Recently, I cracked open a bottle of “value” Sauvignon Blanc from Chile. Frankly, for under $10, it’s a good wine. There’s a little asparagus, some herbs, a touch of earthiness, suggestive citrus— but after my initial taste, I was disappointed.
“Awww… I should’ve spent the extra money on [x brand] from New Zealand.” My despair continued: “The finish is too short… I want more vibrant acidity and some prominent star fruit flavors.” (In one of those moods I suppose…).
However, my thoughts suddenly drifted to the night before, where I shared a bottle of Sangiovese “rosato” (aka. rosé) from Marche, Italy. This is also a wine that would retail for approximately $10. I’d say its redeeming quality was the fact it was organic—but never mind that, it was as satisfying as can be. Why? Well, because it drank like juice. It was fruity, fun and went down easy—not to mention, it was as pink as pink comes = great extraction!
Now, imho this Italian rosé is a wine I’d gladly share with friends again and again. However, was it a complex wine? Certainly not…. As for that “value” Chilean Sauvignon Blanc—I’d be embarrassed to present this bottle to any wine enthusiast; yet, its degree of complexity would easily rival the aforementioned rosato.
This leads me to believe that we simply don’t place the highest of expectations on our rosé wines (aka. “the pink stuff”). At the end of the day, I drink pink because I’m looking for something refreshing, fruity and easy-drinking. Were I to drink a white or red wine after someone told me it “drinks like juice”, I’d probably stay away. However, to have a rosé that is guzzle-friendly and looks pretty to boot, I’d be all for it.