Fine Rosé?

What is a fine rosé, and what do they look like in 2026? For tasting notes on a selection of the rosés we think are worth looking out for, click here to jump to the tasting notes. This half of the report concerns still rosé only – part two, on sparkling, follows in January 2027.

And if you want to taste a selection of these wines yourself – come to our (trade-only) Fine Rosé Day, on 16 November in London. Email us for details and to RSVP.

The category has its ups and its downs

Amid the never-ending news of rosé’s success, you might be forgiven for assuming that fine rosé is growing with it.

The trade press is full of enthusiasm – Vitisphere reports rosé holding its own in the UK even as the wider market retreats – and the forecasts agree with it. Fact.MR‘s Europe Rosé Wine Industry Analysis 2025-2035, published last autumn, put European rosé sales at USD 4.8 billion in 2025 and projected USD 6.9 billion by 2035 – a 43.8% increase, or compound annual growth of 3.7%. The growth, they say, will be led by premium and still rosé.

The reasoning rests on lifestyle: rosé as the ultimate lifestyle wine, bought for what it signals as much as for what it tastes of.

Ask who is driving that growth and the same names come back: Whispering Angel (Château d’Esclans), Mirabeau, AIX, Minuty, Miraval. They are consistent, they are well made, and they are recognisable – the benchmark against which commercial rosé is measured. Premium, in these trade analyses and reports, is largely a function of price, marketing ambition and, we would suggest, notoriety. Rosé is often accused of being “all marketing” – we believe that budgets devoted to the category are on par with those devoted to reds and whites; they are simply much more visible.

There are signs of movement. The Vinexpo Market Report 2025 ties premium growth to wines it calls gastronomic – barrel ageing, ageing on fine lees, careful variety selection – and finds that nearly 28% of premium rosé in France is now drunk with a meal, against 45% as an aperitif. FranceAgriMer reports rosés of more intense colour growing at 12% a year, with the palest blush pink down to 35% of sales and the darkest at 15%. Neither figure says anything about quality. Both suggest a widening acceptance of styles beyond the benchmark – and specialist shops and sommeliers are where those styles find their buyers.

The glass ceiling on price is real, but the harder barrier is stylistic: a market trained on five names does not easily accept a sixth that tastes different.

The truth, then, is less comfortable than the forecasts suggest.

A number of producers have stopped making their top rosé because they have struggled to sell it. Château Escarelle’s La Croix d’Engardin and Château La Martinette’s Reflets d’Argens are both still available, but neither has been made for several vintages. Others have moved to producing their top wine only every second year. One of our favourite producers in Provence was blunt about why:

“c’est pas tous les jours qu’on en vend, du rosé à 38 euros […] donc on a décidé d’en faire une année sur deux.” (It’s not every day you sell rosé at 38 euros, so we decided to make it every other year.)

A vibrant fine rosé scene hides a less-than-cohesive market, as producers seek to make a wine that achieves both quality and individuality.

Some focus on historic traditions, others compete with the successful rosés of Provence. And many of those now cutting back were never quite certain why they started. For the most part we think they were following a trend, doing what they took to be the right thing, and testing how customers would respond to a timidly introduced new wine. Few believed in the concept of a fine rosé at all – which does not make the market any easier for those who did. Making and selling fine rosé requires conviction and investment in the category, not a timid addition to a portfolio. It is easy to look back at the success of pioneers such as Château d’Esclans with envy – but the huge costs and work of the team that set it up cannot be overstated. Their hard work has paid off and should not be forgotten.

In some cases, rather than discontinue the top label, the style or colour of the top wine has been rolled back to a more fashionable middle ground, while preserving the label and price tag. We see this as the beginning of a catch-22, where a hard-to-sell distinctive wine slowly loses its identity for the sake of approachability or short-term sales. Pibarnon’s Nuances, for instance, has moved away from Stockinger oak in favour of amphora. To our taste the result sits closer to the reductive, early-drinking style now common across Bandol – more approachable young, but with less of the ageing potential the earlier vintages showed.

The success of ordinary rosé is what makes fine rosé hard to sell. The category that made pink wine commercially relevant trained the trade to move it on colour and price, and its success depended on working with it differently to red and white – a lesson that must often be unlearned when dealing with premium cuvées or fine rosés.

