"Sommelier! Another Well-Chilled Bottle of Château apple Dapple, S'il Vous Plaît!"

for those without grape expectations, today's pop wines provide an easy-does-it change of pace

We Americans are soaking up wine at a faster rate than ever before--305,000,000 gallons this past year, a smart 90 percent increase in the past decade. Conservative Bank of America prognosticators figure that, collectively, we'll be knocking back better than 600,000,000 gallons per annum by 1980--which would make it a very good year, indeed! You'd expect that this new-found devotion to Bacchus would enchant the vinophiles, who've been relentlessly urging us cultural heathens to get with the grape. Well, that's not quite the way it is. You see, a hefty proportion of the increased guzzling is in such arriviste categories as flavored wines, fruit wines, cold ducks and numerous effervescent spin-offs of that frigid fowl. There are those--snobs and ritualists--who wail about this new development. To them, the wine game is all. They revel in the swirling and sniffing, the macher or ceremonial rolling on the tongue, the everlasting discussion of vintages and "finds" from little offbeat châteaux. If that's your bag, then pop wines won't make it with you, because the word for them is uncomplicated. The true sophisticate knows how to enjoy both--the new and the traditional. For there is a place for both in the life we lead today. A Wall Street Journal story, "Watch Out, Burgundy, Here Come Spanada, Zapple and I Love You," offers these pertinent consumer comments: "This is good stuff for a party. It's much cheaper than hard liquor and you don't get bombed on a couple of drinks... . We just pour a lot of it into a bowl and we have an instant punch. There's no work." That about sums up the appeal of pop wines. They're easy to take, easy to serve, informal sipping or entertainment beverages. Ice does a lot for them; so do a splash of soda and two or three slices of fresh fruit. They're good mixers, especially the ones with a fruit base. At a recent tasting, one young participant confided modestly, "The secret ingredient in my famous punch is Bali Hai." Now the secret's out.

A great deal of the enthusiasm for pop wines comes from what Casey Stengel called "the yout' of America." Contemporary wines are gregarious. You'll see them being poured poolside, dockside or en bateau--in posh surroundings as well as at peace rallies and campus rap sessions, where they are giving beer a run for your money. At ski resorts, the sangria types are warmed with cinnamon and served in mugs. But there's no question that the under-25 consumer has led the swing to contemporary wines, and he is still the primary wine-industry target, because he's not bound to the conventional manners and mores surrounding wine.

Some people, including a few in the trade, maintain that flavored wines, fruit wines and the new sparkling wines are just a fad and will pass into limbo, like the Hula-Hoop. No way, says Joseph McDonald, Canandaigua Industries' marketing man. "Today's 'pop' wines or others like them will become America's vins ordinaires." And they'll be with us for many years to come, because they fill a niche in our hedonistic life style in a way that is singularly American. This is not to imply that contemporary wines can or should ever take the place of table wines. The seasoned winebibber, with a nose for lusty Burgundies, château-bottled Bordeaux or aged Cabernet Sauvignons, crisp brut champagnes and flinty Chablis, will certainly continue to seek out and savor their many-faceted delights. More than likely, he will be joined in his quest by many whose first pleasurable encounter with the fermented grape was Spanada, Key Largo, Aquarius, Yago Sant'Gria or Richards Wild Irish Rose. And, no doubt, they'll launch wine prices farther into the stratosphere in the process.

The Internal Revenue Code defines Special Natural wines as products made from a base of natural wine exclusively, with the addition of natural herbs, spices, fruit juices, aromatics, essences and other natural flavorings. Sounds like a canny modern caper, right? In fact, the practice of flavoring wines is ancient. As far back as you can go, there are records of men trying to improve or vary the flavor of their wines with such hoary aromatics as myrrh, lovage, maidenhair fern, balm, horehound, grains of paradise and other suggestively titled botanicals. Don't let the names fool you. Neither the herbals nor the wines they embellished were in any way aphrodisiac.

Vintners have never abandoned the custom of flavoring wines, to lend piquancy or savor or, on occasion, to mask taste. In France, flavored wines are called aperitifs, which seems to impart a suave Continental cachet in our eyes. Along with Dubonnet, the most glamorous, there are Byrrh, Lillet, St. Raphaël and literally dozens more--all grape wines with natural flavors added. In Greece, the popular wine is retsina--flavored with resin--a drink that only a Spartan could love. Germans and Austrians steep their young white wines with waldmeister (woodruff) and call them May wines. Vermouth is probably the most universal flavored wine. Producers boast of having upwards of 25 different herbs, spices, barks, seeds, roots and aromatics in their "secret" formulas. It would seem that American vintners are Johnny-come-latelies to the flavored-wine field.

