She was a vision. Graceful, dusky, elegant in a way that is paradoxically only found in expatriates of hardy Baltic states with questionable international recognition. I am, it must be said, spoken for (and happily so), but if my significant other didn’t want me looking at other women, she chose the wrong place to drag me to. Motioning to my compatriot, I need only lean in her general direction to see his recognition blossom. We both watched, kind of creepily, as she leaned against the bar and ordered what seemed to my eyes a rosé. “Non, non,” she said to the barman. “With ice.” To me, in that moment, all pretensions toward elegance dropped. She had chosen a style of drink that called to my mind husky, fanny-packed soccer moms, women named Tiffany, enthusiastic members of homeowners associations. My friend, infinitely more well-traveled than I, only smirked when I waxed unpoetical on my dearth of desire. “Don’t you know anything?” he asked in a tone that could only grate. “That’s how they do it over there.” Much to my chagrin, that know-it-all ne’erdo- well and sometimes cantina companion was precisely correct. Though for unknown reasons considered gauche in the U.S., it is proper, and in fact sometimes preferable, to add ice to one’s wine, especially select rosé’s and whites that are crafted with that purpose in mind. New brands such as Moët Ice, Imperial Rosé NV and recently released Rosé Piscine are all reputable vintages that are enhanced by the addition of two to three lumps of refreshing cubes. Such adulteration not only dims the flavor profile, making it a more suitable partner to light snacks and lunches, but allows you to enjoy in that sometimes seemingly Miami enterprise, the day drink, without fear that you’ll overindulge and wind up done for the night before sunset. And remember, at the end of the day, it’s your glass; if other people don’t like the way you drink it, they can get their own.
Not quite red. Not quite white. Enthusiastically enjoyed mostly by the refined European jetset and Top 40 rappers. Perhaps the most paradoxical of potable vintages, what precisely is Rosé? Lacking the extended maceration and harder pressing of a more tannic red, Rosé retains the pigment of the grape without losing the light fruitiness that has made it a top tipple for those unfazed by stronger bottles. Considered by historians to be the most ancient of wines developed, when the philosophers of yore waxed poetic on finding truth in wine, it was most likely Rosé they were talking about.