Rosé, olé

Nostrada Rosé, 2008. Tarragona, Spain.

Traveling is the best way to try new things. I had to journey all the way to Sweden to learn a thing or two about rosé, a hitherto unexplored type of wine for me. My dear friends Brad & Cecilia taught me that the best pairing for a hot summer's day is a glass of crisp, chilled rosé, preferably enjoyed with friends on a blanket in a Scandinavian park.

Yesterday I had no such blanket and no such park, just a hot-as-blazes Charleston day off that was unexpectedly ruined by throwing my back out in the early morning. Instead of running errands and shopping for sundresses to wear to the upcoming Pitchfork Festival, I had to lower myself carefully onto the floor and try to find a sweet spot where the excruciating pain couldn't find me. For hours. After a day of moping around, hot and in pain, I decided to give myself a little present: this bottle of Spanish rosé. (In point of fact I bought two.)

Contrary to the Franzia wielders belief, pink wine doesn't have to be sugary sweet and classless. This bottle was crisp and light, a refreshing cherry taste with a hint of spice. It greeted the spanakopita and tabbouleh I made for dinner like they were old friends. Having downed most of the bottle myself over the course of the evening (which by then had vastly improved from the day's events), I consider myself an expert. At $6.99 a bottle, this is the perfect summer treat. I'm so glad I bought a second one to share with friends at a cookout tonight.