When it rains, we pour -- A look at Chateau Peyrassol Rose

Was a soggy few days last few days here in Happy Valley. Typically, I’d be dipping deep into richer reds as the chill of winter starts to come on, but I’m not going to pass up an opportunity to continue my passionate advocacy for Rosé All Day just because the weather’s getting colder.

Honestly, I have no issue with rosé during the winter months. As an aperitif, I’d prefer to drink rosé than many whites when a chill is in the air, especially if I’ve got some meats and cheeses to snack on.

Drinkerbell, the wine fairy, brought along a bottle of Château Peyrassol 2019 Côtes de Provence Rosé during the soggy slog of last week. This bottle from Provence is a lovely reminiscence of summer, as well as a darned good food wine.

The Chateau itself has a fascinating history. Founded in the 13^th century by the Knights Templar, the Chateau originally was a major way station for pilgrims traveling to the Holy Land (we will avoid subsequent discussions of the Crusades, however). After the French Revolution, the land was acquired by the Rigord family, where the wives ran the winemaking aspects of the estate through the following couple of centuries. Philip Austruy purchased the property in 2001 and revamped the winemaking operation.

Made from grapes from the oldest vines on the Chateau’s property, this blend of Syrah, Cinsault, Grenache, Ugni Blanc and Rolle (the last is better known as Vermentino), is a pale, rosy pink in the glass. The freshness inherent of a lot of Provence rosé hops right out of the glass at first sniff with aromas of lemon, orange blossom, and peach. These flavors carry straight through to the crisp, pleasant palate.

One criticism I have of some rosés is that they try for “fresh” and land on “acid bomb” instead. Not the case here. This wine has great balance between acidity and round mouthfeel. The finish is fresh, clean, with a lingering citrus flavor. Such a nice wine to just sip on, honestly.

As I mentioned, we tried this with a charcuterie board of salami, Marcona almonds, and Manchego cheese and it made a lovely companion to the starter. The chicken for dinner, roasted with a paprika-based spice paste, was a bit too assertive for the delicacy of this wine (Luckily, we had a nice bottle of Beaujolais in reserve!) – so if you’re having it with food, I’d probably stick to fish or a lighter meat preparation.

Or, you could pop and pour it in front of a fire and imagine how good it will feel once the weather warms and we can start being outside again. We’re going to need these kinds of reminders to get through the winter together in one piece.

This wine retails for $18-22. If you’re interested in spending a little more on a nice bottle of rosé, it’s certainly in that category.

Naked Vine Showdown: Inexpensive Rosé -- Bota Box vs. Black Box vs. La Vielle Ferme

As the heat of summer continues to build, more and more of you are reaching for tasty bottles of cold rosé. Lots more of you, in fact. Whether from Provence or Petaluma, American consumption of rosé has exploded in the last decade.

When I wrote the first words in this space in 2006, the U.S. imported somewhere in the neighborhood of 200,000 liters of rosé from Provence. In 2016, upwards of 8 million liters found their way to American palates. Big Wine Store near me recently rearranged its shelves – devoting practically an entire aisle to the pink stuff from around the world, where I used to hunt for my goodies from Tavel and Provence tucked away in a dusty corner near the White Zin.

As I started my quest to get my readers to embrace my oenological mentor’s mantra that “Pink is not a flavor” and that dudes could drink pink wine and still feel manly, dry rosé was one of the best kept secrets of the wine world. But as the world’s caught on to just how daggone good the stuff is, winemakers and distributors picked up on the public’s new thirst and began raising prices to match demand. Where a $15 bottle of rosé was almost unheard of just a few years ago, many quality entries are now in the same range as premium reds and whites – in the $25-30 range. Heck, I sampled a rosé a few months ago tagged at $70.

The Lineup -- Drink Pink and Don't Think!

People, that’s just crazypants. Rosé is a wine for happiness. It’s a great choice for meals, sure – but it’s darned near impossible to drink rosé and be depressed. There’s something about that fruit and acid balance that just calls for friends and a social setting. And while, yes, there are certainly levels of quality that can roughly correlate with price – come on, that’s simply excessive. Give me $70 and the Spanish section and I’ll get you three bottles that will knock your socks off. A $70 bottle of rosé is just showing off.

