What was the original offense that led every damned consumer to believe — unswervingly — that all darker-hued rosés are sweet?

It’s like some unwritten law. Among the pallets of rosé that do sell, it’s always the same thing … it’s gotta be pale.

I’ve quizzed customers on details about darker rosé’s Fall from Grace. What exactly was this first ‘sweet, dark’ rosé they found?  ‘I don’t know … I just find that darker rosés are too sweet’ is as far as our conversation gets, before the customer sprints to the register with a pale Provençal rosé.

Was it Sutter Home or Beringer White Zinfandel? Did some grandma pass every one of my customers aged 18-40 a glass of old, warm Beringer White Zin from a bottle sitting on her kitchen counter since before Obama?

White Zinfandel alone cannot explain this.

Are we in the same loose linguistic territory as Riesling — you say you object to sweet, but you actually mean fruity? And, if so, decoding your impoverished language further (it’s not your fault;  I know) what exactly was the unpleasant fruity rosé aroma?

I can make a conjecture. To a certain extent, I can relate to objections to rosé. And maybe even the sweetness bullshit.

WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE WANT, ANYWAY? (Click to Read more)