Tickled pink?

So, come on then, what's wrong with rosé? Is it because it's pink, boys - and men don't drink pink drinks? Or are you remembering a first experience with Mateus? OK, in the past there was a lot of pallid pink around or, worse, it was horribly oxidised (too long on the shelves). But have you tasted rosé from Navarra lately? Strawberries and cream in a glass. Or rosé from Provence?

Admittedly, I needed some convincing about the latter. Much of what I'd tasted on holidays in the region was rather light in the fruit department and distinctly lacking in zip. It's hardly surprising - 300 days of sunshine mean a lot of sugar in the grapes and a constant battle with acidity levels.

But there has been a technological revolution in wine over the past few years, so surely things have improved? Just as white wines have benefited globally from the introduction of temperature control, so modern rosés are more crisp and fruity than they were.

But what of rosé from Provence? It easily makes up the bulk of wine production here, dominates French supermarket shelves and is glugged with abandon in restaurants from Montpellier to Marseilles. Provence invited its first group of British journalists to find out.

First up is Bandol, one of Provence's nine appellations - and its jewel, as it turns out. The star grape here is Mourvèdre, a workhorse grape that never headlines elsewhere but inexplicably shines in Bandol, dominating red blends made with Grenache and Cinsault.

"It's because of the humidity," explains Domaine de la Suffrene wine-maker, Cédric Gravier.

When the Provençal climate doesn't conspire, Bandol wine-makers step up their production of rosé, which they make from either Grenache and Cinsault, or, more typically and with more punch, from Mourvèdre.

Domaine de la Suffrene's rosé is a good example. "Rosé made with Mourvèdre is fruitier and it stands up to food better," says Gravier.

There follows a line-up of AOC Bandol rosé at neighbour Domaine de L'Hermitage. It's a disappointing line-up, rather unexciting and lacking in fruit. Oh dear. "Provence is living up to its reputation that its rosés aren't up to much," mutters fellow traveller, master of wine John Downes.

As the sun sets in a marvellous shade of salmon, we talk rosé with Bandol producer Luc de Saint Victor, of Château de Pibarnon. His rosé has more kick than most. "Rosé is important for us here," he says, "although we would rather make more red than rosé."

Why? Well, Bandol is better at making red wine than rosé. And it's a money thing. Average price for a bottle of Provence rosé is about £3.49. There is far more profit, and medals, in Bandol's pricier reds.

Even the French see Bandol through rosé-coloured spectacles. "The rest of the country just thinks Provence is all about rosé," shrugs Bandol producer Walter Gilpin, of Domaine Vivonne. Bandol's 1998 production was split 59% rosé, 36% red and 5% white.

The French love rosé, you see. Consumption practically doubled in the 1990s, with most of the glugging done pre-dinner. In 1998 almost 50% of French households drank rosé at home, as opposed to a third in 1995. The Germans are rather partial to pink, as are the Swiss, Belgians, Danes, Dutch and North Americans.

Not so the English. While rosé sales are rising here, the figures are nothing to get excited about. The disgruntled director of the Comité Interprofessionel des Vins Côtes de Provence, Franoçis Millo, is so despondent about the lack of response in the UK to Provenáal rosé that he has spent most of his marketing budget on the region's reds.

On the second day of our visit we move on to the Coteaux Varois. This is a relatively new appellation in Provence, gaining status in 1993. Again, rosé production dominates (at 67%), followed by red (30%).

The vineyards here, on clay and limestone soils, are higher than most, between 300m and 500m above sea level. Summers are warm, winters dry and cold, with harvesting going into October. There are 65 Coteaux Varois producers, who sell the majority of their wines to (French) supermarkets, the rest is soaked up by restaurants. They've just begun to export.

The reds, and a fair few Coteaux Varois whites, fare surprisingly well in the tasting, among them a stunning 1996 blended red from Domaines des Alysses and a 1999 Rolle/Sémillon from Domaine du Loou, both as yet unavailable in the UK.

But there are slim pickings among the rosés. "See?" mumbles Downes, with a grimace.

Things look up after a visit to Domaines des Chaberts, run by Englishwoman Betty Cundall. She cuts a dash in her pink towelling shell suit with pearl appliqué, and a poodle that never leaves her side. "A good rosé must have excellent fruit, first and foremost," she says. "You have to maintain the cold temperature during fermentation, and you must keep the taste of the grapes.

"Colour is very important, too. Rosé must be pale - but not too pale," she adds, remembering a blush wine she produced a year ago which didn't go down so well with her customers.

Her 1999 Cuvée Prestige from 30-year-old Grenache and Cinsault vines is a stunner. It is made using the saignée (meaning "bled") method, an increasingly used technique of running off - or bleeding - some of the free-run juice from just-crushed red grapes after a short pre-fermentation maceration. Result? A fuller-flavoured rosé.

Day three, and we're in Côtes de Provence country, the biggest of the region's appellations and the sixth largest in France. There are 14 co-operatives turning out 13 million bottles a year, 20% of which are exported all over the world, although not to the UK.

An earnest tasting presented by Antoine Escartin, of the Caves de Provence co-operative, doesn't bode well for the bottom end of the market. Out of a line-up of reds, whites and rosés - presumably the best of the bunch - we found ourselves, once again, with nothing positive to say about Provence rosé.

The cloud lifts after a visit to the Maison du Vin de Côtes de Provence, an impressive showcase for the appellation's wines, run by Jean-Jacques Benetti.

There were 20 wines available to taste. We tried eight. All but one got the thumbs up, the best being a rosé from Château Pampelonne.

"There's been a change in style of Provence rosé over the last few years," says Benetti. "The traditional onion-skin, peachy colour has made way for a more fashionable baby pink."

Baby pink best describes Château Sainte Roséline's rosé. It is one of the region's 18 cru classé properties, whose owner Bernard Teillaud is an ardent follower of fashion, his Jean-Michel Wilmotte-designed home elegantly stuffed with pricey modern art.

He wants to challenge the perception of rosé as the cheap, cheerful glug. Although rosé is generally drunk young - up to a year after bottling - Teillaud believes it can improve with a little bottle age. His 1997 Cuvée Prieure, at Ffr72 (£6.89), is a delicious blend of Syrah, Mourvèdre and Tiboren, vinified and aged in new oak. "The wood gives it a certain structure," says Teillaud. "I think rosé can be a serious wine."

Selling it is another matter. Those in the know snap up the 10,000 or so bottles made, but exporting a posh rosé is out of the question, says Teillaud - "Rosé is seen as a cheap wine."

Last year's harvest was a difficult one for rosé in Provence: stems were thick, and tannins were on the chewy side. "And we don't want tannin in rosé," says Commanderie de Peyrassol's Françoise Rigord. "No, this was a year for the reds," she says.

Maybe Millo is right. On balance, Provence's reds, and even a few whites, are favoured over most of the rosés at our tasting, although, chosen carefully, there's still a case for thinking pink.