The other end of the spectrum, thankfully, hasn’t been pushed out of the market entirely. I like my rosé cold and plentiful and if you’re reading this, I know you do, too. After a recent trip to the store where I saw that a couple of producers are now boxing rosé, I decided to pit three large-format rosés against each other in a happy-go-lucky wineglass rodeo. The contenders:

• Bota Box 2016 California Rosé (3 liter box -- $20-25)
• La Vielle Ferme 2016 Rosé (1.5 liter bottle -- $14-18)
• Black Box 2016 “Limited Edition” California Rosé (3 liter box -- $20-25)

[Side note – a few of you may remember that I swore off Black Box wines after a series of messes in my fridge from spout issues. I let one back in the house…you know…for science.]

The La Vielle Ferme is from the Southern Rhone valley, just northwest of the Provence region. It’s a blend of Cinsault, Grenache, and Syrah. The Bota Box and Black Box wines are considered “California blends” – meaning there’s not 75% of one varietal in either. The Black Box wine says that it’s “built around Syrah,” and I couldn’t find info on the makeup of the Bota. I suspect it’s also Syrah-driven.

Pouring the wines side-by-side-by-side, the LVF was by far the lightest in color – the pale pink traditionally associated with much French rosé from Provence and surrounding environs. The Bota Box was a slightly darker pink, although still clearly on the lighter side of the ledger. The Black Box was a darker salmon color, almost orange. This shouldn’t be considered a defect – rose gets its color through brief contact with grape skins. The longer the contact, the darker the wine, so one would expect a richer flavor with a darker colored rosé.

On to the flavors – rosé typically has a fairly delicate nose, as was the general case here. The Bota Box’s nose was light with peaches and strawberries as the dominant characteristic. I found it to be medium weight for a rosé, with more strawberries and a mildly acidic palate. The finish was crisp and fairly clean. I see this as an inexpensive American riff on a French rosé.

The LVF was along the same lines as the Bota, but classed up a bit. While peaches and strawberries were in the game here, the nose was much more “blossomy” on those particular flavors. The wine was lighter and more crisp, with lemons, peaches, and strawberries all taking their turn on the palate. While it’s certainly not a complex wine by any stretch, it tastes like what you would expect from a dry French rosé.

The Black Box was produced in a different style altogether. Oranges and grapefruit were the first flavors I got from the bouquet, which was followed by melon and cantaloupe on the palate in a somewhat heavier style. The finish was fruitier, lower in acid, and had a minerally/metallic taste that wasn’t nearly as pleasant to drink as the other two. Served cold, this would be good if you really weren’t thinking about it much. A cheap rosé for day drinking perhaps.

So, as one might expect, the wine that came in the big bottle topped the two boxes, but not by much. I’d not hesitate to pour either the Bota Box or the La Vielle Ferme on a hot summer’s day for some kickback time or with a meal where you really aren’t looking for a perfect wine pairing. Drink your rosé without thought and with happiness, the way it was intended.

By the way, which one's Pink?

When my s.o. (girlfriend? partner? Is there a better term when you’re in your 30’s and shacking up?) read my last column, she came across my throwaway line where I disparaged white zinfandel. “Afraid of the pink, are we?” she said.

I’m not afraid of the pink – pink wine, that is – I’m just judgmental. I freely admit, for the longest time, I’d see people around me in a restaurant ordering pink wine and feel a little rush of pride that I had better sense. I don’t like white zin for the same reason that I don’t like fruit wines – I look for a giant smiling pitcher to crash through the wall hollering, “Oh yeahhhhhh!” after the first sip. To me, white zin is wine for folks who…well…don’t like wine.

One of the strangest white-zin-related things I ever saw was on the patio at Pompilio’s (for non-residents of Cinci-tucky – Pompilio’s is a divine neighborhood Italian restaurant up the street from the homestead) – a man ordered a pitcher of ice, a carafe of water, and a carafe of white zin. He poured the wine into the pitcher, then filled it the rest of the way with the water – I still haven’t figured that one out.

