Following-up from our last post regarding the history of rosé and its rise to prominence and dominance, I’d like to host an imaginary q&a sesh, pulling from my vast experience of overhearing misguided interpretations of pink wines. We’re setting the record straight and we’re not holding back. Buckle in, folks. 

Dark rosé is sweet, and light rosé is dry  

Ok, first of all, most rosé is dry. We only have dry rosé for sale at Cork right now. 

(There will be a section later where I repeat this information because I don’t want to, ever again, tell someone “no, the rosé is not sweet.” I know we sound friendly but please stop asking if the rosé is dry because it makes me scream internally.  It’s always gonna be dry its dry there’s no sugar in it please please help me I only want this one thing to stop being asked of me I love you all but we need to MOVE ON from this misconception thank you, goodnight.)

But color in rosé can be a big problem, and lead people to the wrong conclusions. Before we can explain why, let’s take a little journey to Digression Land. 

See,  all rosé, or rosato in Spain and Italy, (and usually rosé in the U.S. and abroad, including Germany) is wine which results from skin contact with red grapes. To make rosé, grapes are sometimes directly pressed off of their skins and then that juice is fermented (often creating the lightest-in-color rosé,) or the juice and skins spend a short amount of time macerating together either before or during fermentation. That “short amount of time” can be anything from a few hours to a few weeks, depending on the winemaker’s goal for the final product. Some rosé is made using the “saignée method” which “bleeds off” a portion of juice from the tank during the process of making red wine. This method essentially makes rosé as a by-product of red wine creation; by removing some juice from the still-macerating red wine, the winemaker increases the ratio of skins to juice, allowing for more color and texture to be extracted and creating a deeper, richer red. Finally, and ONLY in Champagne, “base” red and white wines are blended before the bubble-ification (technical term) process to create pink Champagne. Most of ya’ll already know that rosé is not simply “red wine and white wine blended together” but I know there’s a few people out there who’ve assumed as much for a long time. One of them may or may not live with me. 

 Exceptions to the rule of “red grapes + a lil’ bit of skin contact”  include wines which are sometimes sold as “rosé” but are in fact an “orange wine” made from skin-contact white grapes. Pinot gris tends to find itself in this murky middle ground due to the grape’s dusty grey/pink natural color. Does it matter at all in which category we place such wines? Like, definitely not. In fact, I predict that the borders between red/rosé/orange/white are increasingly going to find themselves blurred as producers utilize less maceration time with skins and juice hangin’ out in the tank (in the case of traditional reds) or more (with whites) and make creative decisions about how much skin contact a given cepage requires to flesh out the ideal flavor and texture profile. You’ll see more and more wine lists with “skin contact” sections, or more “orange wines” in white wine sections and more “rosé” in with reds...maybe we’ll do away with sections and categories as a whole and just go by profile and flavors alone. THINGS COULD GET VERY LOOSE, I’M WARNING YOU NOW. DO NOT BE AFRAID. 

Anyway anyway anyway, back to the original question---the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice, right? Well, sometimes. As I mentioned, the amount of skin contact and time determines much of how a rosé is going to look, taste and feel. A dark rosé very likely experienced more skin contact, and thus picked up more tannin, pigment, flavor, and body from skins than those with shorter contact durations. However, this does not necessarily mean that more sugar is present in the wine. Dryness and its association with super-light baby-cheeks-ballet-slipper rosé was likely forged by Provencal-style rosés. In Provence, to achieve official designation as a protected product and true “Provence” rosé, pink wines must have less than 4 grams per liter of sugar in their final product. Achieving this meant that producers would carefully select grapes with correct phenological ripeness and monitor fermentation closely to find the correct balance of alcohol to sugars. The resulting wines were often only kissed with skin contact to create an ideal, bright, refreshing beverage- wrought from the sun-drenched and fast-ripening abundance of red grapes in the warm southern regions of France. 