We understand that economics matter. But although standard rosé is generally the same colour as fine rosé, they are not the same market, and they require very different sales techniques to different customers.

Where the 2023 report revealed Rioja to be a stellar region, this one adds a larger number of fine wines from Mantinia in Greece, and more from Provence and England.

We first visited Mantinia three years ago – a real voyage of discovery exploring the green and verdant high altitude plain, with vineyards interspersed with fruit and nut orchards. Moschofilero was the prime variety, and we tasted a few fresh grapey wines with a beautiful taut freshness. What at first appeared to be a unique discovery of one or two long skin contact gris rosés grew into a discovery of a number of producers experimenting with it, making wines from white through pale pink and dark golden pink to light red. Its success has meant that the grape is now also being considered in Provence, to contribute fresh fruitiness to the rosés. Producers such as Troupis, Bosinakis, Zacharias, Nestor and Novus all showed just how exciting these wines can be.

These wines range from serious and structured with longer skin contact (such as from Troupis) to elegant, ethereal, perfumed and precisely the sort of rosé you want for a scorching summer. They all have one thing in common: utterly reasonable pricing, as Mantinia has not yet earned the attention on the international rosé scene that it deserves.

English rosé, however, is not inexpensive. Buoyed by a vibrant local consumer market and the success of sparkling wines, these rosés are often excellent – but rarely where we would look if value for money is the key concern. Prices tend to start around £20 and, with exceptions such as The Heretics’ Cantillon at £32, rarely climb much higher; Balfour’s excellent Nannette’s sits in between at £25. The same argument is often levied at Provence: prices rise every year, and it is a region that has built its success on marketing rather than on the quality of the wines. We disagree, for the most part. It is still a region home to many great rosés, often at surprisingly good prices, and indeed 70 of the wines in this report – nearly half – come from Provence alone.

Some countries figure rather more, or rather less, in tastings of fine rosé, and within this report, than their rosé volumes might suggest. France, the world’s largest rosé market, is surprisingly quiet, other than a few hotspots in Provence (naturally!), Champagne and the Rhône valley. There are plenty of great rosés around France, but they tend to be the exception in a sea of unremarkable wine. The main emphasis in a fairly conservative market is to follow in the footsteps of Provence. This could explain why Tavel, with its very different style, struggles.

Northern Spain, Portugal, Greece, England and Austria all feature as genuine hotspots of quality, where we greet exciting, fine rosés with enthusiasm rather than surprise. Navarra, long regarded as the source of cheap fruity rosés bled off the reds, is now experiencing a seriously exciting boom in fine, age-worthy rosés – Gonzalo Celayeta, whose views on where fine rosé is made appear below, among those responsible. We would caution, however, against too much enthusiasm. The new wave of sublime rosés, crafted with care and attention and a true joy in the glass, have, for the most part, paid the price that Tavel wrestled with for years: their quality has come at the expense of colour.

Navarra, formerly the preserve of dark-but-sometimes-clumsy rosés, is now the home of outstanding-but-generically-pale wines. Has its quest for rosé in the glass (and commercial success) come at the cost of its identity? A swing in fashion back towards darker, more intense wines could leave Navarra, like Tavel, stuck between two worlds. Fine rosé is, as we later discuss, a category which depends as much on history and soul and a conversation around the wine as on the contents of the glass itself; we are left encouraged by the progress in Navarra, but cautious about what the region’s next step will be.

Very pale Navarran rosé from Bodegas Eslava

The wines in this report are a small minority of the rosés we have tasted over the past year – this year, just over a thousand. Many rosés did not make the cut, in two main categories: rosés that were on paper not fine wines, and rosés that on paper ticked many boxes of a fine rosé, and yet disappointed in the glass. Many of this second category still enjoyed lofty prices and good reputations. Although we are staunch defenders of Bandol, its reds, and indeed many of its rosés, origin, hand-tended old vineyards, and pricepoint alone do not make a fine rosé.

What is a fine rosé?

A fine rosé is a wine made as a wine rather than as a colour; it is built to hold attention rather than to purely refresh; and it is a different product from standard rosé in everything but hue.

No amount of paperwork rescues what is not there in the glass. That said, the mere existence of paperwork is itself a criterion: a producer who is transparent about the grapes’ origins, the winemaking process, the philosophy behind it, the choice of barrels or even what inspired the wine is showing a greater sign of fineness than recommended food pairings or vague allusions to the wine’s suitability to a beach club or the estate’s (often imagined) proximity to Saint Tropez.

