Sexy, Sexy Rosé

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I never really liked rosé. Cough medicine pink and triggering recollections of bad glasses of sugary white zinfandel, like many wine drinkers and connoisseurs alike, I regarded them with my nose snubbed high at the one dimensional layman’s drink. When the news broke about five years ago that rosé was back in fashion I still stood strong in my prejudice, reluctant to hop on board with any trend. Nevertheless, the ever-evolving world of wine kept turning with a wave of Old and New World winemakers paying extra special attention to making some really high quality bone dry rosés. Critics were loving them, sommeliers were pairing gourmet meals with them, and paparazzi were shooting stars sipping them. It wasn’t until the beginning of this spring season that my eyes were opened to the beauty of these pretty pink potions.

We had just received a slew of new vintages at the little boutique wine shop where I work in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and lovingly placed them in an arch-like form on the light oak shelving. Surveying the recent arrivals my co-worker and I agreed that the rows of curvaceous bottles in shades of a precarious peach to much bolder ruby reds were looking sexy. Damn sexy. My curiosity and attraction to the once passé option was been peaked. Full of fragrant fruit and floral perfumes, there is simply nothing more appropriate to accompany this season of bright eyes and beautiful blooms. To put it simply, as the Boss would say, “Rosie you’re the one.”

The unwritten etiquette of rosé commands that it not be sipped during winter’s shortening days, during a thunderstorm, or in a windowless room. The delicacy within a bottle is best experienced outdoors under the sun, along with a slight breeze and a sky as blue as blue can be.

Not every rosé is good. It still seems all too easy to find a bad one reminiscent of that girl you know who wears her skirt an inch too high and her rouge a touch too dark. These are overreaching rosés, not only of the unfortunate Mondavi white zinfandel variety, but also including watery fruit bombs, often in the past coming from places like California and Australia. Lacking character, flavor, and finish, these rosés fall flat almost immediately after hitting the tongue.

Rosé, made from red grape varieties, can be manifested from anything from a shiraz to a malbec to an Italian barbera. Previously it was not uncommon to make rosé from simply blending red and white wine that had already been made; as is still done in parts of Champagne. Progressive techniques have more recently been developed such as the French saignée method, also known as bleeding, or “cap and drain”; terms referring to the separation of juice from skins. Despite its traditional stigma as a mere flippant summertime wine, rosé is actually the result of an intricate and time consuming winemaking process which, more or less, involves the body in the belly of red skinned grapes to be de-stemmed and pressed (sometimes using a bladder press) soon after their harvest so as to avoid prolonged contact with the skin. The juice is left on the tannin-filled skins for a short period of time, usually between one and three days, depending on the grape. This is a tricky part that must be diligently overseen. An array of nuances of color and flavor intensity can be determined in the time between, for instance, five and seven hours of the juice and skin’s contact. Here, the winemaker gets to play god of the tanks and barrels. Like making a great souffle, timing is of the essence in creating a rosé that is just so.

How diminutive a technique! The result being a lighter, more crisp, less tannic and less complex version of the grape’s full potential, while still possessing many of its characteristics. For instance, A to Z vineyards in Oregon’s Willamette Valley does a rosé made from Italy’s native sangiovese grape. Its hue is deep and its taste reminiscent of gardening after a rain storm. The sangiovese grape, which traditionally makes a drier wine possessing a brilliant acidity that matches up harmoniously with the acidity in tomato based dishes, is simply a lighter freer version of itself in this form. The extra earthly spin lent by Willamette’s soil causes this dry rosé to simply beg for a pairing with some heirloom tomatoes and mozzarella drizzled in balsamic vinegar and topped with fresh basil.