Rosé was probably not what people expected next from Lacules.
We have never been particularly interested in following a trend simply because it is visible. In winegrowing, that would be difficult anyway. Vines do not move with fashion. Decisions made in the vineyard take years, sometimes decades, before they truly find expression.
And in many ways, Lacules does not naturally sit on the side of current trends. At a time when lightness, pale colour and lower alcohol often take centre stage, our wines speak in a different register: ripeness, concentration, structure. Not because we are trying to work against anything. But because we are trying to translate this place honestly.
Koroni is not a cool, restrained place. It is sun, warmth, stone, sea breeze and dry summers. It is a place where tomatoes do not simply turn red, but taste of summer. Where watermelons are not only sweet, but dense, ripe and full of flavour. That is the kind of ripeness we look for in our grapes as well. Not heaviness. But expression. Flavour. Origin.
The rosé began almost by accident.
It was not planned as an answer to a market trend, but came out of one of our cellar trials in 2024. Some parcels were vinified using the saignée method — the early drawing-off of juice from red grapes. After only a few minutes on the skins, just after destemming and crushing, the juice had already taken on a vivid pink colour. Ripe grapes, deep concentration, plenty of colour in the skins. Sometimes a wine shows very early that it has its own plans.
At first, we thought we might turn it into a sparkling wine for the family. Something small. Something for summer.
But during the first days of fermentation, it became clear that the wine was moving in another direction. More fragrant, more berry-driven, more powerful than we had expected. After fermentation, the decision was simple: this was not going to become sparkling wine.
There was very little of that first rosé. And it disappeared faster than we had expected.
In 2025, we wanted to see whether we could bring this direction into the bottle again. Not as a copy of the first vintage, but as the confirmation of an idea. It helps to have Jörg, a research chemist, in the cellar — someone who documents every detail carefully. Because sometimes repetition tells you whether something merely happened, or whether you have understood why it happened.
The 2025 Rosé is a blend of Grenache, Merlot and Avgoustiatis. Unusual at first glance, perhaps. For us, it says a lot about who we are: old Grenache and Merlot vines, brought together with a newly planted indigenous Greek variety. International and Greek. Established and new.
In the cellar, too, the wine stayed closer to red wine in spirit than to a very pale, cool-fermented rosé. Fermentation was allowed to run a little warmer. Afterwards, the wine went into used barriques — deliberately used, so the oak would not speak louder than the fruit. Regular bâtonnage brought creaminess, texture and a little more depth.
What fascinates us most about the 2025 vintage is its perceived sweetness. On paper, it is dry, with only around 1.6 grams of residual sugar. And yet on the palate it feels riper, rounder, almost sweeter than the analysis would suggest. That impression does not come from sugar. It comes from ripe fruit, extract and texture.
Perhaps this second vintage has convinced us even more. Not because it is identical. That would not be a meaningful goal in wine. But because it once again shows what we were looking for: ripe fruit, colour, creaminess and that closeness to red wine that makes it so interesting to us.
A rosé in the Lacules style.
It may be too much for a hot afternoon on the terrace, if what you are looking for is something very light. But it belongs at the table. With Mediterranean mezze, grilled vegetables, tomatoes, peppers, olives and creamy dips. With richer fish, grilled tuna, roast chicken, pork or veal. With food that has flavour of its own — and a wine with the structure and texture to match.
We call it a rosé for red-wine lovers because it stands closer to red wine than to the idea of a pale summer rosé. Not loud. But ripe, berry-driven, creamy and structured enough to carry a meal.
It was not made because rosé is in fashion.
It was made because a wine in the cellar suddenly showed us a direction of its own. And because we decided to follow it.
For those who would like to taste the rosé: the current vintage is available in small quantities.
