In my freshman year in college, I lived on a hallway with a group of
women my roommate and called “The Blenders.” The nickname was born of
the fact that after victories big and small, these gals liked to
celebrate by making blended drinks. “Weee’re bleennndinggggg!!!!!!”
went the siren call signifying that the celebratory ritual was about to
begin. Sure, we felt superior, as we hid in our tiny room reading Beat
poetry. But there was certainly no shortage of things to mock about me
and my cadre of nonblenders — choking our way through clove
cigarettes and our belief that Malibu rum straight from the bottle was
somehow more sophisticated than an 80-proof piña colada come to
mind.
I was reminded of my juvenile disdain for the blenders in recent
weeks, when the European Union submitted a proposal allowing wine
producers to blend red and white wines together (a process that’s
currently banned in Europe, with a few exceptions) and call the
resulting wine rosé. The wine now bearing the name
rosé in Europe is usually made through a maceration process
involving curtailed contact between the crushed skins of red grapes and
their juice — limiting the depth of color achieved and the
alcohol content. As word of the new labeling proposal spread, you could
almost hear the Brits raise their Spice-Girlishly innocent cry of
“Weee’re bleennndinggggg!!!!!!” France’s grumbling response was far
more audible, and an EU vote on the measure in June will reveal whether
the French government’s efforts to block the proposal have been
successful. It’s all just so … American, they’re probably be
thinking — because here the blending of reds and whites to make
what we call rosé is commonplace. But let’s admit it: The East
Bay is not America, and winemakers here tend to fall in line with the
French far more than they do with mass-market practices.
Take Berkeley’s A Donkey and Goat Winery and its 2008 Isabel’s
Cuvée Grenache Rosé ($16), which is made through a
labor-intensive maceration process from Grenache Gris grapes grown in
Mendocino County’s McDowell Valley. This crisp, dry, salmon-colored
wine has a strong strawberry bouquet, with more berry on the palate
along with some citrus and melon. As with last year’s vintage, Token
Winemaker noted something “animal” in the aroma, along with a little
prickly pear. He complained about the heat, and at 14 percent alcohol
the Isabel’s Cuvée is a bit more alcoholic than most
rosés. But to me that just established it more firmly as a
cocktail wine. Definitely celebration-worthy, and nary a blender in
sight.
If you’re aiming for a lower price point, try Abel Clement’s
Côtes du Rhône Rosé ($8.99) — a dry pink
that’s earning as many raves as the impressive red-and-white blends
made by a French cooperative whose wines have never failed us.
