The first place I learned to really love being alone was in the window seat at St Jardim, overlooking the corner of 10th and West 4th. From this particular vantage—warped differently each time by the way the sun refracts through the large panes of glass—it can feel as though all of New York suddenly becomes understandable, along with one’s own place within it. It’s the sort of corner, framed by wide café-lined sidewalks, where nothing makes sense and therefore everything does. Andy Cohen takes a phone call on one side of the street while, somewhere across the intersection, one couple falls in love as another breaks up. Dogs tug at their leashes and the city softens to the ordinary sight of babies being pushed in strollers. It’s where I spent my twenty-third birthday—the first after moving to New York—and where I found myself on New Year’s morning in both 2024 and 2025, when the city still slept under the same contented blanket while some persistent restlessness pulled me toward the only place I could reliably find peace. It’s also the first place I ever truly tasted wine. Where I would take myself to fill particularly empty Thursdays with the taste of three different wines which you could try for $25 if you came before 8.
So to return there last week—the first place I learned to really love being alone—to host my most recent wine club and gather around the wines I’d chosen was to recognize how much my life in New York has changed against the backdrop of certain things that never do. Set to the theme of rosé and the sound of spinning vinyl, the evening unfolded to the intimacy of an elaborate dinner part. Now the corner seat I’d once claimed as my own was occupied by a couple visiting from Cincinnati who were stopping through on their way to a wedding outside of his hometown in Scotland. Next to them, my dearest friends drank from full glasses of Gut Oggau’s Maskerade which I poured from over the bar. Just at golden hour, the sun revealed itself from behind thick gray clouds and the light filled the space with a warmth and glow in the same shade as the wine we poured from Alsace. Cuvées from Italy and Imerati chilled in a large bucket of ice on the counter, the vibrant spirit of their winemakers captured in every sip. Rosé has to me a spirit of conviviality that can’t be ignored. Wines that are impossible to open and feel alone still. To drink them in the place where I once knew loneliness best was a kind of rebirth. The mark of a new season. These are not your typical rosés—darker, bolder, deeper, longer wines that challenge our understanding of pink wines. But they are the rosés I wish most to share with you and an invitation to drink these wines in good company.
2024 Frank Cornelissen ‘Susucaru’ Rosato
Against the backdrop of Sicily’s sun-kissed locals, with leathery skin the shade of the olives which grow there, Frank Cornelissen stands out immediately. Characteristically, his wines do too. The Belgian-born winemaker, with the icy features of someone conjured by a blizzard—white hair, piercing blue eyes—established his estate on the northern slopes of Mount Etna in 2001. Formerly a wine collector and broker specializing in rare Burgundy and Bordeaux, Cornelissen’s philosophy shifted after an encounter with Georgian wines in the 1990s, awakening him to the possibilities of low-intervention winemaking. Susucaru Rosato is a field blend of Nerello Mascalese, Malvasia, Moscadella, and Catarratto, lightly crushed and macerated on the skins for ten days in neutral epoxy tanks before being transferred to amphora for élevage. The result is a rosé that teeters on the edge of red: vibrant, volcanic, and bursting with crunchy berries, blood orange, wild herbs, and ash.
Christian Binner is one of the most legendary natural winemakers in Alsace. Located in the northeastern corner of France along the German border, the Binner family has been organically farming in Ammerschwihr since 1770. When Christian took over the domaine in 1990–along with his sister Béatrice–he inherited vineyards that had effectively never been treated with chemicals Christian took this one step further, converting the entire estate to 100% biodynamic farming in the early 2000s. Everything the Binners do is drenched in craftsmanship. In the cellar, large oak foudre–made from over 100 year old oak–where the wines age are adorned with ornately carved wooden tap covers. This ‘rosé’ is no different. A non-vintage blend of hand-harvested Gewurztraminer, Pinot Gris, and Riesling, it’s more an orange wine, really, getting its hue from the dark skins of the gris grapes which undergo a six month long maceration period. Its profile therefore leans more stonefruit, with notes of apricot, orange peel and tropical fruits as well as lychee and rose petal. Grippy tannins and a nice bite, it’s refreshing without being frivolous, bright yet grounded and perfect for warmer days.