What, then, is so special about our Special Natural wines? Simply this: They were created to please the American palate. The flavors added are those we've known since childhood and that have been accepted and enjoyed in this country for generations. The new wines first hit liquor-store shelves in 1957 and came in a mind-blowing assortment of popular flavors and hues. There were cherries, colas, lemon-limes, oranges, chocolates, mints, you name it--just about everything but candy cane and chicken fat. In the main, the wines were relatively sweet--though hardly as sweet as ports and olorosos. The flavors were frank and forthright, with very little subtlety, occasionally harsh, and fairly potent--most running to 20 percent alcohol, about the same as dessert wines and European aperitifs.

The new flavored wines seemed to be an instant smash, reaching a healthy 14,000,000-gallon annual figure by 1964. And there they leveled off. Though the "pops" were intriguing and lots of people were interested enough to sample them, they didn't appear to have broad appeal. Apparently they were too close to the soda-pop image that inspired their nickname. The most faithful flavored-wine customers were what the liquor retailers euphemistically call the "proof per penny" crowd--those who measure the amount of kick against dollar cost. But the door had been opened. This limited success finally convinced vintners that they would do better formulating wines that appealed to the indigenous taste buds than by trying to transform existing tastes along Old World lines.

There were some pretty good indications. The unabashedly pop flavors such as the straight colas, chocolates and larger-than-life rock wines were falling by the wayside and have pretty much disappeared by now. Fruit-flavored Bali Hai and fruity Ripple, familiar and somewhat muted flavors--both at a low level of alcohol--were faring well. So the boys went back to the drawing board.

After a five-year period of gestation, phase two of the pop phenomenon materialized. If the original flavored wines were a revelation, the second coming was closer to a revolution. As a group, they're considerably lighter, smoother and lower in alcohol by almost half--generally running between nine and 14 percent, as opposed to the 20 percent formerly marketed. Many are slightly effervescent--no dancing bubbles, just the merest prickle on the tongue. The sensory range is much wider, combinations being both more complex and more subtle, with lemon, lime and orange tones predominating. There are the citrusy sangria types; wines touched with exotic tropical fruit such as guava, mango and passion fruit; and there are wines flavored with cranberry, strawberry, tangerine and such nonfruits as almond, cinnamon, mint and coffee. Even the old hot-shots have been restyled. Thunderbird is now also available at 13 percent alcohol, Silver Satin and Swiss Up are now also available at 14 percent. Silver Satin also has a companion, Silver Satin / Bitter Lemon. A detailed chart on page 190 lists the specific properties and characteristics of many of the brands.

Perhaps the most significant departure in phase two is the emergence of non-grape, or fruit, wines--the apples, pears, pineapples, peaches, apricots, plums, currants, cherries and the numerous berries. Most of these are technically not Special Natural wines. Their flavors come from, and are remarkably true to, the fruits from which they are made; no added flavors. They seem to capture the essence of the fruit and are immediately identifiable. As with the flavored wines, they're not the choice to accompany a prime rib roast or beef Wellington, but with a fresh-fruit dessert, or in a shoes-off situation, they're just right. At least one vintner, San Martin of California, puts out sparkling fruit wines--an Aprivette (apricot) and a Cham-berry (blackberry).

The apple types are far and away the biggest factor in the category. Boone's Farm alone reputedly laid 6,000,000 cases of the stuff on the populace in the past 12 months. Zapple--with a sprinkle of cinnamon--Apple Dapple, Richards Old Style Apple Wine and Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill (apple flavored with strawberry) are among the apple brands contributing to the acute shortage of this plain Jane of the orchard. Major (continued on page 188)Château Apple Dapple(continued from page 152) wineries are roaming farther and farther in their search for suitable and sufficient fruit, and have even begun to import apples from abroad.

As with the flavored wines, fruit wines as a category are certainly not new. Denmark, Czechoslovakia and Holland are noted for their berry and cherry wines, Japan for a soft plum wine and England for its perry--pear wine.

Kosher fruit wines and the sweet, grapy Passover wines may have triggered our modern wine revolution; at least some astute observers believe so. In the early Fifties, before the first flavored wines appeared, kosher wines became suddenly and inexplicably popular. Investigation revealed that 85 percent of kosher-wine sales were going to the non-Jewish market.

Whatever the genesis--and certainly there are myriad influences, including our penchant for sweet, fruity beverages--the broad spectrum of flavor and type available today is unprecedented and continually expanding. Witness cold duck, the frothy, pink, moderately sweet wine that has literally swept the country.