Fine wines deliver in the glass, but most importantly they spark a conversation. The joy is not simply in the consumption, it is in its discovery, its purchase, and the understanding of its history derived from a conversation with the winemaker or an insight into its terroir. It is not sufficient to taste good in a glass: a fine rosé should deliver poetry about its origins and its story.

Despite this, it is worth remembering that rosé sprang to fame by being none of these things. It was there to be enjoyed, unpretentious in its simplicity. Pretty, joyful, fun. A crowd-pleasing thirst-quencher for hot days. Some fine rosé can excel at this job – but they all go further.

In the glass

Can a fine rosé be defined in terms of taste?

We have to account for our own preferences, which means recognising beauty in styles we would not always choose to drink. Some wines do not shine in a blind tasting environment but open up with decanting and with food; great rosés need to be treated with time and respect.

Complexity of style, through winemaking or through age, gives a rosé greater interest at the table, with flavours ranging from austere and saline to nutty and rich with dried fruit.

The range runs from the minimalist elegance of top Provence – Domaines Ott* and Château Sainte Marguerite are good examples – to wines built to the same rulebook as top reds and whites, often aged in oak. Many dislike oaked rosé; we happen to love it for the richness and depth. The oak need not be powerfully evident, and can contribute subtle weight and texture instead: from the long-aged Gran Reservas of Rioja to the newer oak of Garrus.

Fine rosé is, in our mind, first and foremost defined by complexity. These are wines that aren’t simply fruity, or leathery, or tertiary, or citrussy – nor even elegant, refreshing, or saline. They are a combination of these things, and many more. Tertiary aromas (nuttiness, marmalade, spice) should feel natural rather than tired, and they should complement the fruit rather than replace it.

Fine rosé is also balanced. These aren’t thirst-quenching wines with plentiful acidity that steamrollers the tannins, the texture, the body. We expect texture and structure, and confidence that holds through the finish.

There is a very subtle line between technical perfection and predictability, and I think the most compelling rosés sit right on that line. I look for wines where small imperfections, or simply less conventional choices in the vineyard and cellar, become part of the wine’s complexity rather than faults to be corrected. I want depth, tension and personality, a wine that reveals something more with every glass rather than one that is simply flawless and easy to drink.

Augusto Gherardi, Beverage, Culture and Experience Curator (we did not pay him to agree with us – but every single word matches our beliefs too)

Most importantly, they are wines that make us stop and think while tasting. Wines that evoke a sense of place or history, where the wine conjures up images in the glass. Many sommeliers would call these wines gastronomic (and Elizabeth is keener on the term than Ben): well-enough made to hold up to a variety of foods, even elevating them, in a way a red might overpower and a white might lack the charm or red fruit to manage.

Ripeness of fruit, harvest dates and alcohol levels are increasingly problematic. Market demand for lower alcohol has resulted in high acidity and sometimes unripe fruit, and in poor examples aromatic yeasts, grape varieties or residual sugar are deployed to cover the greenness. To our minds this harks back to the old days, when residual sugar was maintained to mask the excess tannins of juice bled off red wine.

Slightly riper fruit and tannins are good where there is extra maceration to avoid unripe tannins. But there is a fine balance: longer maceration provides more intense, sometimes opulent fruit, while fear of any tannin at all robs the wine of the whisper of structure needed to support that fruit.

While Grenache and Garnacha remain key varieties, members of the Muscat family are certainly worth looking out for: Moschofilero across Mantinia, the Roter Muskateller of Weingut Georg Weinwurm’s Hommage, and the Moscatel of Celler les Freses in Catalonia.

Two shortcuts: the bottle, and the colour

The bottle

First, the elephant in the room. Almost invariably, and quite simply, rosés bottled in dark feuille morte (dead leaf), brown or green glass are better, finer, more age-worthy and more intriguing than their counterparts in clear glass. Lightstrike, signalling, philosophy – the reason doesn’t matter. Dark glass equals, on the whole, fine rosé. In all our years of tasting, fewer than half a dozen rosés in dark glass have left us feeling betrayed by their packaging.

Clos Cibonne has kept its feuille morte glass since its first bottlings in the 1930s, resisting every pressure to move to clear. The bottle and the old label now mark the wines out as icons.

