All the rain really fucked up the wet season, didn't it? Normally those first couple of months of the year, January especially, are like my annual drinking holiday. (Which is why come February I'm always a couple of kilos heavier, and in March I'm paying for it at the gym).
I scored a great gig this summer just past when a box of premium dry Rosé wines dropped on my front steps with instructions to 'enjoy'.
I've always been a fan of rosé as a summer drink. The heavy reds are impossible to get down your gullet after the mecury tops 30 plus and even some of the bigger fuck off whites, the chardys especially, can be too heavy to contemplate when you're faced with the usual groaning holiday buffet.
So yeah, I enjoyed. I've been meaning to blog about my faves all summer but wanted to wait until I moved into my new digs here. Below are six the best.
Some of them I'm very familiar with. The Rogers and Rufus is a fave and I tend to have a couple of bottles lying around any time after September. R&R are a coupla mad surfers and fishermen in their spare time (reminding me of a great sig file I used to see all the time when I haunted alt.surfing: I've surfed most of my life. The rest of my time I just sort of wasted). This wine's a dusty dry motherfucker, almost peppery to the tongue, but not rowdy with it. If you're the sort of reckless fool who likes his spanner crab flash fried in a wok and burning with chili, these are the boys to put out the fire for you.
The complete unknown for me, and a new best friend, was the Great Southern from Plantagenet Omrah. It's the darker looking one on the far left. It's a blend of temprenillo and shiraz grapes from WA and it is ay-fucking-mazeballz. I loved this fucking wine and sort of wished they'd just sent me half a dozen of it alone. I'd have been happy. Dry like all the others, with none of the sickly sweet fruity bullshit that defines a lot of truck stop rosé. The fruit's not missing in action. It's still there in hints of cherry and strawberry and shit, but even if you necked the whole bottle yourself, it'd never be too sweet. Not that I would. Oh no. Heaven forfend.
The others? All fab. Not a dud amongst them. The La Croix is a fave with the ladies because... well, the bottle, just look at that thing. That's a work of fucking art that is. And the wine is one of the quiet imports that've been turning up since the Aussie dollar decided to go into orbit and make drinking the French gear a lot more affordable for everyone. As you'd expect from an old French vinyard (est 1882) it's all fucking silky and sophisticumated. And it makes a great water bottle when you're done.