Typically a combination of rosé, lemon juice, sugar, frozen strawberries, and vodka, frosé apparently best suits full-flavored, full-bodied, dark-colored rosé.
The New Yorker featured a brilliant piece on frosé. The notion was introduced to the world in 1862, when Jerry Thomas penned "How to Mix Drinks," the first cocktail book. Thomas pioneered the Catawba Cobbler (harnessing the magical powers of pink wine)... and so it began.
I loved the author Troy Patterson's elegant rendering of frosé:
Having sloshed briskly to distinction as the fashionable drink of the summer, frosé lingers on the cultural palate as the season wanes, its easy-going portmanteau still buzzing the lips of trend-seekers, its icy bite still searing cranial nerves. The concept is beautifully low, so low as to come soaring out the other side, all-conquering: wine slush. To follow frosé’s journey to prominence is to court fantastical visions of great pink chunks of drift ice floating from the tasting rooms of Sonoma and the brunches of Bridgehampton into the ocean system and, inexorably, into New York Harbor.
Tracing back to rosé's popularity, I found a stunning repository of cultural indicators on social media. #roseallday yields 600,000 posts on Instagram. Frosé popsicles make grand appearances on countless feeds. In 2017, Nielsen found that rosé sales rose 53% in the U.S., while wine sales overall increased by 4%.
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