FORECAST:

The outlook is rosé

My father is a Harvard-educated economist and a Jew of the highest moral order, who believes it is what a man leaves behind him on this earth — from offspring to good works — that determines his worth.

He’s also wont to say things such as: “I believe that, in his heart, George W. Bush just wants to do what’s best for our country.” and “I don’t care if gay people want some sort of civil union, but they shouldn’t call it marriage.” and “No scientist has proved to my satisfaction that global warming even exists.”

I love, admire, and respect my Dad. But on most issues, we’re simply going to have to disagree. Violently.

And so it is with Bill Summerville, partner and wine expert at La Belle Vie. (Well, except for the love part. Sorry, Bill, I just don’t feel we’ve gotten that close.) Summerville is one of those ridiculously young culinary savants [he wouldn’t disclose his age, but when I guessed he was in his 30’s, the bartender guffawed] who got into the business via D’Amico and has shot straight up through the ranks. At Solera — Tim McKee and Josh Thoma’s other restaurant — Summerville was staff: a front of the house man who put together a wine list made up mostly of Spanish wines. When the partners moved LBV from Stillwater to Minneapolis in late 2005, they promoted Summerville. A good move.

He’s confident and well-dressed — like one of those guys who runs the dining room in a Gregory Peck film — and he knows his stuff. But Summerville is wont to say things like: “Robert Parker favors these wines with gobs of hedonistic fruit so his descriptions don’t mean anything.” and “As you become more sophisticated, you go from appreciating big wines such as Zinfandel to liking lighter, more ‘feminine’ wines like Burgundy.” and “In the summertime a red is too heavy; real wine lovers drink rosé.”

I’m not saying Summerville is 100 percent wrong, but I happen to disagree on all counts. I concur with Parker eight times out of ten. Anyone who’s been reading this blog knows that I adore a big, sexy Zin. And if it’s 95, I’ll just move inside to drink it. I like a lot of whites, too. But rosés? Frankly, most of them take me back to junior high and strawberry lip smackers. They have that eau de Bonne Bell.

Yet, I’m always willing to rethink my opinions. Not about gay rights or global warming, but about wine.

So I sat down with Summerville to taste several pinkish varieties. And one of them — I have to admit — was interesting. I could drink this with a spicy paella or a really meaty fish. The Chateau Grande Cassagne Costieres de Nimes; I would give you a link but I’m damned if I can find the winery’s site. It’s a Rhone blend with a rubier color than most, a fruity scent, and the oddly admirable taste of wet shale on the flat of the tongue. This wine has character: a long, sort of starchy finish and a mystical, herbal echo in the mouth.

Remember, too, that Summerville has a bunch of other rosés he’d love to have you try. In fact, he’ll pour you a flight of four for $10. And given the sumptuous Man in the Gray Flannel Suit quality of the La Belle Vie bar, that’s quite a deal.