The Wine Myth Keeping Men From The Perfect Summer Drink

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The great virtue of summer is that it reminds us not all pleasures must be serious to be worthwhile. This is as true of the wines we drink as it is of anything else. Nobody sitting on a dock or a deck in 90-degree heat wants a drink that tastes of leather, dried fruit, or anything resembling solemnity. Summer, and the celebrations that come with it, demand something brisk, cold, and cheerful — a style of wine that works on a patio, at a barbecue, by a lake, or in the backyard while somebody burns a bun and insists it is merely “charred.” Which brings us, naturally, to rosé.

Rosé has always mystified wine novices. What exactly is it? It evidently isn’t red wine, but its blushing color also precludes it from the white wine camp. Where does it come from? How is it made? What are we supposed to do with it? And can it be paired with food, or is it just a decorative prop for people in linen and loafers?

Rosé is often treated as the swing voter of the wine world: too centrist to commit, neither properly red nor properly white. It has also suffered from the cultural reputation of athleisure wear — too casual for formal respect, and yet somehow everywhere. And for a man, it can take profound confidence to order a glass of rosé on a date. But rosé is actually excellent precisely because of these ambiguities. It comes in a range of styles, from featherweight and delicate to deeper and more robust, and it can pair with far more than people think. Its problem is not that it lacks character; it is that most people have only met one version of it.

Broadly speaking, there are four ways to make this mystical pink nectar. The most famous style comes from Provence in southern France, where rosé is usually made by gently pressing (called direct press) red grapes and allowing only very brief contact with the skins. Grenache is the star grape here, valued for its ability to thrive in the heat of the Mediterranean. Oddly enough, despite being a warm-climate grape, Grenache has relatively thin skins — a rare eccentricity in the wine world where hot-weather grapes are usually built like linebackers. That quirk helps make Provence rosé so distinctive: pale in color, high in acidity, and delicate in flavor, with notes of red berries, flowers, and perfume. This is the classic, pink patio rosé, available in bulk from such producers as Whispering Angel and ideal alongside grilled seafood, salads, and vegetables, or anything else light enough not to bulldoze the wine.

If that style feels a little too elegant, restrained, and faintly smug — effectively too French — then northern Spain offers a sturdier alternative. In Navarra, rosé is often made by short maceration, which means the crushed grapes spend more time in contact with their skins before the juice is drawn off. The longer the contact, the deeper the colour and the more flavor is extracted. Navarra is also home to plenty of Garnacha, which is simply Spain’s name for Grenache, because the wine world enjoys having multiple names for the same thing whenever possible. These rosés tend to be darker, fuller, and more assertive, with pronounced strawberry and raspberry fruit, but still enough acidity to stay fresh in the heat. They are excellent with pizza, lighter pastas, and even barbecued proteins like chicken.

A third method, less familiar to casual drinkers, is the saignée method — French for “bleeding.” It should not surprise us that the culture that gave us the guillotine also came up with such a dramatic winemaking term. The method traces back to winemakers who wanted to concentrate their red wines. By bleeding off some of the pale juice early, they increased the skin-to-juice ratio in the remaining tank, thereby intensifying the red wine. At some point, presumably after a long lunch and several glasses of something strong, somebody realized the bled-off juice was rather tasty in its own right and decided to bottle it. The result is a darker, weightier rosé that can sometimes feel like a halfway house between traditional pale rosé and a light red. Tavel, in France’s southern Rhône Valley, is the classic example.

And finally, there is the method most people assume is how all rosé is made: by blending red and white wine together. In still wine, this is generally frowned upon, as it usually produces a less refined result, lacking the nuance of skin contact and often pairing red tannin awkwardly with delicate white wine. In Champagne, however, it is perfectly acceptable and indeed traditional. There, a little red Pinot Noir can be blended into a white base wine, often made from chardonnay, to produce rosé Champagne. For a far better bargain, you can also find this sparkling rosé method replicated worldwide and sold for a fraction of the price wherever it is not labeled “Champagne.”

Still, if “rosé all day” is not your mantra, summer drinking does not begin and end with pink wine. There are plenty of other bottles that perform beautifully in warm weather.

One of the most underrated is biologically aged sherry, especially Fino and Manzanilla. These bone-dry fortified wines from southern Spain are aged under a layer of yeast called flor, which protects the wine from oxygen and gives it its distinct flavor: saline, almondy, savoury, and briskly refreshing. Sherry has a branding problem because the word still makes many people think of something sickly sweet, dusty, and forgotten in a cupboard or corner of their elderly grandmother’s refrigerator (these are cream sherries and are an entirely different style). But a chilled glass of Fino or Manzanilla with olives, salted almonds, or seafood on a hot afternoon is one of the great pleasures of life.

Then there is Albariño from Rías Baixas in Spain’s cooler and damper northwest. This is one of my favourite summer whites. It is aromatic, high in acidity, and often carrying flavors of citrus, peach, and a faint saline note redolent of its maritime roots on the Atlantic. It is crisp and flavourful without being heavy, and agreeable enough to win over most people who claim they “don’t really like white wine,” which is usually a symptom of having been served bad chardonnay at a relative’s wedding.

And if your idea of summer wine is decidedly not pink or white, consider Lambrusco, the sparkling red wine of northern Italy. Served chilled, it is fresh, fizzy, juicy, and a source of immense joy at the table. Some versions have a touch of residual sugar, others are fully dry, but the best examples combine bright berry fruit, lively acidity, and enough sparkle to make them dangerously easy to drink. It is surprisingly well suited to burgers, sausages, cured meats, and all the salty, smoky foods that contrast with its spry expression.

Summer wine is less a strict category than a broad style for a specific time and place. You want freshness, energy, and sufficient acidity to feel at ease in the sultry heat. Rosé happens to excel at that, but it is hardly alone. Whether your penchants lie with Provençal pinks, Spanish whites, salty sherries, or fizzy Italian reds, the season offers no shortage of good options.

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Harry Khachatrian (@Harry1T6) is a film critic for the Washington Examiner. He is a software engineer, holds a master’s degree from the University of Toronto, and writes about wine at BetweenBottles.com.