Massa Vecchia Rosato

I’m dreaming of a profoundly pink Christmas. Let me elaborate.

Twas the night before the night before Xmas and nothing was stirring - not even a corkscrew. I don’t want to drink either a full-bodied red nor an aromatic white. I feel frivolous, but I still want to be slightly challenged. How about a chilled light red, or, in gob we trust, a cellar temperature, structured pink wine?

So many pink wines are bubbly confections with all the aromas and flavours of the tank. Fabrizio Niccolaini is a purist; his whites are amber-gold, his rosé is a red by any other name, his red wines are cloudy and rasping, and his sweet Aleatico is bitter, dry, sweet and sour at the same time. So live with the contradictions and unlearn the rules of wine, the vinous truth here has a beautiful fragility. “There is nothing more difficult for a truly creative painter than to paint a rose, because before he can do so he has first to forget all the roses that were ever painted.” (Henri Matisse who was evidently applying this aphorism to Fabrizio’s rosato)

The rosé is barely that, being a deep ruby-complexion’d blend of old vines Merlot and Malvasia Nera (of course). The nose is earthy and herbal: there’s fennel, eucalypt and red chicory, liquorice and cherry, and the mouth manages to be both soft and refreshing at the same time. As crazy volatile rosés go this is madder than Mad Jack McMad, the winner of this year’s Mr Madman competition.

You can sup this with growing delighted disbelief - as I did - or consume it with Tuscan specialties. Cacciucco, originally from Livorno, is a fish soup or rather a stew, thick, rich and black, which traditionally contains chilli and should be made with at least five kinds of fish – one for each of the c’s in cacciucco. Triglie alla Livornese (red mullet) is also popular on the northern stretch of coast, while further south the catch is grey mullet, which is usually simply grilled, as well as cuttlefish, squid and octopus. I prefer a more classic fish soup made from an intense stock, studded with mussels and served with rouille, gruyere and croutons. Failing that a garlicky, anchovy-laden pissaladière would hit the mark.

This tenebrous pink wine enjoys its gender confusion so much that it would also blithely trot with a turkey and gambol (or gander) with a goose.