It’s time to talk about cool summer reds. Ron Emler says so. Emler is a veteran journalist who knows a great deal about wine. He e-mailed the editor a while ago suggesting I should be sacked for writing “pretentious drivel”.

I contacted him, and asked him to elaborate. He responded by slamming a column I’d devoted to rosés: “What is special about rosé and summer? While I don’t want to drink a full-bodied shiraz on a summer’s afternoon, the thought of a lightly chilled red Sancerre or Chinon is equally appealing.”

I couldn’t agree more. Standing at my kitchen sink tasting 20-odd rosés on a cold spring morning, trying to imagine what they would be like on a warm summer’s afternoon, is certainly less appealing than sipping a cool Chinon in a sun-dappled deckchair. So I’ve tasted a batch of light reds from the Loire, France’s longest river, which harbours all sorts of wines, including Sancerre and Chinon, and I have to say that they were a bit of a disappointment.

The trouble with the Loire is that, generally, the vineyards are too far north to be sure of getting healthily sun-ripened red grapes. At worst, they are picked by machine — unripe, ripe and rotten together. At best, they are picked by hand over several days to get each bunch at the perfect moment. That costs money and demands dedication; the wines from the most diligent growers and the sunniest sites are expensive.

The good thing about the Loire, however, is that — perhaps because of a stubborn local cussedness — it pulsates with small-scale vignerons who do things their own way, often organically. So, when buying Loire reds for a summer’s day, you have an interesting choice. You can pay £12 for a decent example of the classics: a fragrantly grassy Chinon (made from cabernet franc, which usually does better in Bordeaux) or a fragile Sancerre (pinot noir, happier in Burgundy). For a bit less you can have fun with a lighter-hearted wine imprinted with its maker’s quirkiness, or for a bit more try something unusual.

Emler, by the way, is now a friend. We’ve just met for lunch on a summer’s afternoon. What did we drink? A perfect white burgundy.

LIQUID HUNCHES

On s’en Bat les Couilles, Simonutti (£10)

Yes, that’s French slang for the title of the Sex Pistols’ only album (see Wikipedia if you’re too young). Made organically from gamay and pineau d’aunis, an old Loire variety, it’s smoky and fruity with a punkish tang of scrumpy. Delightful when you get to know it (theatreofwine.com).

Saint Pourçain La Ficelle, 2008 (£7.95)

From Yapp Brothers, the Loire specialists. It’s made from the burgundian grapes pinot noir and gamay, but its individuality says Loire. Pale red, fragrant and cool (www.yapp.co.uk).

La Guerrerie, Le Clos du Tue-Boeuf (£13.65)

Individualism taken to extremes by two brothers who stuffed it to the wine bureaucracy and made an unauthorised blend of gamay (again) and “cot” (which we know as malbec, of Argentinian fame). Pure, ripe, intense, delicious fruit (lescaves.co.uk).

What are you drinking? Tell me at wine@sunday-times.co.uk

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