Growing up in Paris, I spent every summer of my childhood in the South of France at my grandparents’ place. They lived “la vie en rose” in the most literal sense, and the glass in their hand was almost always pink. A small taste offered by an indulgent grandparent was part of growing up.

Last June I went back, this time with my own family in Grimaud, just up the road from Saint-Tropez. What you remember most isn’t the scenery, it’s the temperature. The relief of stepping into shade, the cold sweat on a glass after an hour outside, the way that first chilled sip seems to drop the whole room a few degrees. That’s the cue your senses learn to recognize, and once you’ve had a few summers there, you start chasing it.

Fast forward to tasting season, when we sit down to choose which rosés to bring in for our customers this year. Bottle after respectable bottle came across the table. Then we opened Château Montaud L’Éclat 2025.

First sip, I was back in Provence. And here’s the kicker: the estate sits in La Londe-les-Maures, barely a half-hour drive from the exact village I’d spent the summer in. Turns out my palate had been homesick for a very specific postcode, and we’re so excited to share this wine with you! So, if a plane ticket to the Côte d’Azur isn’t in the summer plan, drink like you made the trip anyway.

Les Domaines Montaud is a 250-hectare family estate where the Mediterranean does most of the work and the Mistral, the famous dry northern wind that sweeps through Provence, keeps everything honest. They’re in organic conversion, they propagate their own best vines rather than buying generic ones, and they bottle everything themselves. None of it is loud or marketable. It just shows up in the glass.

Here’s the bit that really matters. Most Provence rosé grows on soft clay-limestone soils, which gives you that silky, pretty style everyone recognizes. L’Éclat has something extra: parcels of schist, a darker, layered rock that lends the wine tension and a touch of mineral snap on the finish you don’t get from limestone alone. That’s the line between a rosé that’s pleasant and a rosé that’s complex and refreshing.

A blend of Grenache, Cinsault, and Rolle (the Italians call it Vermentino). Pale peach in color, faintly shimmering, that quintessential Provence pink you can spot from across the room.

The nose is bright and immediate. Peach skin, pear, a flash of citrus, a hint of white flowers. The palate is lively and surprisingly full for something this pale. There’s real refreshment built into this wine, that rare combination of fruit, salinity and acidity that doesn’t just quench, it resets. Then the schist shows up at the end with a crisp, chalky finish that pulls you straight back for the next sip.

Reach for it with salmon, a big summer salad, a platter of sushi, or a juicy burger or a well-marbled steak. The acidity and that mineral cut on the finish slice right through the fat, which is exactly what you want when the meal is rich and the weather is warm.

Honestly, this is the kind of bottle you pour the moment you walk in from shul on a bright Shabbat afternoon, or that keeps finding its way back into your glass while you’re standing at the grill pretending you only poured one.

It’s also brilliant with Asian food, where a lot of rosés struggle. It handles ginger, lemongrass, and chili with real grace. If you’ve been defaulting to Riesling on takeout night, consider this your upgrade!

L’Éclat is priced to drink on a Tuesday rather than save for a birthday. Which, frankly, is how my grandparents treated rosé, and how rosé was always meant to be treated. Buy a couple of bottles. Open one tonight, save the other for the first proper warm evening. The first sip will tell you everything you need to know. Santé!