Dark glass is not a single signal, though. Some of these wines – the Tavel cooperative’s A La Mano, for instance – are fun, fruit-driven and concentrated, bottled dark to say that they share a register with a light red rather than with a complex rosé. Guillaume Demoulin at Château Trinquevedel in Tavel has been championing the idea of bottling Tavel destined for cellaring in dark glass, and Tavel aimed at youthful drinking in clear glass. The idea is slowly but surely gaining traction.

Others are very well made but still aiming at freshness, elegance, citrus or perfume: premium versions of summery rosés, such as Eau de Provence’s L’Exclusive or Lacules Single Vineyard. In other cases the choice has nothing to do with fineness at all. Château du Galoupet’s cru classé and its G are in dark glass for the sustainability credentials and the lighter carbon footprint.

Nor is all rosé in clear glass bad. Garrus, Clos du Temple, Tempier and Tondonia are all in clear glass. We beseech them to reconsider – for the longevity of their wines, for their carbon footprint, and, most of all, for the sake of the wider fine rosé category.

For more on lightstrike in particular, read Susie Barrie MW and Peter Richards MW’s investigation into the subject.

Colour

Colour, as always, is controversial for rosé. Once a signal of modernity and good winemaking, paleness is now increasingly associated with commercial wines, dilute fruit and wines that lack conviction. To seek out a dark rosé, though, is to embark on a lonely and perilous path – and not one that necessarily leads to complexity, fineness or quality.

“Just because it’s premium doesn’t mean it needs to have less colour”

Frederico Nuno, Quinta das Baigeras

Winemakers are increasingly finding ways to make exciting wines that are pale: gris grapes, including one of our absolute favourites, Moschofilero; white grapes, common in Rioja, Tavel and parts of Provence, where the blend is known as blouge; or earlier harvesting with cryomaceration, to mixed results in fine rosé, as these wines often simply taste unripe.

It is worth pointing out here one of the most historic rosé appellations, Rosé des Riceys in southern Champagne, whose particular treatment of Pinot Noir involves partial fermentation on the skins, creating the original summer red, winter rosé style. Cerasuolo d’Abruzzo, another historic appellation, traditionally makes a dark, tannic rosé. Tavel makes rosés of every shade, from long skin contact wines with a high percentage of white varieties, through mid-depth fruity wines, to wines verging on light red, with Éric Pifferling leading the way on long maceration. Red wine lovers favour the darker styles.

Colour no longer indicates style. It has no real bearing on sweetness, nor on ripeness, nor on length of skin contact. The rise of chilled reds has blurred the lines further. A dark rosé is no longer necessarily a serious wine built on prolonged skin contact; it may equally be a red stretched thin in pursuit of elegance and buvabilité. That your rosé is as dark as a light Beaujolais does not make it complex and age-worthy, any more than it condemns it to bubblegum fruit and clumsy residual sugar.

We are not saying that pale is bad and dark is good, and we are certainly not saying the reverse. Don’t judge a wine by its colour: it tells you nothing about what is in the glass, even if, as Navarra is discovering, it still tells you something about where the wine came from. If you want a shortcut, look at the bottle rather than what is in it.

Three tests

Our most important question in assessing whether a rosé is a fine rosé is to ask the producer themselves. “Is your rosé a fine wine?” or “does it have aspirations of fineness?” Both are usually answered honestly and accurately. On occasion, simple wines from ambitious producers are presented as fine simply because they are associated with that producer’s prestigious reds, or because the producer believes that a fine rosé should share more of its winemaking pedigree with their entry-level rosé than their top of the range reds. We should be plain that this makes the producer’s own ambition part of our selection: a wine never presented as fine will not have been considered as one here, which is a limit on the report rather than on the category.

In October 2025 we put the question to a panel: Elizabeth Gabay MW, Pauline Vicard of Areni Global, Richard Bampfield MW and Siobhan Turner MW, chaired by Rebecca Palmer of Corney & Barrow. Three markers emerged, none of them specific to rosé: the ability to age, resale value and notoriety. It was written up particularly well on JancisRobinson.com, and also in The Drinks Business, Uncorked With Chlo, Drinks.ua and The Buyer.

Ageing

We both admit to liking a rosé with a touch of maturity, and a wine with the ability to age – in structure, in intensity of fruit, in balance – is already on its way to being fine. But judging that potential is not always easy. Some wines appear to be on their last legs and still have amazing vibrancy. Others have youthful fruit while the structure is disappearing.

