Rosé: Life Seen Through Pink-Colored Glasses
I come from a large French family who all have very strong opinions about wine. Red wine in particular, as that is what they have always favored, more specifically the wines from Bordeaux. To say that there is a cultural bias amongst them is an understatement. Like many people, I also grew up with the view that rosé was not a very serious wine. It was trotted out on hot summer days, perfect for picnics and barbecues or for quaffing down in large quantities at an outdoor party, a wine which was often a little too sweet, and one that few people had any qualms about adding ice cubes to. It was certainly not a wine that one would pair food with, let alone plan a meal or an elaborate party around. Oh, how times have changed!
Rosé sales have exploded over the past decade, notably for pale, dry, more acidic Provencal-styled rosés. Winemakers around the globe and all over Santa Barbara County have taken note. Many have added a rosé to their wine portfolio where 10 years ago they made none. This surge in the wine’s popularity began in the early 2000s in France. Now, rosé outsells white wines in that country.
Rosé’s lack of pretension and affordability have made it hugely attractive to millennials in particular, and savvy marketing by some of Provence’s biggest producers have driven its popularity to Instagram-frenzied heights. The demand for the beautifully hued wines has made the United States the second-largest consumer of rosé, after France. Since 2014, the U.S. even has a National Rosé Day (this year, it’s on June 12). In 2017, rosé sales in the U.S. jumped a staggering 53%, and the trend continues
So, what is all the fuss about, and why did we all embrace this style of wine now?
Eight years ago, I was lucky enough to have lunch at a winery in Provence that has since become synonymous with the epitome of rosé, Chateau D’Esclans (Home of Whispering Angel). Located in undulating hills, inland from the Mediterranean, some 25 kilometers from the ancient city of Fréjus, the vineyard and its charming and charismatic owner, Sacha Lichine, were turning the rosé world on its head. He believed that rosés could be subtly crafted wines and he set about transforming the market.
“What differentiates today’s rosés from the overly sugared blush bottles of the past is finesse,” he once said. His goal was, and is, to make “wines that are light yet floral, with a delicate richness, and the paler the wine, the better.” This is the style of rosé that has become so prestigious and has influenced winemakers around the world. As we toured the winery, he and his cellar master explained their winemaking process: maceration. Rosés are made from many varietals of red grapes which, once harvested, are gently crushed to allow the juice to macerate (sit on their skins), anywhere from a few hours to a few days, in order to extract the desired amount of color and flavor. The juice’s limited contact with the grape skins gives rosés their much-vaunted pinkish hues. The grapes are then lightly squeezed in a press to extract the optimal amount of juice, which is, in turn, poured into stainless steel tanks, or oak barrels, and vinified similarly to a white wine. I learnt more about rosés in those few hours than I had ever known before. The visit broadened my perspective.
A few years later, I returned to the Chateau, on what was then its 10th anniversary celebration. As the sun set, the Italianate building was bathed in pink light. The 300 guests were serenaded into a huge covered tent hung with elaborate chandeliers and festooned with gigantic floral arrangements. The appetizers and the multi-course dinner all featured prodigious quantities of truffles, paired with a vertical tasting of the Chateau’s finest wines. The evening was enchanting, and I could write paragraphs about the astonishing food and two-foot-high pyramids of black tubers, but what struck me the most was just how far “simple” rosés had come. This was now wine on an international bestseller list.
No sooner had I returned to the States than I started reading about rosé festivals across the country. The press announced that guests in the Hamptons had a momentary panic attack when it appeared that they were going to run out of “the pink stuff.” It seemed Florida positively bathed in it. New City launched an annual “Pinknic”—a two-day festival bringing together chefs, foodies, musicians and more—dedicated to celebrating summer with a fresh glass of rosé in hand. At the 2016 event, banners read “Save water, drink rosé,” and they did, en masse.
California, now home to more than 4,500 wineries, also joined in. From Napa Valley to Los Angeles, La Vie en Roséthemed festivals flourished, sprouting like the state’s spring poppies in every wine-growing region. Everyone got the message. Rosé was refreshing, uncomplicated, easy to choose and fun! The advent of Covid put a stop to mass gatherings, but wineries quickly pivoted to online tastings to share their latest vintage. Now, after a one-year hiatus, “drink pink” festivals and competitions are gearing back up for 2021.
I admit I have joined in the fun too. Whereas 10 years ago I would never have served a rosé at a cooking class, much less paired it with dishes at a winemakers’ dinner, now those very winemakers are extolling the virtues of their own rosés to pair with all types of food. Karen Steinwachs, the esteemed winemaker at Buttonwood Farm and Winery, often suggests rosés (she makes two: a very pale, very dry Grenache rosé and a Syrah rosé) to go with foods that are notoriously difficult to pair wines with, such as grilled artichokes and asparagus, or with an endive, herb and goat cheese salad, for example. She has made a convert of me, and I now champion its versatility.
For instance, I use a lot of herbs in my cooking and have found that serving a crisp rosé with a herb pesto risotto is just the ticket. It also works incredibly well with all types of grilled and roasted fish, white meats, vegetarian feasts and provides a refreshing complement to spicy food, such as a hot Thai curry, an Indian vindaloo or a spicy chili.
A few years ago, I traveled in Europe with friends from California. During our peregrinations around the French countryside, we cooked and ate meals together in every pied-à-terre we stayed in. This nocturnal communal gathering always began with a platter of excellent gooey cheese procured from whatever local market we could find, a crunchy baguette or fougasse, a little pâté or rillettes and some rosé. This was de rigueur. This lovely ritual followed us back across the Atlantic, and when our motley crew got together, everyone brought rosé. We laughed every time, reminisced about the trip, caught up on the news about our kids, munched on a piece of cheese, and delighted in a glass of nostalgia—pink-tinged of course. Hopefully, we will be able to gather around the table and do the same again soon!