Just a few years ago, cold duck was something you ate; today it's almost as popular as champagne. Cold duck is, in fact, an artful or awful blend of champagne and sparkling Burgundy, depending on your predilections and prejudices. It's come on so suddenly that there still is not a precise definition; however, there are some de facto standards. The product must consist of champagne and sparkling Burgundy in roughly equal proportions and must be some shade of pink. The Feds won't grant approval to an artificially carbonated beverage nor to one that's either white or solid red.

There are several anecdotes, probably all apocryphal, purporting to explain the origin of cold duck. The latest one credits it to the hard-living, hard-drinking Scott Fitzgerald clan of expatriates in Paris. Their Saturday-night bashes invariably featured roast duck, washed down with buckets of champagne and sparkling Burgundy. Sunday luncheon, legend has it, consisted of the leftover wines mixed together and the remains of the bird--"cold duck" all around.

In Germany, cold duck (Kalte Ente) is well known as a white-wine punch. Chilled Moselle or Rhine is slowly poured over a long, thin strip of lemon rind, followed by chilled Sekt, German sparkling wine. The rind is held over a large pitcher braced by two forks and is discarded after the pouring.

The first commercial cold duck, bottled in New York, had a marked labrusca-grape tang. This is the native, Concord-type Eastern variety, used in the kosher wines, and it's no coincidence that both wines have come into favor. Many people find these fragrant wines, reminiscent of grape juice, very pleasant. Often, first-time tasters are thrown off because overeager retailers represent cold duck as a form of champagne, which it is not. It's generally sweeter, not as light nor as delicate. Ducks are much more flavorful, especially the Eastern brands, with their marked labrusca cast. Many from California have at least a touch of labrusca, too.

Ducks are proliferating--with quite a few winging in from overseas. K. C. Bourke, wine savant and editor of the authoritative British bimonthly Wine magazine, indicates that the traffic is not all one way, to the surprise of European vintners. She compares the ducks with sparkling perry, "phenomenally successful" in England. Both products, she feels, "fulfill a need on the part of numerous people for an uncomplicated, sweet, fresh, fruity drink, not too alcoholic, not too expensive, easy to quaff on all occasions."

We've found that cold duck does more for a punch than champagne; it mixes nicely with orange juice, cognac or vodka.

The array of cold ducks on the shelves is so vast, and constantly changing, that it's impractical to rate them all; but there are a few guidelines that will help you bring down the duck of your choice. Firms that are noted for their champagnes will usually have better-quality cold ducks: Christian Brothers (Extra Cold Duck), Paul Masson (Very Cold Duck), Korbel and Almaden (Le Domaine) in California; Taylor, Gold Seal and Great Western (Pink Cold Duck) in New York. Christian Brothers' Extra Cold Duck is among the driest. There are, of course, many other fine brands. André is about as good as you can do in a low-cost duck, and it's consistent. Eastern bottlings tend to a greater labrusca flavor. The imports are usually quite sweet and lower in alcoholic content, some as little as nine percent. American ducks go between nine and 13 percent.

Much of the preceding information can be gleaned from the labels. Read them before you buy. And be alert to the fliers that sound like ducks but aren't, like Peacock, Cold Turkey, Cold Bear and Cold Bird. They may be worthy specimens; they're just not cold duck. However, Waikiki Duck and Orange Duck, even though they are flavored, like the Special Naturals, are true cold ducks.

Considering all we've seen so far, you wouldn't think there'd be room for anything new. But there's activity in the vineyards--East, West and in between. The flow of new wines, new flavors and revamped old favorites will continue. Exactly what's coming? Nobody knows for sure, but here's a fairly educated guess: For one thing, contemporary wines will have more effervescence. (There's presently a bill in Congress to increase the allowable level from seven pounds pressure to 14 pounds, without going into the higher tax category for sparkling wines.) New flavors will continue to emphasize the fruits, straight or as a mélange. Expect to see more pure fruit wines such as loganberry and blackberry, in lighter, low-alcohol versions.

As grapes become more expensive, we may have a surge of neutral, fruit-based wines with natural fruit or fruit and spice flavors added. A tomato or tomato-flavored wine would certainly make an agreeable predinner aperitif, if a good one could be developed.

Maybe the most delightful aspect of the entire new deal in wines has nothing to do with the wines themselves but is in the feeling about them. People who are into contemporary wines aren't paralyzed by concern about the right wine with the right dish, correct preparation and pouring, proper appointments--the whole gourmet number. This allows wine to be handled casually--a pleasant, easygoing beverage with a somewhat mild lift that requires no special occasion. You take it when and how you like, just for the fun of it. And that's nice.

Playboy's guide to pop wines