He belongs to that wine rosé

Some of my friends have no use for rosé. I feel sorry for them, even though that means more of the pink stuff for me. And it’s not so much that they’re missing out but that I fear they’re being just a wee bit close-minded.

Today’s rosés are made in so many styles, from so many grapes, that proclaiming blanket disapproval of them is like saying you don’t like any domestic red wines. At recent trade tastings, and at Sunday’s fabulous event at Solo Vino, I have enjoyed a seriously diverse array of pink wines. We are a loooong way from Mateus Land, folks.

Among the rosés showing really well yesterday: a dusty but clean monastrell from Spain (Numero 3, $13); a lusty, lush syrah from Washington (Charles & Charles, $14); a wonderful grape-y Pratsch from four Austrian grapes (Pratsch, $14); a sexy, tingly pinot noir from Germany (Von Buhl, $21), and a pair of ripe but zingy garnachas from Spain (Ochoa, $15; Dominio de Tharsys Cava, $14).

Of course there were some lovely offerings from rosé’s epicenter, Tavel: a summery Chateau de Trinquevedel ($19), the very berry Lafond ($20) and a simply yummy Domaine des Carteresses ($17).

And I got to reacquaint myself with two perennially fabulous offerings of my very favorites, Randall Grahm’s firm and focused Bonny Doon Vin Gris de Cigare ($19) and Provence’s radiant Commanderie de la Bargemone ($19).

Like snowflakes (or domestic reds), no two of these wines were remotely alike.

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