JP Brun 2015 Beaujolais Rosé “Le Rosé d’Folie” (Beaujolais) — Frozen raspberry sorbet with a sun-toned patina. (5/16)
rosé
Mignonette
Christophe Mignon Champagne Brut Rosé (Champagne) — Disgorged 26 February 2013, dosage somewhere under 8 g/l. Gentle fluffs of drifting fruit-lint. There’s a bit of nerve here, but you have to search to find it. The first bottle I opened, right after receiving a half-case, was better, and so based on this performance I’m going to let the balance rest for a while. (5/16)
Turn it up
Amplify 2013 Carignane Rosé Camp 4 (Santa Ynez Valley) — Funky and reluctant at first, but it grows into its awkwardness. While it’s a (very light) rosé of a red grape, if you told me it was an orange vermentino I’d not have blinked; there’s a sort of heavy-air salinity to it that makes it feel coastal, even if it’s anything but. A nice wine that deserves more exploration than I gave it. (4/16)
Go froth & conquer
The “moment” arrived about ten years ago. Perhaps earlier? Memory’s forever bent by the convex lens of so very many wine glasses. Nor do I remember where, or who…though I have some guesses. I do remember what, though. It was Lini, and as expected it came in red…but it also came in pink, and white. The rosso was disruptive and I wasn’t yet prepared to understand it, the rosato was pleasant enough, but it was the bianco that grappled with my attention.
“Lambrusco comes in white?”
In theory, I’d known this. I’d read the texts, eyes flickering over the allowed expressions in the hilarious anarchy of Italy’s DOCs. Mostly, aside from a very small handful of internationally famous appellations with vaguely restrictive codes (regulations that would be impossible for any self-respecting Italian winemaker to ignore), the “laws” seemed to be the same everywhere. Make it white, pink, red, sparkling, dry, sweet, fortified, aromatized, or really whatever you feel like doing…
But still. “Lambrusco comes in white?”
I drank a lot of that white, over the next few years. As a by-the-glass pour it metastasized all over Boston, where I lived and wrote back then. Why not? It was delicious, and — perhaps more importantly, on the commercial side — it was inexpensive. I occasionally dabbled in the rosato. But the rosso…the rosso…
There lay the actual struggle, even though I didn’t realize it at the time.
Long-playing
Laurent-Perrier Champagne Brut Cuvée Rosé (Champagne) – Pink, and tastes of it. Sharp, fruity, clean, soon dead. Next. (11/12)
d’folie of youth
JP Brun 2011 Beaujolas Rosé “Rosé d’folie” (Beaujolais) – Candied redfruit, both crisp and gummy. It’s prettier than that, and more floral, but it’s not the best example of this wine I’ve tasted. Possibly slightly heat-tinged? There are no obvious signs, yet the freshness that usually accompanies the wine is lacking here. (8/12)
Jougla the handle
Domaine des Jougla 2011 Saint-Chinian Rosé “Initiale” (Languedoc) – Restrained and a bit tremble-y, yet with a sticky pedal tone of strawberry that doesn’t really mesh with the rest. While this lacks the usual southern French rosé balance issues, it’s just kinda…there. Pretty but ultimately insubstantial. Others with trustworthy palates have seen more from this house, so I await a second try for confirmation. (8/12)
Donjonson
Panis “Chateau du Donjon” 2011 Minervois Rosé (Languedoc) – Heavy. Lurid. Tastes neon-magenta, if I can introduce some synæsthesia all up in this joint. (This bit of age-inappropriate verbiage brought to you by having just read Whitney Adams’ blog.) Alas, it’s a chore to drink. (7/12)
Cassagne on the dotted line
Domaine de la Petite Cassagne 2010 Costières de Nîmes Rosé (Rhône) – Throaty pinkness, berries in the midst of their crush, and lavender-scented herbs in fine balance. Surprisingly nice. (7/12)