Here in the States, rosé can feel like a trend, something that shows up on patios in June and disappears by Labor Day. In France, it’s never been that. Rosé is no fad there, and not a seasonal wine. It’s simply wine made with intention, tied to a place, and poured at the table all year long. In Provence, families have been making it for generations, often from the same vines and with the same care that goes into their most serious reds. It’s the wine of everyday life: lunch, dinner, and the long conversations that follow both.
That said, we won’t pretend the timing is an accident. Rosé may not be seasonal in France, but it is awfully good in the dog days of summer, cold in the glass, bright on the palate, and refreshing next to anything coming off the grill. This month we’re taking you to two sun-soaked spots on the Mediterranean coast and one green hillside in the Loire Valley, three rosés that show just how much range pink wine can have.
All three come to us through Rosenthal Wine Merchant, an importer we trust implicitly. Neal Rosenthal started the company in 1977 and has spent nearly fifty years working the same way: small family estates rather than big brands, a handshake rather than a contract.
His name on the back label is kind of a promise. We had the privilege of hearing him present not long ago, and at eighty, he still talks about wine the way he always has, less about scores and more about the people and the vines and the land.
I tell people all the time: if you’re buying wine without someone like Katie, Pat, or me there to steer you, knowing which importers you trust is a great place to start. Rosenthal is one of ours, and these three growers are his family, who have been doing this the right way for a very long time. That’s the company we like to keep.
Chill them well, but not to death. A few minutes out of the fridge and they really start to talk. Open a bottle this week on a warm evening. You’ll get it.
Cheers,
P. + E. Mullins
2025 Château Pradeaux Côtes de Provence Rosé
Côtes de Provence, France
Château Pradeaux sits on the edge of Saint-Cyr-sur-Mer, a small town on the Mediterranean between Toulon and Marseille, and it has belonged to the Portalis family since 1752. The family history reads like a novel: the man who inherited the estate that year, Jean-Marie-Étienne Portalis, went on to help write the Napoleonic Code. The property survived the French Revolution and the phylloxera epidemic, and during World War II the family retreated here and set about reviving the vineyards. It was Arlette Portalis who, in 1941, helped establish the Bandol appellation itself, the small, rugged district that surrounds the estate. Today her descendants Étienne and Édouard represent the ninth generation to farm this land, working organically, with sheep grazing between the rows in spring.
Pradeaux is best known for its Bandol reds, brooding, old-school Mourvèdre that spends four years in giant old oak casks and can age for decades. That seriousness carries straight into this rosé. Built mostly on Cinsault and Mourvèdre with a bit of Grenache and Carignan, it comes from vineyards that were actually classified as Bandol until just over a decade ago. Same family, same farming, same pedigree. That’s why this bottle stands apart from the sea of pale, simple Provence pink.
In the glass, it’s a pink with a coppery, iron-like tinge, a shade deeper than most of its neighbors. The nose offers ripe stone fruit, wild strawberry, and dried Provençal herbs over a stony, mineral base. On the palate, this is rosé with real substance: peaches, sappy red fruit, a firm mineral grip, and a finish that keeps going long after the sip. It’s what the French would call a vin de gastronomie, a rosé that wants food.
At the table: This is the rosé for the grill. Sausages, lamb burgers, herb-rubbed chicken, ratatouille, or a picnic spread of tapenade and saucisson. It has the backbone to stand up to char and smoke.
2025 Domaine du Bagnol Cassis Rosé
Cassis, Provence, France
Cassis is a tiny fishing village tucked between Marseille and Toulon, famous for its dramatic limestone cliffs and sheltered coves, and for being the very first appellation in Provence, recognized back in 1936. (No relation to the blackcurrant liqueur, by the way; that’s a Burgundy thing.) Vines have grown here since the ancient Greeks came ashore, and today the appellation remains small, coveted, and almost entirely drunk up by the locals and lucky visitors.
Domaine du Bagnol is the village’s benchmark estate: just seven hectares, a short walk from the town center, sitting beneath the towering limestone face of Cap Canaille and a mere two hundred meters from the water. Jean-Louis Genovesi, a Cassis native who had gone off to Paris to make his career, came home and bought the estate in 1997, and together with his son Sébastien restored it to glory. Sébastien runs it today with an almost stubborn devotion to doing things by hand, no tractors, certified organic farming, and picking timed to keep every bit of freshness in the fruit.
The rosé is a blend of Grenache, Cinsault, and Mourvèdre, pressed quickly and gently, under two hours on the skins, which is why the color is so delicate. And it is delicate: the palest whisper of pink in the glass, more sunrise than sunset. The nose is all white peach, pink grapefruit, wild strawberry, and fennel, with an unmistakable breath of sea air. The palate is bone dry, precise, and quietly intense, citrus zest and red currant riding a wave of saline, limestone-driven minerality through a long, clean finish. If Pradeaux is the sturdy one, this is the elegant one. You can practically taste the Mediterranean.
At the table: Seafood, full stop. Grilled fish, shrimp, oysters, mussels, or if you’re feeling ambitious, a pot of bouillabaisse. It’s also lovely with fresh goat cheese, ripe tomatoes with olive oil, or all by itself as the sun goes down.
2025 Château Soucherie Rosé de Loire “L’Astrée”
Anjou, Loire Valley, France
For our third stop, we head north, proof that great French rosé is not just a Provençal affair. Château Soucherie sits on a hillside above the Layon River in Anjou, about twenty minutes south of Angers, with one of the prettiest views in the Loire Valley. The property belonged to the family of the Dukes of Brissac until 1952; the château itself was built in the late 1800s by a princess who used it as a country retreat for entertaining friends. A local winemaking family, the Tijous, then farmed it for half a century before the Béguinot family took over in 2007. The Béguinots restored the buildings, focused their energy on the vineyards, and converted the whole estate to certified organic farming.
Soucherie is best known for its Chenin Blanc, serious dry whites from Savennières and honeyed sweet wines from the Coteaux du Layon, but the estate has a playful side too, and L’Astrée is it. This is 70% Grolleau and 30% Gamay from vines averaging thirty-five years old, rooted in clay and schist in the small named plot that gives the wine its name. The fruit is pressed directly, fermented cool in stainless steel, and rested on its lees for six months, which gives the wine a subtle creaminess beneath all that freshness.
In the glass, it’s a pale salmon pink with a faint copper glint. The aromatics are pure charm: wild strawberry, watermelon, rose petal, and a note of red apple skin. The palate is soft, juicy, and completely dry, with snappy Loire acidity and a cool mineral streak running underneath. Where the Provence wines taste of sun and stone, this one tastes of orchards and rivers, a gentler, cooler take on pink that might just be the most refreshing wine in this month’s club.
At the table: A natural with charcuterie, grilled salmon, summer salads, and soft-rind cheeses. It’s also the ultimate picnic wine, low fuss, high pleasure, and dangerously easy to pour a second glass.