But, according to Master of Wine Elizabeth Gabay in her book Rosé: Understanding the Pink Wine Revolution, producers chasing the trend of “pale is dry and dry is good” and imitating the great producers of the region began harvesting their red grapes (often Grenache, Syrah, Mourvedre, Cinsault, Carignan...the “GSM” blenders) too early. Grapes had HIGH acidity, and dark skins, but not a lot of character. It’s important to understand that grapes turn dark pretty early in the season--- but this color does not indicate that it’s “time to pick.” Color will show up in July-August and remain unchanged over time, all while magic is happening inside the fruit. Really, it takes time to get good grapes, letting the fruit mature on the vine into late summer and early fall for the true flavor and expressive nature of a grape to showcase itself completely. So, if you wait to pick your grapes until they are more phenologically ripe, they will LOOK the same but they WILL have more sugar, and they will also have way, way more FLAVOR.   

Unfortunately, you will often lose some acidity along the way. In regions with wide diurnal ranges (diurnal refers to the difference in daytime and night-time temperatures, which, as we know from springtime in Vermont, can be DRAMATIC), fruit can ripen slowly and then retain its acidity from the warm daytime sunshine and cooling night-time effects. In Southern France, it kinda...gets hot and stays hot. Bye bye, acidity. EXCEPT, if you’re carefully growing low-yielding, old-vine, ocean-cooled vineyards of high quality, in well-drained and appropriate soils. Those guys have the chance to ripen more slowly, achieve more flavor, retain their acidity, and create rosés of high dimensionality, complexity, and character---all with a refreshing, dry palate. 

So producers who either lacked the terroir or the time to make wine of the quality that the best rosé producers were achieving went with what they could make work. They harvested early to retain that super-crisp, mouth-wateringly, searningly high acidity, added a short maceration, and BAM!- Provencal rosé. Thus, in the race to release more wines more quickly, and wines which satisfied the consumer demand for bracingly dry and high-toned rosé, some producers lost something kind of important along the way; flavor. 

So by now, you know that darkness of skins of grapes is a factor which is independent of full ripeness and full sweetness, and maceration time is the only thing that changes the color of the juice, and that you can’t really know if you’re getting a flavorful, maybe sweet rosé just by LOOKING at the bottle. You also know that in imitation of many of the best and most famous southern French rosés, producers have harvested under-ripe fruit and then added a short maceration time to give you...essentially pink acidic watery wine. And, listen---a lot of them can get away with it. Their fruit may have gotten ripe enough to show some white-strawberry, watermelon-rind, fresh raspberry characteristics…and all that brightness and dryness from acidity does create a quenching summertime sipper. I’ll have a shandy, a lemonade and vodka-I am not above a cheap Tecate with lime.  I, too, suffer from being dehydrated and hot and still trying to get a buzz on. Sue me. Light rosés are often dry, (because that’s what we want, and producers know we think light=dry) and they often do what they’re meant to do. It’s okay, I’m okay with it, I’m at peace. 

BUT! Some producers want to express a little more with their wines. They say, hey, we have dark skins, we have good fruit, let’s let them hang out in the tank a little longer. Moreover, some grapes have more PIGMENT in their skins and even if a maceration time is very short, the resulting rosé is still going to look dark. Colorino is a grape from Italy which is used explicitly pretty much because it lends pigment to red wines. Some red grapes like gamay and pinot noir have less pigmented skins, and the wines we get from them are ruby-toned and bright and light in body and color despite long maceration times. All grapes are not the same. What’s dark for a Provence rosé may be light when made in a different region, with different grapes. Moreover, some French rosé isn’t trying to be baby-pink, and is still phenomenally delicious. 

Take, for example, the rosés of Tavel. The Rhone valley’s “rosé-only” appellation, the wines of this region are also made from grenache and syrah, but tend to be darker in hue. We’re also a little further north in France, and experiencing a different geography and geology. Winemakers here create a rosé with deeper, more complex and satisfying fruit notes; a little white peppercorn and sage is blended in with wild strawberry and cherry tones, there’s a little more texture and tannin on the palate, and the resulting body of the wine is a touch bigger. But is she sweet? Nah! She’s bone-dry! She’s just got a little more goin’ on. And that’s the point. Tavel producers could use less skin contact and get a lighter-colored rosé, but in doing so, they’d abandon allowing those more savory, developed tones and textures into their final product. 

