I haven’t counted the words, but some of the most stirring, unforgettable fiction I’ve read in the last couple of years has probably fit the description of a “novella.” When recommending Claire Keegan’s Small Things Like These or Elizabeth O’Connor’s Whale Fall to friends, though, I haven’t used this word once. What purpose does it serve besides conveying length? I try to focus on the qualities that make them so rousing instead.
      I feel similarly about Maxime Magnon’s stunning Corbières “Métisse.” Maxime may put “rosé” on the label, but don’t be too preoccupied by the wine’s type—is it a red or is it a rosé?—when you can be fully mesmerized by its extraordinary blend of depth, soul, and lifted grace instead. Hailing from old-vine Grenache and Cinsault high up in the hills of Corbières, Métisse captures the stony, savory spice of the South so well, but at the same time flaunts ambrosial fruit notes—think black cherries, pomegranate, and blood orange. I hesitate to recommend a food pairing because it’s the kind of wine I want to focus on while I sip it without any other interference, but if you were to serve it at dinner, you can’t go wrong with a summery platter of grilled flank steak, tapenade, roasted tomatoes, and green beans.
      In our May newsletter, Kermit wrote about a “revolution in a few French wine cellars” of rosés “that, like all red wines, finish their malolactic fermentation…[and] are paving the way for the success of a more natural, old-fashioned style rosé vinification.” Magnon’s Métisse couldn’t be a better example of this. It is simply divine.