Rosé Wine Should Not Be So Sweet

When I became a young adult, I thought, “Hey, I should drink wine. It’s ancient. The Romans loved it. It’s used in religious rites.” I began, on the advice of others, with rosés. I didn’t know anything about wine, and it was nice. As I learned more, and tasted more, and discussed wine with others, I began to think that rosés were way too sweet. I eschewed them for Cabs, Merlots, Champagne, and Rhein whites.

Fast forward many decades. Last weekend, after a week sabbatical finishing up The Sky Above Chaos, I visited some Paso Robles wineries. Eberle Winery was first, and for a small fee, we could choose five wines out of their list of ten or so. But the man behind the counter said they were not really concerned with just five, because they were sure most people would buy some wine after tasting. When I turned up my nose at the Rosé, he said this:

“You need to try this. Long ago, rosés were not sweet, they were drier than you are used to. Then a large, mass-producing winery (who shall remain nameless) began producing super-sweet rosés, and everyone thought that was what rosés we’re like”.

I tasted it. Delightful. Fresh with only a hint of sweetness. I could imagine drinking it on a warm late afternoon sitting in the sun, after a day of editing. Relaxing. Perky.

Why did no one tell me this earlier?

By the way, the name of their rosé is Côtes-du-Rôbles Rosé. Clever. I like clever. And French.