When Taste Is a Moving Target

A couple of years ago, before governments had more important things to worry about, a vodka war raged within the European Union. The "vodka belt" countries of central and eastern Europe and Scandinavia declared that the spirit could be made only from grain or potatoes. A Finnish-backed proposal in the European Parliament sought to block distillers in the Netherlands, the United Kingdom and France from calling their spirits "vodka" if they used nontraditional ingredients, such as fruit. The stakes were not small. Vodka, after all, is a $12 billion worldwide industry.

In the end, the upstart nations prevailed, and they continue to sell their spirits as vodka. "Vodka War Lost," read the headline in the Warsaw Voice. "Would the French like champagne to be distilled from plums, and would the British accept whisky from apricots?" scoffed one Polish parliamentarian, who vowed to fight on.

Normally, stuff like this gets blamed on Americans. So it was a small relief -- a pleasure, really -- to see the French get dragged into the fray. As they should have been. Some of the biggest names in the vodka business -- Grey Goose, Citadelle, Ciroc -- are produced around the legendary French distilling town of Cognac. To be fair, Grey Goose (created in 1997 specifically for the American market) and Citadelle are made with a traditional ingredient, wheat. But Ciroc and others use grapes in the distilling process.

One can only imagine what sort of war France might wage if someone started bottling and selling a "cognac" from, say, West Virginia (perhaps made from ramps).

In last week's column I described my interactions with two high-end cognac distillers who were skeptical of younger drinkers' use of cognac for cocktails rather than for after-dinner spirit sipping. Others in Cognac also expressed unease. "I'm concerned about the future of cognac," said Véronique Reboul, who with her husband, Alain, grows wine grapes for several large cognac producers. "The younger generation is more interested in vodka. They perceive cognac to be Granddad's alcohol. They perceive it to be expensive."

Throughout France, I heard the same theme: that a new generation is changing the way spirits are sold and consumed. I heard it while visiting the Grand Chartreuse monastery in the Alps, where Carthusian monks who've taken a vow of silence have been producing the herbal elixir since the 17th century. Claire, the college student who was my tour guide (and who was dressed in, yes, a chartreuse-colored business suit) told me Chartreuse was having a surge in popularity at her university in Grenoble. The maker often sponsors parties thrown by the students. But the students certainly were not sipping it as a digestif, as their grandparents did: "Among young people, Chartreuse is almost always served in cocktails. Never by itself."

And what's the most popular spirit among kids her age? "Vodka, of course," she said.

Vodka, however, is only the tip of the iceberg. While in Cognac, I visited EuroWineGate, which most notably produces G'Vine gins as well as vodka. Company director Jean-Sébastien Robicquet is representative of a new generation of distillers who are trying to stay a step ahead of critics and trends. Robicquet worked for Hennessey and Hine before moving into white spirits and developing Ciroc. Five years ago, as the vodka market became saturated, he saw an opportunity with gin, which also can be made from varying ingredients.

G'Vine uses green grape flowers, which were being snipped from the vine while I was there, as part of its botanical infusion. That goes against both the ginmaking and wine-grape traditions in Cognac. The Rebouls were among the first vineyard owners to allow G'Vine to use their flowers. "I was under a confidentiality agreement, so I didn't say anything," Alain Reboul said. "But this is a very small town, and my neighbors were curious and were spying on me. The rumor was that I'd been working for a cosmetic company!"

The first G'Vine gin, Floraison, relied heavily on floral notes. Influential spirits critic F. Paul Pacult published a positive four-out-of-five-stars review but wrote that he wished the distiller would "elevate the alcohol level" and "tone down the floral aspects one notch." So Robicquet adjusted the recipe for his second gin, the wonderful new Nouaison, which has a stronger juniper kick. "Pacult said we needed more juniper and a higher alcohol content. So we gave it to him. We've left him no choice but to give us five stars," he said with a wink.

Now, of course, the gin market is swiftly becoming saturated, and Robicquet is already brainstorming in different spirit categories. "All the know-how is grouped here in Cognac," he said. "People here know how to distill, how to bottle, how to express the greatest qualities of a product. If they can do it with cognac, there's no reason why they can't do it with any other spirit."

During my visit, Robicquet was checking out an experiment involving merlot grape flowers. After several attempts, he'd finally been able to extract the flavor he wanted. The success moved him nearly to tears, and he broke out champagne for his staff. "What will you do with this?" I asked. "Make another vodka?"

"No," he said.

"A gin?"

"No."

"An aperitif?"

"Who knows?" he said. "Something new."

Jason Wilson can be reached at jason@tablematters.comor food@washpost.com.