Wine

I recall the first time I offered a glass of rosé to my father. His eyes widened and he quipped “No thanks. I don’t like sweet wine.” He looked at me like I was crazy – like we had just met. I didn’t understand… why did he assume the rosé in my hand was sweet? Over the following years, this response to rosé was played out by imbibers everywhere. It is as outdated as a Walkman and as over-used as my last car, so please indulge me while I open your mind; you’ll thank me later.

Rosé, made from red grape varieties, and pink in hue due to skin contact (letting the skins sit with the juice post-crush), is a style as old as wine **pause for laughter**… it can be as varied as its brethren, white & red wine. While some rosé is sugary sweet, others are bone dry. While some are slightly tannic, others are light as air. While some are berry-forward, others taste the juicy watermelon. Rosé can be sparkling, still, or somewhere in between… really, it can be whatever you want it to be. There is truly a rosé for every meal and for every palate.

Rosé can come from Provence – like the fine, elegant wines made by Nathalie DeWulfCoquelle from Château des Annibal. It can come from Spain – like the fresh, fun wines made by Blanca Muro of RAW and Latue. It can come from Slovenia – like the aromatic, ripe wines made by Peter Gönc of Gönc Winery and Grape Abduction. Rosé can come from California, Portugal, Chilé, Greece, Champagne, Italy, Argentina, New Zealand, and on, and on, and on. She is a world traveler with a passport full of stamps.

So may I conclude my time on the debate floor with this: much like my father, and much like myself, rosé is complex and full of surprises. It does not belong in a box. It does not like to conform. Let’s give her the grace we owe ourselves – to embrace her completely, whatever way she decides to appear in our glass – whether her mood is dry or sweet.