Comfort Wine - My Unashamed Love of Rosé Spritzers
Like a pair of old slippers but not to be sniffed at
Since my last more ‘casual’ update, I’ve had so much going on that I hardly know where to start.
I’ve had old friends visit, I’ve helped to ferry my father around after knee surgery, and my dog had nine (yes nine!) puppies. What’s more, as I write this, I am in the waiting room of a very efficient French hospital whilst my husband has emergency surgery after slicing his hand sweeping with a metal broom that wasn’t up to the task. And through it all, I’ve managed to keep on top of work, continue to renovate our house and learn French, and not starve to death or drink myself into a numbing stupor
The reality is, when life is this busy and chaotic, I tend to gravitate toward ‘comfort wines’ rather than anything new or exciting. I recently learnt that this is reasonably well documented cultural phenomenon in China – in times of economic uncertainty, they revert to more traditional practices and purchased. It’s been argued that this phenomenon might even explain China’s retracting wine market, as fear and uncertainty nudge consumers back to Báijiǔ over western imported wine.
I digress. (Although wish I known this nugget for my Master of Wine exams in June.)
After a stressful and hectic day, the first glass of wine I often turn to in the South of France is a rosé spritzer. And yes, to add fuel to a fire of fury around ice in wine in the media at the moment, it’s full of ice too. In fact, it’s about 30% Badoit sparkling water (salty ones not recommended), 30% rosé and 30% ice.
Don’t judge me!
I am not using top quality rosé. And I am not advocating it to be a drink worth writing about with any serious judgement or assessment. But I am also not embarrassed to write about it all the same.
There’s something that grounds me with a rosé spritz.
It’s an aperitif my mother has drunk for decades, and is, in fact, the only wine-based-beverage (other than Champagne, of course) that will pass my mother-in-law’s lips. Even at Christmas. It has just the right amount water to hydrate me, but the right amount of flavour to satiate me. If I gulp it back quickly and ferociously, I won’t feel guilty about the alcohol. And if I decide that actually, sleep is beckoning me harder than I thought, I won’t feel guilty about leaving it either.
A rosé spritz after a hard day is, to me, like eating Heinz Beef Ravioli when I am ill. Or watching Agatha Christie’s Poirot when I am hungover. It may not be highbrow, it may not be something to shout about but I think it’s these little habits we have that make us human. Thank GOODNESS I have it by the litre in France.
Other comfort wines for me
My other two ‘comfort wines’ are still those that I know well, and that I return to time and time again. These are rich, oaked Chardonnays that taste like vanilla and peaches. Or a fruity, silky Grenache that smells like fruitcake.
I’ve put two of my favourites below if you’re interested in trying them, but I suspect everyone has a different ‘comfort wine’.
Wirra Wirra’s 12th Man Chardonnay
This is the definition of comfort wine for me. Indulgent and rich, soft and supply but it’s not got that sickly sweet character that means you can only stomach one glass. There is a lovely natural tension in the wine that means I often reach straight for a refill and feel immediately soothed. It’s not an every day priced wine, but it’s definitely a ‘Friday evening after a long week’ price for me.
Available at The Wine Society for £16.50
Guigal Côtes du Rhône
I could have picked one of tens of wines from the Côtes du Rhône for my red comfort wine. But it made sense to pick one readily available, easy to pick up at your local supermarket after a rubbish Tuesday, but also high quality - and this is it for me.
It’s really the variety Grenache that I feel most comforted by and I’m just lucky enough that some of the best in the world is grown on my doorstop. I must write a post on Grenache…
Available at Waitrose for £13.49
Available at the Wine Society for £11.50
OR a very handy half bottle at The Wine Society for £6.25 which screams ‘break in case of emergency Tuesday’ for me!