Tavel is just one example of a darker-toned rosé which is also dry and delicious, but it illustrates well the point I am trying to make; all you can really know looking at a deeply-blushing wine is that it experienced more skin contact than a similar but lighter-colored wine made from similar grapes, from the same region. Skin contact will add tannin and texture, but it does not confer sweetness. Moreover, because certain grapes are more pigmented, they may have had a short maceration and YET create a rosé that looks dark and complex. On the palate, however, it will be similarly bright in flavor and body to your favorite super-light, barely-blushing rosé. 

So, essentially, I have just told you that you know nothing and can’t make any assumptions when you’re looking at a rosé. But this isn’t true! You have power! Consider the following when shopping for rosé:

1. What’s the alcohol content? Higher abv often means a wine has achieved full sweetness and ripeness and those sugars have been converted to alcohol. Wines in the 9-11% abv will have less body, and be lighter and more quenchy. Wines hitting 12-14% will be more luxurious and heavy. If a wine swirls in your glass leaving big heavy streaks but you KNOW it’s low ABV, chances are it’s high in sugar. (Sugar and alcohol do the same thing, texturally, to a wine.) BUT, and ONE MORE TIME, FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE CHEAP SEATS, ALMOST ALL ROSE IS DRY. IF IT IS SWEET, WE WILL TELL YOU. WE WILL WARN YOU. IT’LL BE KNOWN. NO ONE REALLY MAKES SWEET ROSE. UNLESS YOU’RE SHOPPING BULK WINES IN FROSTED GLASS BOTTLES WITH “ZINFANDEL” or “BLUSH” ON THE LABEL, YOU’RE NOT GONNA BE SOLD A SWEET ROSE. *End of rant forever and always*

2. Look at the importer. Kermit Lynch’s Tavel from Chateau de Trinquevedel is an example of a dark rosé from a great appellation and a great producer- but if you aren’t here to scan your wine bible and memorize such regionalities, then just go with importers you know and trust to make those calls for you. SelectioNaturel, Zev Rovine, Selection Massale, Jenny and Francois, these are all good names to know when looking at European rosés in particular. Kermit is one of the oldest and first in natural wine importers, so his portfolio is more classically inspired. 

3. Consider the region. Is it hot there? The grapes will get ripe more quickly. We know skins don’t change once they’re dark, so even a very light rosé may still pack a lot of fruitiness on the nose and palate if it comes from a hot zone. California, Australia, Spain, Portugal, parts of Italy---they may produce rosé with more distinct berry and candied notes. If you’re looking for fruit and flavor (and still a dry profile,) look to these places. If you want something with bright acidity and herbaceousness, consider Northern/mountainous regions in Italy (Valle D’Aosta, Piemonte) France’s Loire Valley, Germany’s Baden and Mosel, and parts of the US like Oregon and Washington. 

4. Who’s the producer? Do you know about their style? A lot of our producers buck the trend and go experimental. Natural winemakers may create unexpected blends with varying maceration times to showcase their fruit at its best. If you’re enjoying the regular offerings from a winery, give their rosé a shot. Chances are you’ll discover something pretty cool. 

5. Moreover, look for unexpected regions for incredible creations and great value. Corsica > Provence. I said it. Also, I’m in love with a dark-looking rosato from Abruzzo, Cerasuolo. It’s a little regional specialty with its own adherents...and it’s just one of many unique takes on a pink wine which exist in wine traditions around the globe. It pays to explore a little. 

