A rosé of any other color
All three were also made with entirely different grapes. Broc was mainly valdigué, a variety once called “Napa gamay” in California, with zinfandel and trousseau. The Tiberio was made entirely from Montepulciano, while the Trinquevedel was a blend of southern Rhône grapes, including 60 percent Grenache, 18 percent Cinsault, 5 percent Syrah, 5 percent Mourvèdre and, interestingly, 12 percent Clairette, a white variety.
This mixture may seem to explain its garnet color. While some basic rosés are indeed produced by pairing a little red wine with a white, the low percentage of clairette in the blend militates against the method.
Instead, as has been traditional in the southern Rhône, white is used in a blend of red to add freshness. As with the other two wines, the color was achieved by macerating the red grapes with their skins just long enough to achieve the desired nuances.
Beyond the color, the origin and the production, the wines differ a little. The Broc was dry, slightly spicy, tangy and fresh. It contained only 11% alcohol, the kind of wine you could drink to cool off at the beach or by the pool. It fit well with the popular conception of rosés as simple and easy going wines, although I would say Broc was a superb example.
The Trinquevedel was completely different. It was rich and potent at 14.2 percent alcohol, with a floral aroma. On the palate, it was more earthy and mineral than fruity, with depth and dimension.
The Tiberio was also bigger and more serious than the 14 percent alcohol Broc, but with more acidity than the Trinquevedel. It seemed to combine tangy and juicy red fruit flavors with chalky minerality.
I felt like I could offer all three wines at the same dinner. Le Broc would be an aperitif, with appetizers. The Tiberio could go halfway. It was light enough for shellfish but juicy enough to withstand something more filling, like roast chicken. Meanwhile, the Trinquevedel seemed solid enough for a roast veal or an Umbrian rabbit or a chicken cacciatora.