Over the years, I developed a real distaste for anything resembling white zin. Then Renee Koerner, the person who taught me the most about wine, uttered a simple sentence on a lovely spring day in 2005:

“Remember…Pink is not a flavor.”

And thus, my mind and palate were opened to the world of rosé.

Rosé should never be confused with white zin. Rosés are made with the same process and attention to detail as red wines – except that the grape skins are removed from the fermentation container after a couple of days. The skins of grapes give red wine its color, so the wine ends up a light pink. The skins also give red wine richness – so rosés tend to be lighter in body and slightly sweet.

A quick word on fermentation. Fermentation is a glorious chemical process in which yeast is added to a solution containing sugar. In simple terms, yeast eats sugar, farts carbon dioxide, and pisses alcohol. Tasty, no? The type of yeast, the speed of fermentation, the temperature, the sugar concentration, and sundry other fermentational factors affect the flavor of wine.

White zin starts in a similar fashion to rosé, but the winemaker not only pulls the skins out, but generally ferments the juice much more quickly, and leaves a good deal of sugar in the wine to mask any “imperfections” in the taste. The result, in my estimation, is a salmon colored, syrupy mess. OK, OK – some people legitimately enjoy drinking white zins – and I know that those are good people at heart. Really. Honestly. I just think there are better options if you want something sweet and wine-related…

Rosés are great summer wines. They’ve got a little more “oomph” than many whites, so you can use them with any number of foods, but they’re still very refreshing when you’re in the midst of a season when you feel a twinge in your head and wallet any time you hear your a/c compressor kick on.

Les Jamelles 2004 Cinsault -- Strawberry fields forever! Cinsault is best known as a French blending grape. France actually plants more cinsault than cabernet sauvignon. As for this wine, light and fruity to the nose, Les Jamelles is much more on the "white" end of the rosé spectrum. The taste is very much like a sauvignon blanc -- a little citrusy and a lot of strawberry. It finishes with a little crisp bite on the back of your tongue -- like you've finished a really good grapefruit. Perfect for sitting by the pool, or with a light fish or chicken dish. Hits right around the $8 price range.

Muga Rioja 2004 Rosé --. Riojas are classic Spanish reds made from mostly the tempranillo and garnacha grapes. Riojas tend to be big, fruity wines, and a rosé made from those grapes follows that lead. This winery's name splits neatly into two syllables that tell you all you need to know about this wine's flavor: Mu-Ga -- Melon/Grapefruit. Once the wine warms up a bit (you do not want to drink this ice cold) -- the initial scent of this one is a ripe melon. This stays with you through your first sip, but the wine widens to a grapefruity taste, and then stays just on the sweet side of strong citrus through the taste. If you've got any kind of pork or jerk chicken, go with this one. Muga will set you back $9-10.

Folie a Deux 2005 Ménage a Trois Rose -- The sweetest of our selections. I'd tried some of the other Folie a Deux blends (and they're from Napa, not France) -- and I'd enjoyed their red and white. This rosé had a marked berry nose, but tastes like strawberries and peaches (minus some sweetness) when quaffed. The finish is much less sharp than the other two, making this the quintessential pool wine. If you're laying out during the rest of the summer, chill this down and bring it out when you head outside -- let the sun warm both you and the wine a bit before you start drinking. You also could also pair this with some grilled shrimp if you wanted. This one’s right around $8-9.

Before we depart the pink -- I must report that I have found a use for white zinfandel. While I have no doubt that it would also work wonderfully in a hummingbird feeder, an ambitious picnic-goer can make a killer sangria with it. Mix a bottle of white zin with a ½ cup of peach schnapps, a shot of triple sec, a couple of tablespoons of sugar, a couple of cinnamon sticks, and some sliced fruit. Chill that well in the fridge, and just before you serve it -- throw in a 10 oz. bottle of club soda. Enjoy!

Until next time -- Santé.