, a subtle acidity, and a sense of deep salinity.” And to take it beyond grapes or other basic plant materials—a concept familiar to high-end bottles.