BEAUJOLAIS EXCITEMENT WANING; ANNUAL RELEASE IN PARIS STIRS MIXED PASSIONS.

Byline: Marilyn August Associated Press 

The century's final vintage of Beaujolais Nouveau went on sale Thursday in Paris amid signs the cheeky young wine is losing some of its pulling power at home.

The costumed bartenders who once uncorked the new wine at crowded parties on the Champs-Elysees have all but vanished, and promotional campaigns in wine shops and supermarkets were the most subdued in years.

``There's definitely less excitement this year, but if you offer people a good Beaujolais, they'll drink it,'' said brasserie owner Pierre Romieu as he filled a customer's glass to the brim for a mere $1.15.

``This year it's much better than previous ones that tasted like bananas.''

Once front-page news, the wine's annual release, on the third Thursday in November, was relegated this year to the inside pages of the city's major dailies.

In Britain, however, the wine inflamed passions - but for reasons of politics, not palate.

Sky Television showed British farmers pouring Beaujolais down the drain and calling for a nationwide boycott in retaliation for France's refusal to lift a ban on British beef. They urged a British Beef and Beer Day instead.

Jacques Melac, owner of a Paris wine bar in the working class 11th district who bought 1,800 bottles for a party Thursday night, scoffed at events across the Channel.

``They are jealous because they have no wine. It's raining all the time, and they are sad,'' he said. ``What do they have? Pudding and beer! What do we have? We've got Beaujolais!

``The people of the Beaujolais region are calling them the mad cows,'' he added, referring to bovine spongiform encephalapathy, or mad cow disease, which infected some British beef in 1996, leading the European Union to impose a worldwide ban.

Melac said this year's Beaujolais was top quality, ``with the flavor of cranberries and raspberries.''

Given its worldwide popularity, it may be too soon to call Beaujolais Nouveau a bust.

The unpretentious, inexpensive red wine - made from young Gamay grapes picked less than two months before bottling - remains one of France's most popular exports.

After its release in France, the wine is rushed by sea, land and air to far-flung corners of the globe, including Japan, which imported 400,000 cases this year.

In 1998, Beaujolais Nouveau exports reached $62 million, with Germany topping the list of foreign consumers. Britain imported about 2.2 million bottles.

But a random sample of bars, cafes and brasseries in a business district behind the Champs-Elysees showed waning enthusiasm among regulars.

``I used to sell my first glass of Beaujolais at 9 a.m., but today, we poured the first glass at noon,'' said Rene Bourel, owner of a traditional cafe.

When it comes to Beaujolais, the French put aside their gourmet pretensions and defer to tradition.

``No matter what it tastes like, I'll still drink it,'' said Jean-Yves Pointeau, a decorator. ``It's a French tradition.''

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2 photos

Photo: (1 -- color) George Duboeuf, a k a the king of Beaujolais, delivers the first case of his wine to Waldorf Astoria.

Richard Drew/Associated Press

(2 -- color) Ben Gill, president of National Farmers Union, pours Beaujolais Nouveau down the drain outside a pub in central London.

Matthew Fearn/Associated Press