Richard Bampfield MW has argued that a fine wine should be ready to drink from the moment it is released. This sits badly with our own preference for a little maturity, and it is worth being clear that we disagree. Most wine, in any colour, is drunk within twelve months of purchase – and most wine is not fine. Most red does not have the ageing potential of fine Bordeaux or Barolo, and it is that improvement with age which sets them apart from Beaujolais Nouveau or entry-level, fruit-forward reds.

We believe it is the same for rosé. There are many fabulous rosés that are stunning when young and slowly fade into obscurity as they languish at the back of the fridge. They are not fine. For us, a component of fineness is that older bottles deliver genuine joy, and not mere curiosity. There is no need for them to be perfect from the day of release.

Ten different vintages feature in this report, every one of them the current marketable vintage of the wine in question. Many of our favourite wines crowd the oldest of them, while younger wines were far more likely to fall short of the threshold we were looking for, or at least to make us pause and discuss the wine’s fineness. The very best do not taste like bottles that have been at the back of a cupboard for a decade: they are at their apogee, with exceptionally vibrant fruit supported by, rather than replaced by, tertiary notes and silky depth. We applaud producers who are only now releasing wines from 2016 – the wines deserve this patience.

Many of these wines are not made in every vintage. Sometimes, as above, the reason is commercial and the producer says so; sometimes it is the vintage itself; and sometimes, we suspect, the vintage is the polite version of the commercial answer. But vintage variation in rosé is real, and it is minimised or neglected in almost every conversation about the category. Matthieu Meyer, winemaker at Château Galoupet, put a year to it: “In 2025, we had bigger berries […] the Cru Classé was much harder to make, it was easier for entry-level wines this vintage”. The bigger berries led to slightly more Tibouren, and slightly more of the blend aged in oak, to maintain the same balance and structure. This is something else that defines a fine rosé such as Galoupet: the winemaker does not follow an identikit recipe every year, but adapts technique and style to the vintage, rather than aiming for a consistent and predictable product at the expense of individuality and character. More generally, we find that vintages rewarding concentration and small berries, and allowing slightly later harvests, are worth looking out for – 2019 is still one of our recent favourites in Provence.

The pressure runs the other way across most of the market. Producers feel obliged to release as young as they can, for cashflow and to placate trade customers keen to stock something new – this is especially true in Provence, and often lamented by producers in Bandol.

If looking for rosé with a bit of age, Spain, and Rioja in particular, stand out for their incredible commitment to properly ageing these wines. We’re also always impressed at the old library vintages of rosé kept by producers in Portugal, especially in Bairrada and the Douro, where verticals are treated with real respect.

Resale value

Old vintages of fine red and fine white are common on the secondary market. Old vintages of rosé, much less so, but exceptions exist. Pink Champagne is the obvious one – and although sparkling is the subject of part two of this report, it cannot be left out of this argument. We reckon that over half of fine rosé by value, either on release or, even more so, on the secondary market, is Champagne. The rosé trade turns a blind eye in most conversations to its most successful, prestigious, and largest-by-value component when talking about premium wines.

A tiny handful of appellations do, on occasion, crop up. Bandol, Tavel, and especially Rioja Gran Reserva are the three appellations for which older wines are on allocation rather than seen as old stock.

The Rioja figures repay a close look, because they say something more interesting than they first appear to. Aged rosado is a rounding error in the region’s output: across 2021-2025 the Crianza, Reserva and Gran Reserva categories together accounted for roughly 229,000 litres, against annual rosé sales of some 11.4 million. Nor has that total grown – it is slightly down on the previous five-year window. What has changed is its composition. Crianza has roughly halved, while Reserva has gone from negligible to around 66,000 litres and Gran Reserva has grown by half again. Longer-aged styles now account for more than half of aged Rioja rosado, against under a fifth a decade ago.

Our reading of the Consejo’s numbers, and of wider attitudes in the trade, is that this is not a category expanding. It is a category climbing. Producers are not making more aged rosado; they are ageing it for longer, and doing so while overall Rioja rosé sales have drifted down from around 13 million litres in 2011 to 11.4 million in 2025. Rosé is not “doing great”, nor is it a bubble that has burst: it is a market that is changing fast, structurally, and the wines that make up these numbers are not the same as what they used to be.

