Hi, my name’s Amber.
I’m Rosé. Nice to meet you. Where are you from?
Nowhere and everywhere! My family goes back eons. We didn’t really keep records.
Same here. I have family in Southern France, but my ancestors had a lot of kids. There’s a bunch of us in Spain and Italy and the U.S., plus so many Australians! Whom, I’m embarrassed to say, I’ve never met.
I have ancestors in that pretty ring around the Northern Adriatic, you know — Northeastern Italy and Slovenia? But really Amber’s made all over.
What do you taste like?
It depends partly on the grapes but it’s mostly about how I’m made.
How are you made?
We like to say, “Amber is white wine made like red wine.”
Meaning?
Meaning the winemaker takes white grapes — which, let’s be honest, are actually yellow or gold or bronze — and lets them macerate as they start fermenting.
Gotcha, like in red winemaking. Maceration gives the wine color and flavor.
Exactly. So, it gets fermenting and after a while, maybe a day but usually longer, even as long as six months, the winemaker removes the skins and seeds and other junk.
Do they press it like a red?
Yes, but gently so the wine doesn’t get too astringent. At the end, you have a golden or orange colored wine with big flavor and texture, served with a chill. White wine made like red wine. Boom.
I guess we’re kind of opposites.
How so?
For Rosé, the winemaker takes red grapes and processes them right away without letting the skins have much contact with the juice. Maybe almost none or a few hours, rarely longer than a couple of days. The wine ends up pink, much paler than a red. The goal is to get some color and preserve primary fruit.
So really, you could say, “Rosé is red wine made like white wine.”
I never thought of it that way! Or maybe more precisely, “Rosé is a red-grape wine made like a white wine.”
Touché. So, in my case: “Amber is a white-grape wine made like a red wine.”
[Amber and Rosé high-five.]
Shall we grab a glass?
Rose Gold, digital painting ©2025 Meg Maker
Love this playful exchange. 🫶🏻