As
I drink another Provençal rosé, I am reminded that a couple of weeks ago I started writing a
blog on a rosé tasting we had. Unfortunately, I did not save my blog
and I lost it. We all shared our thoughts on 4 different rosés, but
now I can only try to remember our notes. One of our musings was that so
many red wine drinkers tend to dismiss rosés as inferior wines. Are rosés
the Red-headed stepchild of Red wines?
It
is a shame perception becomes reality when it comes to wines. Educating
the average wine drinker becomes a challenge when misinformation and prejudice
stand in the way of exploration and discovery. Too many times when I am
pouring wine at tastings, I get an immediate reaction: "Oh, a rosé...
I don't like sweet wines" or "Rosés are too light for
me". Although I can see how a lot of rosés might be too light
for big red drinkers, every wine has its merits, and paired with complimentary
flavors, I have seen people change their tune. But why do people turn
their noses up when offered a rosé?
I
decided to research the history of rosés, hoping to understand the negative
perception. It is believed that rosés are the oldest known type of wine, as
Ancient Greeks made lighter colored reds, quite possibly since brief
skin-contact is one of the easier and less-expensive winemaking methods. Rosés
can range from a very dry Provençal Grenache to more fruit-forward California
Pinot Noir or Cabernet to a sweet white Zinfandel. Well, there may be the answer - people relate
roses to a sweet white Zin! What started
out as a mistake – Sutter Home was in the middle of creating a dry white Zin
that got “stuck” while fermenting, which resulted in a sweet, lower-alcohol
wine - became a hit in the tasting room, and started a craze for housewives
across the country.
The
popularity of white Zinfandels led to more wineries making pink sweet wine,
flooding the grocery store shelves with cheap, light, low alcohol “rosés”. Guess that could affect the public opinion
that all rosés are wimpy sweet wines.
Wanting
to debunk the myths and explore true rosés, we decided to try a few examples of
popular rose styles.
They
each had their merits, two from Provence, one from Cahors, and one from Russian
River. The first, an inexpensive rosé, Chateau Beaulieu from Provence,
France, was light and acidic. I remember we thought it was palatable and
enjoyable, but not a high quality wine, lacking body and flavor. The second
wine, the highly touted Pitt-Jolie Miraval, was more impressive; light body,
slight acidity and faint essence of unripe red fruit. Definitely
this rosé was of higher quality, but for some of our palates, it left
us wanting a little more body. The Pigmentum Malbec Cotes du Lot rosé was
much more robust, pleasing the cab drinkers in the room, smooth with a touch of
oaky vanilla. Our last rosé was a Pinot Noir from La Crema.
Known for their Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, this rosé was rich,
flavorful and fruit-forward, with the characteristic flavors of the varietal.
Overall, the La Crema received the most favorable review, but we enjoyed
every one. Our conclusion is that there is a style of rosé for most
palates.
We
didn't include two of my favorite bold rosés: Isabel Mondavi's IM Deep Rosé of
Cabernet Sauvignon and Blue Rock Rosé of Cabernet Franc, both sporting rich
varietal flavors but with a light crisp acidity you would expect from a rosé. I buy IM by the case and drink from Spring to
Fall. It is a great accompaniment to the
Turkey and cranberries; I serve both IM and one of my favorite Pinot Noirs from
Sonoma or Russian River with dinner.
Despite
public opinion, rosé wines are more than worthy of a place on my table, and I
often find myself sipping a rich cabernet or citrusy Grenache rosé on any given
night. Music in the background as I
type – wine by my side – what could be better?
