Something dangerous happened to me last night after I unscrewed a bottle of the handsome-looking Pasquiers pinkie…
I closed my eyes for a nanosecond, then opened them again – only to find that the bottle on the left had magically turned into the bottle on the right. The pink stuff inside had completely disappeared.
I wondered if the spooky world of physics was exerting its weighty influences. Had a black hole spontaneously appeared in my kitchen and snatched the grog?
But no, the truth was more straightforward. The missing pink stuff had simply been too darned delicious. It’s a pale pinkie from the Languedoc, made by the good folk at Boutinot from 2 southern French grapes – Grenache and Cinsault.
The colour is gorgeous – conjuring up images of speckly Provencal sunsets, the cicadas rattling away in the background, the barbie warming up nicely. On the nose and in the gob, it hits the perfect balance of being dry and refreshing, yet with subtle hints of red fruits. It’s Provencal in style, but miles better than virtually any Provencal rose I’ve tried (which are generally over-rated, in my humble). It’s cheap as chips, too.
Great as an apero of course, but would also be spot on with all sorts of Asian-influenced grub – in fact, it’s so versatile, you could knock it back with most things.
Like I said, dangerous…