The Consejo adds a caveat that matters more than it first appears. A good number of premium rosados never enter these figures at all, either because they miss the ageing requirements or because their makers want the freedom to work with larger barrels, amphorae and the rest. The official categories capture the traditional route to fine rosado and miss the experimental one, which is precisely where much of the interesting work is now being done.

One thing is clear, however: few of these wines have resale value on the secondary market, leading us to question its relevance to the fineness of rosé. We don’t believe in resale value as a criterion, not because it is wrong about fine wine in general, but because it measures a market rather than a wine; and the rosé market is still learning. What it stands in for – the belief that a bottle will still be worth opening in ten years – is the ageing test, which we have already accepted. A rosé does not become finer because someone is willing to resell it, and Rioja’s aged rosados were fine long before anyone put them on allocation.

Ben tasting Rioja Gran Reserva from the barrel at Bodegas Alvia, on his way to Santiago de Compostela

Notoriety and price

Notoriety is the marker we accept least willingly. It describes how the market prices fineness accurately enough – Tavel, Bandol and Rioja are famous for rosés that age, and are priced accordingly – but it cannot be part of what makes a wine fine, because it would disqualify every wine nobody has heard of yet, be that rosé or the New World.

Alberto Gherardi puts it in terms of restaurants.

A fine wine is like an excellent trattoria or brasserie where the focus is on the quality of the food and the pleasure of the experience. A premium wine is more like a Michelin-starred destination: the quality is a given, but you also pay for reputation, scarcity, positioning and the overall experience.

Alberto Gherardi

Mantinia is the case in point: these are inexpensive wines because they are ‘undiscovered’, not because they are lesser wines. Navarra is the same argument from the other side: a region whose reputation was so fixed that its reversal has gone largely unnoticed so far.

A premium rosé is not automatically a fine rosé, just as a genuinely fine rosé does not necessarily need to occupy the highest price bracket.

Augusto Gherardi

What is certain is that fine rosé can on occasion be cheap, especially from Spain and Greece. Bosinakis’ Iereia and Duende from Bodegas Pinuaga both retail under £25 or €25, although it is rare to find great, fine rosé at £15 or under – we don’t believe this report includes any at all.

How fine rosé is made

Everything in this section is a proxy. None of it guarantees a fine wine. These are the marks of a producer paying attention, rather than properties of the wine itself. Because these criteria also shaped what we sought out, their prevalence here is not independent evidence that they work. They earn their place differently: as a way of finding wines worth tasting, not as an exclusive way of deciding which are fine.

Spontaneous fermentation. It is not in itself a mark of quality, but it points away from wines using selected yeasts to build a specific fruit profile, and towards those aiming for varietal or terroir expression. It also prefers slightly warmer fermentation temperatures, another contributor to complexity in rosé. It intrigues us that so many producers insist it is impossible in rosé “because of the pH”; we are not convinced by that argument. Spontaneous fermentation often goes hand in hand, especially in old-school Tavel, with malolactic fermentation. Judiciously handled, that creates subtle depth and richness – we wrote about whether malolactic has a place in rosé for SevenFifty Daily.

Vessels. Cold fermentation in tank rarely produces a great rosé, though it can surprise – see below on what steel can do when the fruit carries the wine. Concrete and terracotta let a minimalist elegance find complexity through texture, while more porous vessels work with oxygen and temper the extremes of reduction. We wrote about this, too, for SevenFifty Daily.

Oak. Many purists, especially in the south of France, decry its use in whites and reds. We think oak is a winemaking tool or process like any other, and that it often contributes to our favourite rosés. We do however caution winemakers against its frivolous use. When associated with an otherwise unremarkable rosé, the result smells more like a sawmill (and can taste like one too) than a fine wine. Wine needs concentration, alcohol, structure, and acidity to survive the oak without being overpowered. Judicious toasting, old oak, large format or unusual woods (Château de Saint Martin always stand out for their mulberry wood barrels, a nod to the estate’s history as a silkworm farm) all contribute to this balance.

