Domaine Tempier: Bandol Rosé

It turns out my tastes are simple, I am easily satisfied with the best

Originally published on my Substack November 17, 2020

My French family have a house in a place called Châtelaillon-Plage. It’s an unsullied stretch of beach along the Atlantic coast just south of La Rochelle where the only tourists are Frenchmen and nobody drinks white wine. Days are spent watching the proud sailing vessels pirouette about the Bay of Biscay punctuated by bouts of hand-to-hand combat with platefuls of langoustines and pink-stained corks. Does this sound like somewhere you’d rather be?

(Above: There are no yachts in this photograph)

But let another scene unfold: an apartment in a coastal North American city. Framed posters line the walls. A group of pale, sickly-looking friends pull down their masks and surround a small kitchen island. The windows are closed against the autumn chill. No one has eaten a civilized meal in a restaurant since February. There is less day than night. Is this more familiar?

There was a time when you could board a thing called a plane and fly to coastal areas of France where wine is pink and your phone doesn’t work. This is no longer possible. But there is a palliative I recommend: Domain Tempier’s Bandol Rosé.

(Above: It costs less than a plane ticket but not by much)

I am concerned that what follows is going to read like pretentious drivel; brace yourself.

If the glass in your hand is evoking a sense of place, you’re appreciating a good wine. If not, the wine is indifferent or not to your taste, which is fine! The place needn’t be where the wine comes from (though there should be clues in the tasting notes) but could be a setting where you enjoyed the wine or something similar in the past. This wine takes me to Châtelaillon, which is on the other side of France from Provence where the village of Bandol is located.

And unless your palette is as leaden as Ben Affleck’s acting, a glass of this will take you somewhere better than whatever hyperborean scene is lurking outside your window. It’s summer-by-the-water in a bottle and not a crowd in sight.

Lily-blossom, pink fruit, vaguely saline scents proceed round, fleshy textures and powerful flavors of ripe nectarine. There is a cleansing minerality to this which we get from the limestone soil. It’s fabulous.

It also costs more than Rosé should. You’re not going to find this for less than $55 a bottle but you could do worse. If your home is feeling more like a prison than sanctuary and you’ve nowhere to go, uncork a bottle of this and see if it helps; I did; it did.