With rosé consumption on the rise, Gary Rose visits the vineyards of Bandol, Provence, to see what the fuss is about.
I’m not here to see France’s second-largest city though  I’m passing through en route to Toulon, 50 minutes’ drive to the east along the Côte d’Azur, where I’ve been invited to visit the Royal Princess cruise ship. But before I get my sea legs on, I plan to exercise my wine legs on one of the vineyard excursions you can take from the ship.
The tour company showing me around is called Bandol Wine Tours and my guide is an affable Englishman called Richard, originally from Kensington. He kinda reminds me of Hugh Grant, and I enjoy the way he perpetuates the Englishman-on-the-Riviera stereotype: genial, gentlemanly, slightly awkward.
“The food exudes the essence of Provence,” says the Michelin Guide about this place. “Fresh ingredients, capably prepared.” It’s not the most gushing endorsement, but then Le Bistrot de Jef doesn’t charge the earth either. You can get lunch for 20 Euro here, and it’s well worth the cash.
“Bandol is known for its rosé,” Richard tells me over my fish course, as I slurp down one from Domaine Lou Capelan. “It’s always been a big wine town, with an appellation dating back to the 1940s.
The Romans made wine there, and mourvèdre is now the main grape variety. The grapes are all hand-picked, because machines can’t access the crooked vines and steep slopes around here. All the wines are organic… and hangover free, which can be a bit dangerous.”
I decide that in the name of journalistic altruism I should put this to the test by trying as many as possible at our first vineyard, La Garenne. It’s a dirty job…
The family’s Alsatian dogs frolic in the fields as I inspect the tiny, nascent mourvèdre grapes, before being dwarfed by the oak barrels in the 150-year-old cellar. Then it’s on to the salon de degustation (three of my favourite words) where the rosé flows like, erm… wine.
Made with a blend of mourvèdre, grenache and cinsault, the ones I try are all rich and complex, with white-fruit aromas and (to my nose, at least) a hint of white pepper. Beatrix tells me they export about 30 per cent of it, but she doesn’t tell me where you can buy it in the UK. Looks like you’ll have to try an online search or, even better, a personal visit to Bandol.
Half-a-dozen samples later, I wobble contentedly out into the spring sunshine and it’s on to Domaines Bunan, where they boast about their wines being available in Marks and Spencer.
As in any winery, the tapestry of fields is juxtaposed with incomprehensible machinery and echoey steel vats, incarcerated like robotic zoo animals in rustic barns. As I’m shown around, I hear about the local terroir  a well-drained, hilly terrain with high-limestone soil, where the acidity levels are balanced by the humidity of the sea breeze.
I taste award-winning red, rosé and white, all of superior quality. “What do you taste?” The lady serving me asks about the white. “Des pommes?” I guess, sheepishly. “NON!” she barks. “Pamplemousse (grapefruit)!” That’s me told. Still, it’s always good to hear a French person say the word “pamplemousse”, even in the context of a minor rollocking.
Gary also writes for the wine, food and travel blog www.wineninjas.org (@thewineninjas on Twitter and Instagram).
His trip to Bandol was hosted by Princess Cruises and Bandol Wine Tours.