6. What’s the price---and is it justified? If you’re buying a rosé for less than, say, $15, do you know WHY it’s so inexpensive? At Cork, we source value wines from regions which tend to see the US dollar go a little further, like parts of Spain. We find producers who are super legit and make amazing rosé but focus on light, easy, and less costly product lines for the everyday wine shopper.  Tariffs have been rough on some of our favorite go-to French producers, but you can still score a perfect party-pounder from wineries around the great hexagon without breaking the bank. Many understand that rosé can’t demand a high price tag and it’s their way to liquidize and operate through the summer while still utilizing biodynamically-grown fruit and non-intervention winemaking. SOME rosé is expensive because it can be. It comes from expensive, ideal land and single-vineyard holdings in places like California and Provence, and takes measures to produce an exquisite product. It may be that the winery produces ONLY rosé and very little other product. It may be their specialty. If the price tag is high and it’s not from a cool producer, region, or importer, then think hard about what you’re paying for. Branding is expensive, and you shouldn’t pay for it. Looking at you, again, Whispering Angel. Don’t pay more for a gimmick or a label.  A lot of rosé is inexpensive, however. And chances are, it was even cheaper, waaaay cheaper, to produce. If it’s coming from a bulk producer in southern France, or has no appellation, isn’t from a known importer, and isn’t sold at a shop that promises to deliver only the goods (ahem, like us) then chances are it’s one of those “ high acidity but not very good or very interesting” bottlings. Go ahead, but know what you’re getting into. You can do more with the same amount of money if you take a little time to shop around. 

And finally, if you want light pink rosé because you think it’s better, or you want your rosé to taste a certain way, consider opening yourself up to new possibilities. Try new wines. And most of all, just, ask the people who sell the stuff. We want you to have what YOU want and what we think YOU’LL like. We won’t sell you a sweet, heavy, cloying beverage, or something far off-base from the crushable, dry, refreshing rosé that you likely want. We may point out that different wines have different characteristics, and some of them pair with foods better, and some are lower in alcohol and some of them are *danger juice,* (a lil’ too easy to drink yknowwhatImean?) but we are here to make recommendations based on trying all of these wines and understanding their profile. 

RAPID-FIRE ROUND

Rosé doesn’t age well

*WRONG* Many, many rosés are meant to be drunk young, but plenty act like other premium wines. A good producer’s rosé will last 5-6 years before it even peaks in its potential. Try some vintage Bandol. If you’re interested in a bottle-aged rosé, know that the best will retain their acidity and only grow more balanced. If you try an old rosé and it’s lacking brightness or flavor, chances are, that’s one that shouldn’t have sat around. It’s still fine to drink, but it’s just a little boring. Remember, cheap rosé goes for acidity before fruit---and it’s not gonna hold onto that for long…

Rosé is only for warm weather/ should only be drunk in spring/summer

*WRONG* True, rosé is produced in such a way that the most recent vintage/harvest is released in the spring for quick consumption. But it’s good all year long. I always want rosé with Thanksgiving food. It pairs amazingly well with a huge variety of dishes and is lovely for all occasions. And, like I said, good rosé can and should age for a year or two at least anyway...so stowe a couple bottles away and try them with your apres-ski session. If consumer demand begins to shift and rosé is seen less as a seasonal specialty and more as just another category of wine, shops will be able to stock it all-year-long. 

Rosé is always light and fruity

*WRONG* Some rosé is...but a lot is mineral, complex, savory, and rich. And FYI, it’s not always lower alcohol just because it tastes light and dry. It’ll still get you way more turnt up than expected if you wander into a carafe after a long day of hiking/biking/boating. Proceed with caution and drink responsibly, please. 

I feel awkward ordering rosé... it’s “for women.”

*SO WRONG*

Gender is a social construct, often exploited by corporations to sell products at a premium. Wine has LONG used perceptions of gender and sexuality to market itself. The first rosés widely marketed in the U.S. used images and branding to sell heavily to women and convince consumers that while men drink beer or liquor, women drink bubbly pink and sweet beverages. The history of wine (especially champagne) as associated with and exploitative of women’s bodies as objects of sexual attraction/glamour is well documented, especially in Kollen M. Guy’s excellent When Champagne Became French: Wine and the Making of a National Identity and this timely article from Punch. So, screw that noise, and drink pink. It’s delicious, and it’s for everyone

Got a question that wasn’t covered here? Drop a comment below and I promise to keep my replies more brief than this blog post.