Drink the Pink Before You Bid Farewell to Summer

With the beginning of the school year, the kickoff of football season and the end of vacations, September is marked in our minds as a part of autumn. But, lest we forget, for its first 21 days, September is an official month of summer. And in these brow-mopping afternoons, we can often expect summer’s sunny touch to extend well into October. All this is to say that a transitional month calls for a transitional wine, and that wine is rosé. Most people think of rosé as the perfect wine for high summer, but I argue that it’s a September wine. A good dry rosé has the briskness and acidity to refresh us as well as any white wine. In fact, like a white wine, rosé is served chilled, adding to its blowsy summer appeal. Yet, with its touch of pink or (in the case of the darker ones) good dollop of red, the wines have a hint of substance, a recognition of the more ponderous and introspective moods of autumn. In this country, rosé’s push for acceptance has been a long, hard road. Of course, this has been the case for wine in general, but rosé, it seemed, had the toughest path. This is because the best-selling wine in the United States has been and continues to be the wine known as blush. Let us never confuse this unctuous, sweet and utterly pointless imitation of wine with what we call rosé, which is dry, structured and full of character. Yet because of the confusion, many people are still afraid to drink the pink, automatically assuming that it will be sweet. Of course, we know that this is not true. While a rosé wine can be made by simply mixing a little bit of red wine into a white wine (this is how most rosé Champagne and bulk still rosé is made), the highest quality table rosés are made with the juice of red grapes that has been kept with the skins for a shorter period than red wine – anywhere from a couple of hours to a couple of days. The skins contain all the grape’s color, tannin and flavor, and so the degree of color and flavor in the wine depends simply on how long the juice spends with them. But though it’s made all over the world – anywhere red grapes are grown – the emotional and ancestral home of rosé is France. This is because no people love rosé more, drink more of it and make more diverse styles than that grand country with one arm in the Atlantic and one toe dipping in the Mediterranean. Like people, rosé comes in all types – fat, thin, dark, light, etc. – and you can find all of them in France. The lightest of rosés may have just a touch of pinkness that is barely visible. Often in France and sometimes in this country, you will see these light wines labeled as “vin gris” or “gris de gris.” Literally translating as “grey wine,” this is the term used for rosé in the Jura region of France, which is in the far east of the country nestled into the Alps. Here the rosés are very light and delicate, almost grey in color, as opposed to pink, and the name for the wine simply caught on with wines from elsewhere made in this style. While rosés are made in the Loire valley from Pinot Noir and Cabernet Franc, as well as in small amounts in Bordeaux and Burgundy, the capital region is the southern Rhône and Provence. It is from these warmer regions in the south-central part of the country that the most delicious rosés are made, primarily with the Grenache grape. Grenache would seem to be the perfect grape for rosé, as its wines already tend to lack good color and much tannin, but it can produce lovely, fruity wines with reasonable levels of alcohol. From this area, the town of Tavel makes France’s most famous rosé, but nearby areas known as the Costières de Nimes and Corbières are definitely worth seeking. Italy produces some rosés, but it’s not known for them. Spain, however, does have a tradition of producing these wines, and the best and most famous rosés are from the regions of Cigales and Navarra. These are made from the grape Garnacha, which, yes, is the same as our old friend Grenache. In the United States, we find rosé from all over. Some of my favorites are Oregon’s rosés of Pinot Noir and some lovely Grenache-based wines from California’s Central Coast. The two greatest things, however, about dry rosé are not just its snazzy pink color and inexpensiveness. Rather, the first is that it pairs with everything. A great dry rosé is the ideal wine to order if someone at the table is having fish and another is having a light meat. The second is that it’s a wine that you just don’t have to think about. You don’t have to sit around and discuss the nuances of its blend of earth and fruit. You don’t have to speculate about how it reflects its vintage and terroir. And you don’t have to meditate on its profundity. No, as we wave farewell to summer and cheer the speck of autumn in the distance, all you have to do is drink the sucker.