Society as I Have Found It - Madeira Wine Guide

by Ward McAllister

Madeira wine was the ultimate status bottle in Gilded Age America. Ward McAllister explains how elites stored, served, and named old Madeiras.

Ward McAllister’s memoir is a surprisingly rich source for Madeira wine culture in the United States—especially among the Southern and New York elite. The most concentrated discussion appears in Chapter XX (“Madeiras”), but Madeira also shows up elsewhere as a marker of social rank, cellar pride, and “serious” entertaining.

Madeira wine: what McAllister actually says (quick summary)

Madeira wine is the “capstone” after-dinner bottle—served after the ladies leave the table, when talk turns serious.
Old Madeira functions like social currency: households “pride themselves” on it, and reputations follow the cellar.
Service details matter (glass type, handling, and the idea that Madeira is sensitive after being moved).
He discusses styles and preferences, including Sercial, Bual, and Malmsey, plus lighter “rain-water” styles.
He names famous “named” Madeiras associated with cities, clubs, families, and (often) ship-lots.
Madeira appears in food culture too—most memorably as a traditional addition to terrapin stews.

Key takeaway (for Madeira wine readers)

McAllister treats Madeira wine as the ultimate “proof” a host is the real thing: not just wealthy, but experienced, connected, and properly supplied.

Chapter XX: “Madeiras” — the main Madeira wine section

1) Madeira wine as the “king of wines” in the dinner sequence

McAllister’s preferred formal sequence ends with Madeira wine. It’s positioned as a “national wine” with deep American associations—something you bring out when you want the night remembered.

2) Age, maturity, and the “heirloom” idea

He describes families treating old Madeira as an inheritance: bottles and pipes bought, kept, and talked about for decades. Crucially, he argues that only fine Madeira improves—poor Madeira stays poor no matter how long it sits.

3) Naming, ship-lots, and “famous” Madeiras

One of the most historically useful details is his claim that celebrated Madeira wine often took its identity from the ship it arrived on (and later from households or clubs that became custodians of the lot). He lists famous examples by city, including Philadelphia’s “Butler 16,” Savannah’s “All Saints” (1791), and ship-name Madeiras such as “Catherine Banks” and “Rapid,” among many others.

4) Fining and style preferences (including Sercial, Bual, Malmsey)

McAllister describes a split between those who prefer fuller, richer Madeiras and those who prefer lighter, delicate “rain-water” styles. He also describes local practices for “fining” Madeira (notably in Philadelphia), and he repeats period beliefs about Sercial’s pedigree. He explicitly names Sercial, Bual, and Malmsey, and pushes back on the stereotype that Malmsey is merely a “sweet” or “ladies’” option—arguing that very old Malmsey can be extraordinary.

5) Storage and handling: garret/attic, air, and settling after movement

He’s unusually practical about how Madeira wine should be treated in the home. He advocates garret/attic storage, suggests light and air aren’t the enemy, and warns that some practices (like overly tight glass sealing) can make wines “go to sleep” and take years to recover. Elsewhere in the memoir he makes the point even more sharply: moved Madeira needs a long rest before it shows well—he says, “Madeira of any age, if once moved, cannot be tasted until it has had at least a month’s repose.”

Other Madeira wine references across the memoir

Madeira as authority and status (Savannah society)

In a Savannah episode (Chapter VII), McAllister notes that the British Consul was treated as an “authority on wine,” with Madeira singled out as the benchmark. In the same Southern entertaining context he describes the old habit of sitting late into the night over Madeira—part of what made certain dinners “events to live for.”

Madeira as tradition and inheritance (Southern hosts)

Earlier in the book, Madeira appears as the treasured bottle brought out for meaningful occasions—inheritance wine, family pride, and “blood of the ancestors” talk. These scenes support the Chapter XX theme: Madeira wine isn’t merely consumed; it’s displayed, narrated, and remembered.

Madeira vs England (Delmonico’s dinners)

At a grand dinner in New York (Chapter XIII), McAllister boasts that Americans have better Madeira than England—only to be checked later by the Duke of Beaufort, who insists great old country houses can also have excellent Madeira. The exchange is revealing: Madeira is treated as a prestige item worth “debating” at the table.

Attic storage in practice (Rhode Island farm dinners)

In the same chapter he describes keeping claret in a cellar and Madeira wine in a farmhouse attic, crediting cold winters with helping preserve very old bottles. He recalls pouring an “Amory of 1811” Madeira and watching guests examine its amber colour and bouquet before drinking.

Madeira in food culture: terrapin stews

McAllister also uses Madeira as a culinary signpost of elite American dining. When discussing terrapin stews, he contrasts a Baltimore approach (seasoning the terrapin and adding Madeira) with a Philadelphia approach (butter and cream), presenting Madeira as a classic component in the “black stew” tradition.

Madeira wine “named bottles” mentioned by McAllister (examples)

Philadelphia: “Butler 16”
Savannah: “All Saints” (1791), plus ship-name lots including “Catherine Banks” and “Rapid”
Boston: “Amory” (1800; 1811), “Kirby,” “Otis”
New York and elsewhere: multiple household/city “famous” names listed in Chapter XX

FAQ: Madeira wine in McAllister’s memoir

Why does McAllister call Madeira wine the ultimate after-dinner bottle?

In his entertaining “rulebook,” Madeira wine is the final, prestigious pour after the main meal—partly for tradition, partly because it signals the host has both taste and a serious cellar.

Does the book suggest Madeira wine is meant to improve in bottle?

McAllister argues that fine Madeira improves with long keeping (often decades), but he also insists poor Madeira stays poor. His focus is on maturity and careful handling rather than “bottle development” alone.

What does McAllister say about moving and serving old Madeira wine?

He treats Madeira wine as unusually sensitive after transport and believes it needs substantial rest (“repose”) after being moved. He’s also specific about serving it in a fine, slender “pipe-stem” glass rather than heavy cut glass.

Which Madeira wine styles does he mention?

He explicitly names Sercial, Bual, and Malmsey, and he discusses preferences for richer styles versus lighter “rain-water” Madeiras.

What’s the significance of “named” Madeiras (ships, clubs, households)?

McAllister suggests famous Madeira wine lots often gained identity from the ship they arrived in, and later from the club, family, or city that became associated with the wine—turning Madeira into a collectible with a story, not just a drink.

How does Madeira wine appear in food, not just as a drink?

He uses Madeira as a marker of elite American dining, including a classic terrapin preparation where the stew is seasoned and finished with Madeira—contrasted against cream-and-butter versions associated with other cities.