Remember “Snapple-ization”? For a while
in the 1990s it was the pejorative du
jour in marketing, denoting a seemingly random
proliferation of flavors that creates enormous
retail clutter and consumer confusion in
the dubious quest for novelty. Never mind that
many of those extensions proved quite durable,
or that the Snapple folks were careful to prune
fading flavors that weren’t carrying their weight.
Still, the very existence of the term implied there
must be a problem out there worth combating.
These days, however, Snapple-ization no longer
is seen as a bogeyman, and not just because
of the waning influence of Snapple itself. Rather,
all the recent talk of high-end niches, mass
customization and long-tail distributions has
brought home the notion that choice, fundamentally,
is a good thing, and that the market
is the best arbiter of which innovations are
valuable and which aren’t.
Still, that principle can be hard to accept for
extensions that aren’t rooted in any sort of tradition
of flavor experimentation (as with candy or
ice cream). Since bottled iced tea burst on the
scene as a new phenomenon, Snapple had plenty
of latitude to experiment. But how about that
avalanche of flavored spirits we’ve been seeing?
By now, of course, we’re used to endless vodka
flavors, and other white spirits like rum have followed
closely behind. Lately, the phenomenon is
infiltrating other segments, from Scotch whisky,
with its variety of arcane barrel finishes, to tequila, where after decades of a narrowly defined
tequila-ness, a brand like Jose Cuervo now offers
us Oranjo, Citrico and Tropina flavors.
It’s no surprise what’s driving the activity:
a quest for greater shelf space, new cues that
might pull in consumers who have proved previously
resistant to the category, greater creativity
in concocting intriguing cocktails. They’re
devilishly accessible: while something inside me
still resists the necessity of flavored tequilas, even
though the Cuervo flavor I’ve tasted, Citrico, actually
was pretty good.
How do the experts feel? I checked in with
Tonya LeNell Smothers, of the remarkable
LeNell’s wine and spirits boutique in Redhook,
Brooklyn. Since the joint is only 500 square feet,
LeNell certainly has no need of 30 different flavors
of a given spirit to fill up her shelves, nor is
she ever lacking in more tradition-bound rarities
to keep her customers’ interest stoked. Yet she’s
unequivocal on the matter. “Choice is always
good,” she declared. “There’s always been novelty
products. They either have a flash and die
out or somehow, if they are lucky, become a part
of our iconography. Marketing can definitely influence
what folks think is worth drinking, but I
believe that in the end only the strong survive.”
In other words, let the market dictate the winners.
So bring ’em on! Traditionalist as I am in
Scotch whisky, I will confess to being enamored
of some of the experiments in barrel finishes,
which are partly intended to evoke the qualities
of wine and hence draw in new consumers, particularly
females. How can one resist Bruichladdich
Flirtation? Sure, its 20-year maturation
in Bourbon barrels and then Mouvedre wine
casks sounds finicky, but you can’t argue with
the result. (Okay, you can argue with the $200
a bottle price.) Smothers says she has a soft spot
for the Buffalo Trace Experimental Collection
(four bourbons aged in French oak barrels and
the like). At the same time, the Phillips Union
line of whiskeys in regular, vanilla and cherry flavors
drew a thumbs down from LeNell and her
patrons at a recent in-store tasting – too sweet.
(Though maybe not too sweet for the cosmo
crowd at which it’s clearly targeted?)
If you’re still not convinced that this is a
healthy trend, consider a couple of elements
of tradition that do support the rabid experimentation.
For one, recent years’ mixologist-ashero
stories have highlighted one of the pros’
favorite at-home pastimes: infusing spirits with
anything from tropical fruits to Earl Grey tea.
Hey, you never know! Or consider this: by now,
it’s hard to question the bona fides of that quintessential
American spirit, Southern Comfort.
Which, from what I can tell, is really peachflavored
bourbon.