You are in a scorching hot place, with the sun radiating off of the sea and the rocks. Fortunately, you are underneath an umbrella ocean-side in the south of France. And you are eating a bouillabaisse, full of seafood straight from the ocean, a lovely saffron broth, and a piece of toast (yea, a crouton) slathered with a garlicky homemade mayo.

And you are drinking a dry, ice-cold rose from Bandol. Possibly this one:

2003 Domaine La Suffrene

Wow, does that mean suffering? Or that the grapes suffer in the sun and wind, to be turned into an exquisitely dry wine that begs for food?