And its absence. Fineness does not always mean oak. Where it is absent, other techniques almost invariably supply what the wood would have contributed: tannin from maceration rather than barrel, micro-oxidation from other porous vessels, concentration from low yields, sweet floral notes from aromatic varieties rather than acacia or American oak – and certainly not from the yeast. Vinum Hadrianum’s Publicius Cerasuolo relies on prolonged skin contact and eight months in tank to keep purity of fruit without oak. Bosinakis’ Iereia relies on high acidity, 6.3g/l, and a floral variety to deliver a vibrancy and perfume closer to fine Riesling than to a typical Mediterranean rosé. Usually stainless steel underwhelms – these wines show that it has a place in a wine that can derive weight and complexity from the grapes themselves.

Terroir and typicity. Much as we love Provence and its wines, our ambition is not a world of wines labelled ‘Provence-style’ – a moniker now so over-used that it refers purely to pale colour and, all too often, the absence of residual sugar. We talk about the subtle variations of rosés across the region in The Rosés of Southern France. Wines should show genuine regional character, and the taste of terroir or variety is something we actively look for in a fine rosé, even if it’s in the most fashionable style. Grenache alone accounts for 28.7% of European rosé demand, which is no surprise given how much of Provence, the southern Rhône, the Languedoc and northern Spain is built on it – but a variety that widespread tells you very little about where a wine comes from, and everything then rests on what the producer does with it. Navarra conjures images of sangrado Garnacha, and we think that the very best ought to be proud of this history; they must own their identity rather than chase the fashionably pale style of the day.

Old vines. Low-yielding old vines are usually reserved for red wines, which command a higher price. Kudos to producers who spend them on rosé instead, and who think top varieties are worth the same. Old vine fruit often ends up in single-vineyard bottlings. Wines with shorter skin contact, such as most rosé, rely even more on concentration of fruit than reds do – with less skin contact to draw on, rosé depends more on the intrinsic quality of the juice, and can benefit from old vines even more than reds.

Elizabeth in a very, very, very windy Navarran vineyard, next to a 100 year-old Garnacha vine

Not all winemakers agree. Gonzalo Celayeta, who makes some of our absolute favourite Navarran rosés, told us that “for rosé, it’s more important what we do in the winery than in the vineyards.” Although we adore his wines, his distinction between what works for a wine and what works for a rosé is at odds with our belief that a good rosé is a wine first, and a rosé second.

Whether Gonzalo is right is the question we set out to answer at our third Fine Rosé Day, in London on 16 November: “Is fine rosé made in the vineyard?” Matthieu Meyer’s bigger berries in 2025 are the sort of evidence the debate will have to weigh. We will be writing up the answer in the 2027 edition of this report.

Where this leaves us

Defining a fine rosé remains problematic. A producer can tick every box on paper, in viticulture and in winemaking, and make a dull wine, while another can look simple on paper and still produce something outstanding, with beautiful purity and fruit definition.

Fine rosé is getting better at exactly the moment it is getting harder to sell. The market is punishing, the trade is set up to move something else, and several of the best wines we tasted this year are now made in half the vintages they used to be. We think they are worth defending.

So: ask to taste a library vintage before buying the current one. Look out for rosés in dark glass. Don’t judge them by their colour. Run away from a wine that is called Provence-style before its own merits are listed. And don’t forget that there is a rosé – fine or otherwise – for everyone. Someone looking for a chilled red might be better served by a dark, fine rosé than by an entry-level red wine – if there is any difference in colour at all.

About this report

This year’s report covers 150 rosés, from just over a thousand tasted, against 220 in our first, published for Club Oenologique in 2023. Every wine was tasted in the vintage currently on the market, which this year meant ten different vintages across the report.

We have been at this a while. Classic Wine Library published Rosé: Understanding the Pink Wine Revolution in 2018, when rosé was still in its modern infancy. The first Fine Rosé Day followed in June 2024, written up here; by then we had dropped ‘premium’, a term which suggests fineness is determined by price alone.

Our tasting notes

About us

We’re mother and son duo Elizabeth Gabay MW and Ben Bernheim. Between us, we’ve been involved in the wines of southern France for over 30 years. Elizabeth started working with the wines of Provence back in 1986, and for the past 20 years has lived on the eastern edge of south-east France. We’ve worked on three books on rosé: Rosé Understanding the Pink Wine Revolution (2018), Elizabeth Gabay’s Buyers Guide to the Rosés of Southern France (2021 e-guide) and, most recently Rosés of Southern France (2022).

Please do not reproduce our tasting notes or scores without getting in touch with us first.