The wine that made me change my mind about rosé

Some time ago, I wrote that rosé should only be drunk south of Lyon, but one could start on the first bottle around 10.30 while brushing away the last shards of breakfast croissant. Although I received appreciative comments, I am no longer sure that I agree with myself. I recently discovered Domaine de Triennes, which is a serious wine with length and structure — far better than the average supermarket rosé which would work perfectly well as an ice lolly.

Domaine de Triennes ought to be good. It was founded by Aubert de Villaine of Romanée-Conti, an unsurpassable pedigree, and Jacques Seysses who had been with Dujac, a superb Burgundian producer. The Var has always produced lots of wine, almost all quaffable, almost none worthy of serious attention. The two partners were convinced that this could change. They discovered a potential vineyard in the hills of the Var.

The Var is underrated. It is unspoiled France profonde. A friend who used to have a house in a little village was delighted by how his shaving would be interrupted. The local restaurateur would shout up to the bathroom: ‘David, I’m off to the markets. Anything you fancy for lunch?’ Needless to say, there was no thought of eating anywhere else: excellent local ingredients, cheap as… frites.

The Burgundians discovered that the soil had enough limestone to ensure minerality. Wine had been grown there for at least two millennia. The name Triennes was chosen in honour of the triennial festival to Bacchus, as observed by the ancients (why only triennial?). To the new venture, the pioneers brought the most up-to-date techniques, grafting wines and pruning them to ensure quality over quantity. But the oenologues were also oenophiles. Science was complemented by a belief in tradition, a veneration of terroir and two formidable palates: the perfect equipment for vignerons.