There’s something about the first warm weekend of spring that makes you crave pink. Not salmon fillets or blushing peonies – though those help – but wine. Pale, cold, and unapologetically flirtatious. Rosé season marks the shift in mood. It’s not just a drink, it’s a sign: coats off, windows open, fridge stacked.
Some years I forget about it. I get swept up in winter reds or distracted by white Burgundy rabbit holes. But then rosé season hits and the memories pour back in – terrace lunches, poolside glasses, the smug clink of two chilled tumblers before 3pm. It’s less about the alcohol, more about the permission. Rosé is a soft rebellion. It says: you deserve to enjoy this.
Best Bottles for Rosé Season
Château La Mascaronne, Provence – I had this at a rooftop bar in Marseille. I remember the sea air and some terrible olives. The wine was whisper-pink, all wild strawberry and herb garden. Balanced, elegant, just enough grip to make you pause. It was the first time I realised rosé could be serious without losing its charm. More about Château La Mascaronne.
Mirabeau Pure – Yes, it’s a bit of an influencer darling, but honestly? It earns it. Clean, bright, peachy. Perfect when you don’t want to think too hard, but still want your glass to say, “I’ve got taste and a fridge that gets really cold.” Bonus points for the beautiful bottle that looks like skincare.
Tavel AOC, Rhône Valley – The rebel. Darker in colour, sturdier on the palate, and often ignored in favour of the paler Instagram stuff. But Tavel is a proper food wine. If you’re grilling lamb chops or eating anything with anchovies, this one’s got backbone and bite. Don’t serve it too cold – let it open up.
Minuty Prestige – This one feels like driving down the Côte d’Azur in a convertible (not that I’ve done that – yet). It’s classic Provence, but with more citrus zip. The bottle’s tall, the vibe is very Saint-Tropez, and it makes you want to book something on Airbnb immediately.
Why Rosé Season Still Matters
Rosé wines aren’t just about the grape – they’re about what you pair them with emotionally. It’s not an introspective wine. You don’t sip rosé and reflect on your flaws. You sip rosé and text your mates to see who’s got a garden. It’s a social creature, best enjoyed outside, with snacks, music, and maybe a bit of gossip.
I’ve also found it pairs exceptionally well with soft cheese, grilled vegetables, and long overdue catch-ups. And if you chill it just right – that magical sweet spot before condensation takes over – it tastes like possibility. Like maybe this year will be better than the last. Like maybe, you’ve still got it.
What I’m Drinking This Rosé Season
– Mirabeau Pure
– A dusty bottle of Tavel that I will 100% open when the next sunny Saturday hits
– A couple of Aldi’s Côtes de Provence (shockingly decent for the price)
– And a rogue fizz: Balfour’s rosé brut, for when someone brings strawberries and a good story
If rosé season crept up on you too, this is your sign to restock. Your mood deserves it. If you’re after food pairings or thinking of hosting a summer tasting, I’ve written more here.
