It has been years since rosé got a good grip on consumer wallets. Once the exclusive product of southern France, and then the darling of the white zinfandel craze of the 1980s, rosé has finally earned a respectable place at the table. Despite its durability on the market, it has become a victim of its own success.
Today, nearly every producer in every country makes rosé from just about every grape variety. So, if you can find rosés from Spanish tempranillo, California pinot noir, Italian corvina or Argentine malbec, what is the definition of rosé? We first associated rosé with southern France, a region where rosé relied on a handful of grapes cultivated by generations of farmers whose sole goal was to make rosé. It is here where producers have been perfecting the summer quaff for centuries.
Many of them, such as Domaine Ott, make nothing but rosé. While many producers use whatever grape varieties are in their vineyards, their products contribute to what some French producers derisively have called a “swimming pool” of rosé. France has its own swimming pool of plonk, but they aren’t as quick to admit it.
Every year we taste our way through dozens of rosés from every country, and the differences are often remarkable. In the typical rosé, the crushed grapes soak with their skins for only a few hours, which gives the wine its pink hue and simple flavors. Those that have a deeper red color have been left to soak for more than 24 hours.
So, any red gra.
