Rhubarb Stalkers
A Strange Little Obsession
Some people chase glorious sunsets, or overflowing puddles. We chase rhubarb. We’ve wandered allotments at dawn, poked around old kitchen gardens and crouched in damp corners of the countryside where crowns sleep under soil like ancient secrets. It started as curiosity, then turned into devotion, then something even stranger. You don’t choose to become a rhubarb stalker. It chooses you.
Older Than Empires, Odder Than Most
Rhubarb’s story begins in China around 2700 BC, long before anyone considered it as the perfect fool. It travelled across continents as medicine, gathering myths until it finally reached Britain, where it settled in the climate it never knew it needed: cold, damp, dramatic. A vegetable pretending to be a fruit, tart yet beloved, unglamorous until transformed. Truly, a plant after our own hearts.
England’s Pink Triangle
Rhubarb doesn’t always start its life in sunlight. In Yorkshire it grows in darkness by candlelight, coaxed into blush pink perfection by farmers who whisper to crowns the way some people whisper to horses. It’s gothic. It’s gorgeous. It’s utterly English in that peculiar way… a vegetable forced into beauty through sheer eccentricity.
Why We Made Auberon
Most rhubarb liqueurs taste the way pink looks in cartoons… sweet and artificial. Rhubarb deserves better than that. We wanted the snap, the green edge, the perfume, the tart brightness that only fresh stalks can give. So we pressed it ourselves, to get the deliciously pink liquid that sets the standard for Auberon. Natural, characterful, tart yet sweet. Distinctively moreish.
Made In England, Adored Everywhere
We distill Auberon in Hertfordshire, close enough to rhubarb country so that our stalks arrive perfectly fresh and unadulterated. We press them lovingly, blend them slowly and bottle the exact colour nature gives us. No enhancements. Each batch quietly reflects the season: spring sharpness, summer elegance, late-season depth.
A Drink With A Point Of View
Pink, but not pretty. Sharp, but civilised. Auberon works in spritzes, in highballs, with gin, with whisky, with sparkling wine, with tonic or simply over ice. It adds backbone where drinks get flimsy, brightness where they get brooding, charm where they get too serious. Versatile, yes, but never neutral. A touch eccentric, always interesting.
Forever Stalking
We still follow the harvest, taste every batch, wander fields in search of the next perfect stalk. Some call it obsession. We call it love. The most English things are often the most contradictory: light and dark, refined and ragged, silly and serious. Rhubarb has always understood that. And so do we. Auberon is our way of bottling its beautiful contradictions and pouring them generously.