2024 Rabasco Damigiana ‘Rosato’
Iole Rabasco, the head winemaker at her family’s domaine in Abruzzo, is the absolute coolest. With wild, curly hair and an equally free spirit, Iole was a lawyer in another life before she returned to the family winery in the early 2000s, to dedicate herself instead to winemaking. The Rabasco family has an almost religious dedication to their land, and for good reason. Nestled between the Adriatic Sea and the Gran Sasso mountains, they organically farm the 4 hectares of vines and olive trees. In 2006 Iole converted everything completely to biodynamic farming with the simple goal of leaving the land better than she found it. Their Rosato Damigiana, is a stunning encapsulation of the Rabasco spirit–a loyal expression of Abruzzo and its terroir. 100% Montepulciano from a small, hillside vineyard close to the sea, grapes are hand-harvested and processed within 1 hour of collection. Fermentation occurs in open vats before aging in large, glass demijohns (damigiana) until spring bottling. Brilliant cherry color with aromas of ripe red fruit–sour cherry, raspberry, complemented by stony notes of limestone.
From iconic cult vignerons Stephanie and Eduard Tscheppe, Maskerade is a field-blend rosé that offers more than meets the eye. Operating out of the small town of Oggau in Burgenland, Austria, the couple made a name for themselves crafting wines filled with personality and spirit after meticulously restoring an abandoned 17th-century winery in 2007. Made from Blaufränkisch and Zweigelt hand-harvested from Gut Oggau’s newest vineyard parcels, Maskerade marks one of the estate’s first expansions onto new land since its founding. The masks therefore symbolize vines whose true personality has not yet fully revealed itself. Likewise, the wine continues to unfold with every sip. The grapes are partially destemmed and partially direct-pressed — the two primary vinification methods for rosé — before finishing fermentation in old Austrian oak and being bottled without fining, filtration, or additives. The result is a cuvée bursting with red fruit, slightly effervescent, with savory herbal undertone and a bright, salty finish. A youthful rosé thought not without elements of sophistication, it’s a wine that’s meant to be shared with friends and enjoyed under the swooping canopy of a patio umbrella on a long, summery day.
When curating my latest wine club—a collection of “renegade rosés,” bottles meant to challenge everything people think they know about rosé—this Tavel became the cornerstone. The tiny appellation in France’s Southern Rhône Valley is home to some of the category’s most distinctive wines. Once considered among France’s most prestigious appellations, Tavel lost much of its identity with the rise of chemical farming in the 1960s and ’70s. Its wines are meant to serve as the antithesis to the rosés of Provence: deeper in hue, more structured, with concentrated notes of red fruit and spice. Few winemakers embody this spirit today better than Eric Pfifferling of L’Anglore, who helped pioneer a return terroir-driven Tavels through organic farming and low-intervention winemaking. This cuvée, a blend of Grenache, Cinsault, Carignan, and Clairette, uses white grapes to lend freshness to a style traditionally known for its fuller body. Grapes undergo 8-day whole bunch maceration, are pressed separately and juices blended, before aging for 1 year in barrels and cement tanks. All of this lends itself to that dark, sunset-ty hue that is typical of Tavel rosés. Delicately perfumed with oregano and violet, delicate tannins, and a wonderful bouquet of strawberries and cherry, it’s always exactly what I want to drink.
Georgia, often credited as the birthplace of wine, is also home to some of the most exciting winemaking in the world today — and Igavi Wines are no exception. Named after the Georgian word for “folk tale,” Igavi is sprung from several interwoven histories. Head producer Aidan Rafferty began his winemaking journey in Australia, when he started a cellar out of his garage, making house label cuvées for Persillade, the renowned bistro and natural wine bar Rafferty founded in 2013 in Melbourne. In 2017, he closed the business and began importing wine, soon finding himself on a sourcing trip to Georgia. Raftery fell in love. With the country and also with Ellie Bukhaidze, a Georgian native who he would go on to marry and moved there full time in 2019, spending the next six years remodeling this ancient stone structure into a home and cellar. Today, Rafferty works primarily with Georgian native grapes like Dzelshavi, considered by some the perfect summer grape for its light, fresh and lively expression. This Rosé, made from 40% Dzelshavi fermented with a blend of other white and red grapes, captures that summer spirit perfectly. Bursting with acidity and berries, it offers a palate of just ripened red fruit, notes of white strawberry, rose petal and a luscious minerality that is both nostalgic and like nothing you’ve ever had before.
Thanks for the recommendations! Just in time for Memorial Day xx
Nice list, thanks. I haven't seen either that Binner cuvée or the Rabasco in the UK so I must go have a ferret about a bit.