World of Wine | Summertime is Rosé Time

BY MIRA HONEYCUTT

WORLD OF WINE

Summertime is Rosé Time

Rosé all day! The popular phrase couldn’t be more appropriate than on a hot summer day. The quintessential wine from France’s Provence region, known as the epicenter of the pinkhued rosé, has in recent years become all the rage in the US.

So, what’s a rosé wine?

It’s not a blend of red wine and white wine. Rosé wines are made from blue/black grapes that produce red wines. And rosé is not a blush wine, which is indeed made by blending red and white wine. However, in France’s Champagne region, most of the rosé wine is made with a small amount of red wine added to the champagne for the pink color. This is the only French wine blend that can be called a rosé and is allowed only in the Champagne region.

Traditionally, rosé was a by-product of red wine production. Known as saignée (French for bleeding), the process involves draining or “bleeding” off a portion of juice from a tank of red wine grapes. The “bled-off” juice is fermented as rosé leaving the rest of the juice for a concentrated red wine. Here Rosé becomes a by-product of red wine.

Steve Martell, owner/winemaker at Kaleidos Wine in Paso Robles’ Tin City, is among the few in the Paso wine region to apply the saignée approach for his salmon-tinted 2021 rosé effusive with white peach notes.

“I primarily use this technique with grenache, which is generally a lighter color with less tannin than other Rhone varieties such as syrah,” Martell explained.

The 10 percent of drained pink juice leaves a more concentrated red wine from the grenache grapes. Although the saignée is still used by a few winemakers, the now popular “maceration” method is taking over, where rosé is the goal, not a by-product. Grapes for intentional rosé wine production are harvested early and as in red wine production, the juice of the grapes sits in contact with the skins from several hours to a few days until the juice turns the shade of pink desired by the winemaker and has enough time to extract some of the phenols, pigments, and tannins. The pink juice is then drained and transferred to tanks for fermentation.

Guillaume Fabre, owner/winemaker at Clos Solène, prefers the maceration method, picking grapes early at his 18-acre vineyard in the Willow Creek District on Paso Robles’ westside. The early picking, noted Fabre, can result in some grapes that are still green and others ripe.

“That’s the beauty of rosé,” he said.

A lively wine with crisp acidity, the Clos Solene 2021 La Rosé is a blend of grenache, mourvèdre, cinsault and syrah. The wine has such a pale onion-skin color that it could be mistaken for white wine.

Chris Cameron, director of winemaking at Paso Robles’ Broken Earth Winery, uses a different approach, what he calls a hybrid method. Cameron harvests the grenache early for rosé, the fruit is de-stemmed and crushed to a red wine fermentor.

“I start the ferment and monitor color pickup over the first 24-36 hours. I then run the juice off skins and complete both ferments.” So, Cameron ends up with two styles of wines: a varietal red grenache wine and a rosé of grenache.

Rosé wines are typically made from grapes native to France’s southern Rhône region, varieties such as grenache, syrah, mourvèdre and cinsault. But here on the Central Coast, winemakers craft brilliant rosés from Bordeaux varieties like cabernet sauvignon, cabernet franc, merlot, and malbec as well as other popular red wine grapes such as zinfandel, tempranillo, pinot noir, and sangiovese. Many of these varieties can also be blended to produce a rosé.

Ranging from palest of pinks to salmon and deephued shades of raspberry, rosés are crisp on the palate and redolent of flavors such as watermelon, rose petals, melon and strawberry. Rosé is best served cold at a temperature of 50 to 60 degrees Fahrenheit.

Because of its fresh and fruity profile, rosé wine is best enjoyed young. However, deep-hued rosés from Provence’s Bandol region produced from mourvèdre are noted for their age-ability.

The versatility of rosé allows it to pair well with salads, seafood and grilled poultry and meats. So, this summer for a poolside picnic or a barbecue reach for a refreshing rosé. 

PINNACLE ADVENTURES

Scanning the Skies Above Condor Gulch

BY CHUCK GRAHAM

Nothing screams Pleistocene Epoch like an endangered California condor. Thermal updrafts were already swirling upward within the Condor Gulch Trail at Pinnacles National Park, the weathered volcanic crags and spires ideal habitat for North America’s largest flying land bird.

From the moment I reached the trailhead, there were squadrons of opportunistic scavengers dotting cloudless skies. The cleaners of the forest were circling and soaring way overhead, those raptors’ superhero-like vision seeking carrion concealed in the dense, parched chaparral surrounding this unique landscape that became a national park in 2013.

At first, it was a little difficult to decipher which vultures were which, but as I walked the well-maintained route, it became increasingly clear what was what as I traversed into the high peaks. For one, the wingspan of a turkey vulture doesn’t measure up to the nearly 10-foot-wide wingspan of the California condor. And when turkey vultures fly/soar, they tip back and forth. A condor never does. After a few flaps of its massive wings, condors hold steady as they soar like a hang glider.

High Peaks Biome

Once I plateaued the narrow ridge and rounded behind the high peaks, I crossed paths with a biologist using telemetry to monitor the condors within the region. Each condor is fitted with a numbered wing tag and global positioning system (GPS). I saw 8 to 10 condors throughout the day, but she said there were more throughout the national park.

“Many of the birds fly back and forth between Pinnacles and the Big Sur Coast,” she said, as she gradually waved the antennae, picking up beeps, some strong, others faint. “There are some birds that visit the refuges south at Bitter Creek and Hopper Mountain.”

I also learned there were at least three active condor nests hidden throughout Pinnacles. The craggy spires stand out in the chaparral-choked Gabilan Mountains. The range is located on the eastern fringe of Central California’s Salinas Valley. The volcanic uplift is a remnant of an ancient volcanic field. It’s one of the many geological features of the San Andreas Fault Zone.

All the forces of nature have been in place for millions of years, affecting the unique topography of Pinnacles National Park. Heat, wind, frost, and water have all played their part in its creation. Water is the most active ingredient today, continuing to carve out its cracks, gorges, caves, and spires, prime habitat for the California condors, which were first released here at Pinnacles in 2011.

Thermal Rise

After gazing across several overlooks, hiking portions of the shaded ridge, and exposed crags, I found a lichen-covered lookout with epic views of the High Peaks Trail down to Bear Gulch and its shimmering reservoir.

A cool breeze wafted skyward, and taking advantage of its updraft was a mature, green-tagged condor known as #26, its pumpkin-colored head distinct against the brushy chaparral backdrop below. I scrambled out with my camera onto a narrow precipice as the condor circled just below me several times.

Another physical characteristic I love about condors as they are flying is when their wingspan is wide open, their wingtips appear as long, dark fingers. The velvety feathers of #26 stood out like no other condor in the vicinity, a glistening sheen reflecting off its wings as the sun beat down overhead.

Condors weigh around 20 pounds and, when utilizing those thermal updrafts, can reach speeds of 55 mph. Even more impressive is their ability to reach altitudes of 15,000 feet. On an average day, condors can fly for 150 miles. They soar so high for so long it’s kind of a “now you see them, now you don’t” scenario. They can be soaring right overhead and, within a few seconds, simply vanish.

Chaparral Descent

After hiking below the high peaks and descending back to the trailhead, other birds became active in the shaded oak groves. Throngs of acorn woodpeckers were very busy working on their impressive granaries. A pair of stellar jays hopped from limb to limb above a seasonal arroyo, also foraging for food.

However, when I glanced back over my shoulder, gazing skyward toward the tallest pinnacles, a condor caught my eye. Amongst the deep blue sky and those incredible crags, a condor soared high above, a mere black dot against the brilliant blue. Nevertheless, that high-flying speck demanded all my attention. 