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Things to do with rosé

            Straddling the Pyrenees at the junction of Spain and France is Basque country. The Basque language, a great puzzle to linguists, is unrelated to anything on earth. The Basque are a proudly defiant people, fond of demanding their independence and blowing things up. A favorite national drink there is Kalimotxo, a mixture of Coca Cola and bad red wine. The traditional recipe is very specific on that point: the wine must be really bad. As my local source (we’ll call him Deep Basquet) describes it, Kalimotxo is, “A cheap drink, to take in great quantity, that causes important headaches.”

            Less important, but far harder on the stomach, is Pitilingorri, a blend of lemonade and bad rosé, traditionally made when supermarkets are out of red wine.

            Without the lemonade, rosé holds an important place in the Basque ritual of “Poteo,” which consists of visiting as many bars as possible in one night and drinking a glass at each one. “At the end of the street you'll probably feel not right at all, just see your friends and you'll notice this is totally normal,” explains DB. Anything stronger than rosé, it seems, would make you feel twice again as not right. Poteo is strictly a male affair; females (Basquettes,) are not welcome. But they don’t mind, because the fact is that Poteo, “is not bad or reprochably, just an old tradition of our Basque ancestors that has to be keeped.”

            Despite this rough-and-tumble role for rosé, outside of Basque country many people still have the impression that pink wine is strictly for the ladies. They would have you believe if a guy drinks pink he is somehow less of a man. These people are correct

           But only if he’s drinking that insipid faux-zé known as blush. The word was coined here in the 60s and has come to refer to those low-acid, soft, sweet soda-pops exemplified by whitezinfandel. Now perhaps you started with white zin. You might even still like it. That’s fine. It simply means you haven’t been introduced to anything better.

            Because while pink might be the color of blushing babies and tea-roses, in the case of rosé it signifies something else entirely: red wine with its shirt off. Just as you jettison the tie and jacket and put on those absurdly long shorts when the weather gets warm, red grapes are separated from their skin—where the color resides. This results in a less tannic, but still very flavorful wine. Think of rosé as a lighter version of your favorite red--merlot, syrah or grenache—like a seasonal oil change from 5W30 to 10W40.

            Good rosé is dry, not sweet. Served chilled, it bursts with summer-fresh fruit and refreshingly zingy acid. It matches beautifully with food. No worries if you throw chicken, fish and ribs on the grill. Rosé can take them all on without breaking a sweat.

            Apparently, Americans are finally getting the message. Rosé sales were up 45% last year, making it one of the hottest growth segments in wine. What happened? Did we turn into a bunch of pansies? Or Basques? No, it’s just that all those kids we’ve been medicating for ADD have grown up and become wine drinkers. Unlike your grandpa, who drank the same brand all the days of his life, these consumers crave change. They’ve raced through New Zealand sauvignon blanc and Spanish garnacha and now they’re ready for a new experience. Rosé fits the bill. 

             Plus it comes with an appealing price tag. You can probably get more pink wine for your buck than any other color. And there are so many good ones from all over. France and Spain are leaders, but virtually all countries pump it out. One reason is a recent glut of red grapes. When the public cant’t take any more cabernet, producers make it pink.

            Since vibrant, fresh fruit is the point, rosé is at its best drunken young. Watch out for higher-alcohol versions; they can be heavy rather than refreshing. On the other hand, they might also result in that important headache, so prized in Basque country. So next time you find yourself thinking—Does this wine make me look gay? just make like a Basque and blow something up.

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Featured:

SoloRosa California Rosé 2006 (USA) $14

Bone dry, and bursting with watermelon, strawberry and cherry flavors, plus a squirt of tangerine acidity.  Always one of my favorite rosés, it’s like diving into a cool brook on a hot day, only you don’t have to worry about getting your hair wet.