Let’s lift a glass in celebration of National Rosé Wine Day—June 13.
Though I’m a rosé fan, I must admit I was unaware of this venerable occasion. But my friend, Anne Carman, reminded me, thinking I might find it blogworthy. (If it weren’t for the virus, she and I might be lifting a glass even now to honor the day.)
The White House Dinner
Certainly, the beautiful blend of skins and juice deserves recognition. Besides, it gives me an excuse to tell my rosé story. Actually, it’s more of a confession.
It occurred in the 90s, when I was at a formal White House dinner. The spacious East Room was filled with white-clothed tables, each topped with fine silver, china, and an array of correct stemware. The man in the tuxedo next to me was a Cabinet officer. An undersecretary of something. And, as I soon learned, an insufferable wine snob.
When the red wine was poured, he over-swirled his glass, sniffed it with closed eyelids, and mumbled something about the absence of floral notes. The white wine fared no better. Since I’m not a wine savant, I could do little more than sigh. Finally, the undersecretary declared he wanted a rosé and started raising his voice and waving his hand, trying to get the attention of a waiter.
At that point, I’d had enough of his antics and did something that, to this day, I can’t believe I dared to do at the White House. I picked up his red wine glass and poured a splash into his white wine and said, “There, now, you have a rosé.” As others at the table, muffled their laughter in a napkin, he looked aghast at my behavior. The undersecretary didn’t speak to me the rest of the evening, which was probably just as well.
Here’s hoping you have a happy Rosé Wine Day—with the real stuff!
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