Confession: I used to think rosé was cheap wine that ‘real wine drinkers’ (whatever that means) would never dare let pass their lips. I even admonished a fellow diner once, turning up my nose when she didn’t follow the pack and order a glass of cabernet like the rest of us. As I began to embrace food and wine, I opened myself up to learn as much as I possibly could and it quickly became clear that I had been desperately wrong about the rosé wine I had once snubbed. Embarrassed, I wouldn’t dare confess my faux pas. So much so that, when Z and I traveled to Provence in the South of France, the HEART of rosé country, we didn’t have one-single-sip. For those of you screaming at the computer right now, feel free to pelt wine corks from beautiful bottles of antique-orange rosé at my head – I deserve it. I left Provence, regretful that I allowed my ignorance to get the better of me. Thankfully, wine is very forgiving and, with each tentative sip, I have found myself reemerging into the good-graces of this wine, which has been long plagued by false-assumptions. Rosé finds itself at the wonderful intersection of white and red, adopting the finest characteristics from both families. Red grapes are primarily used when creating rosé, but the deeply-purple skins are given very little time with the juice, generally less than three days. This contact, or lack-thereof, is what gives us the beautiful rainbow of pink-orange-rust hughes. Served chilled, you have all the refreshing qualities of a white wine with the rich notes of a red. Wondering what to serve at your next cookout? Rosé of course! It goes with nearly everything. The light, almost tart flavors compliment fish and chicken, while the acid cuts right through ribeyes marbled with fat. On this particular weekend evening, I shared a bottle of Mas de Gorgonnier on the patio with my mom. We marveled over the green apple notes backed by fresh berries. The dry, citrusy finish cleansed our palates, leaving us refreshed and comfortable in the summer heat. I raised my glass and offered a silent toast and apology to rosé wine. I was wrong. Thank goodness I stand corrected.
I spy Nick McClave, official Sous Chef of the Foodie-Girl kitchen