One of the most important and delicious developments in Australian gastron­omy over the past decade or so has been the proliferation of locally produced pale, dry rosé wines modelled loosely on the gorgeous pale, dry rosé of Provence.

Yes, I know this is a big call (“One of the most important developments in gastronomy”? Seriously?), but I’m sticking to it: pale, dry rosé produced from fine-flavoured grapes such as pinot noir is a fantastically food-friendly drink that speaks of sophistication and cultural maturity. But as much as I love the style, a pale, dry rosé would be absolutely rubbish with this dish. Just think about it. Tangy buttermilk and hot spice in the marinade. Slow char-grilling. Tomatoes, chipotle chillies and garlic… Hellooo! An effete, oh-so-pale pinot rosé wouldn’t stand a chance against that massive wall of flavour bearing down on your tongue.

No, what’s needed is a deep magenta-coloured old-school Aussie rosé with balls: bouncy red berries, smooth ’n’ sweet fruitiness and maybe some grippy tannins to round the whole thing off. A pink wine that’s almost but not quite a red. And served really cold, too, in capacious tumblers. No place for fancy crystal stemware here, thank you very much.