Last spring my tasting group, the Ladies Tasting Society, held its monthly meeting in an unusual, desert locale: Palm Springs, California — on the occasion of the Dinah Shore Women’s Weekend, to be exact. The temperature was hot, the music fast, and the ladies lovely. But what, we wondered, should we drink poolside?

Never mind that most celebrants opeted for beer or cosmopolitans. We wanted to the world’s most delightful, oft-overlooked, and widely misunderstood wine: rosé.

Plus, it turns out that pink wines — and I mean real pink wines, that is, fermented dry and not made as an afterthought — aren’t just for quenching your thirst in hot climes. Because of their lightness, fruitiness, and palate-cleansing acidity, rosés are a surprisingly great pairing choice for another big party: the traditional Thanksgiving dinner.

But how do you know if it’s “real” rosé? For the answer, click here for more:

By rosé, I do not mean what most Americans think of as rosé, the sweet, blush stuff called white zinfandel. Nor do I mean (and I date myself here) that cloying nectar called Lancers that gave the ladies headaches when we were in college. I mean the crisp, refreshing liquid styled onthe delicious rosés of France, the wines that prevent the entire population around the Mediterranean, especially in Provence, from ginding to a total halt during the glare of July and August. With flirty aromas of strawberry and flowers, and flavors of citrus and green tea, genuine rosé is happily becoming easier to find in gourmet grocery stores and good wine shops.

Real rosé is made intentionally, unlike white zinfandel, which, interestingly, was discovered by accident when a winemaker in Napa tried to make white wine from zin grapes, which are red. For real rosé, the winemaker will start out making red wine, but will let the grape skins come into contact only briefly with the pressings, and then ferment the juice until there is no more residual sugar. The result is light, cooling, and food-friendly.

I can’t say that rosé is a particularly serious wine. You will want to drink it fresh, from the most recent vintage available. (In the case of this holiday season, look for the 2005’s.) But it is easy on your wallet (another great reason it’s great for a well-populated Thanksgiving feast) and perfect for an informal gathering, whether it’s around a turkey in the fall, or a pool in June.

Another caveat: don’t worry about knowing the grape varieties that go into a real rosé, especially if it’s French. They’re all weird, unpronounceable types that hail from the Rhone region. (For you geeks, they’re grenache, cinsault, mourvedre, and maybe a little syrah. Even if your real rosé comes from the New World, usually the winemaker will go for these native French varieties.) All you need to worry about is that the wine is pink and comes from France or Spain — or is modeled on rosé from those countries.

The ladies tasted four rose wines that spring day and came to a surprising conclusion: although we loved the French examples, our favorite came from California, especially when we paired it with some good pool snacks like pretzels and fresh fruit. Sometimes it’s true: imitation is the highest form of fermentation.

TASTING NOTES
Rosé, Not Passé

(Since the Ladies Tasting Society tasted these wines a while back, use the tasting notes below as a general guide, and do try to buy the most recent vintage, which for now would be 2005. And don’t be put off by the middling grades; these wines are meant to be inexpensive, simple — delicious but not particularly serious.)

Bonny Doon, Vin Gris de Cigare, Pink Wine (California) 2004, $11
Surprise! This rosé is named after the cigares volantes (literally, “flying cigars,” what the French call UFOs) that are actually banned by law from landing in the vineyards of Chateauneuf du Papes. It’s clean, light, but with the big requisite flavors of strawberry, tea, and pink grapefruit. This Californian knockoff is the real thing.

Verasol, Campo de Borgas Grenache Rosé (Spain) 2004, $7
Darker pink, but still light and cooling. A big nose of strawberry preserves and flowers. Dancey, with lots of fruit on the tongue. The ladies purchased this on sale, so the regular price might be a big higher.

Chateau La Roque, Coteaux de Languedoc Rosé (France) 2003, $14
Forward aromas of blood orange and raspberry. Good fruit tastes on the palate and a slight, pleasant taste of minerals. Rosés should be fresh, so perhaps this didn’t perform well because it was, for rosé, and older vintage.

La Vieille Ferme, Costieres de Nimes Rosé (France) 2003, $6
Still more rosy thatn the Bonny Doon, but with a closed-up nose and a woody, corky flavor. We guessed that the fruit had faded. Try the 2005 release.