Dudebro sitting one table over was concerned about my wine choice. In fact, by his own admission, he was downright fearful.
“Pink wine,” he announced as my server handed me a glass of bone-dry Provençal rosé to go with my oysters, “scares the hell out of me.”
Ostensibly, he said this to his girlfriend, but in reality, his pronouncement was made for the dubious benefit of anyone within a twenty-foot radius. His collar was popped. He may have been wearing a Google glass.
A true and distressingly recent story. (In the interest of full disclosure, dudebro may actually be a composite of several different dudebros.)
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Here at AWM, we like that a wine can scare the hell out of someone. We like that a wine can withstand decades of being maligned and grossly misunderstood, of being associated in the public consciousness with Mateus and white zinfandel, to finally claim its own well-deserved limelight. The truth all along, as Joe Strummer once astutely observed, was only known by guttersnipes.
So it’s with attitudes like dudebro’s in mind — and drawing inspiration from Summer of Riesling, which ended a glorious 8-year run in 2014 — that we announce that summer 2015 at AWM is officially Summer of Rosé. Things are about to get
