CULTURE : Vodka Czar’s Name at Center of Brewhaha

Applying the Russian word vodka to made-in-America grain alcohol seems blasphemous to Boris Smirnov. His fleshy lips pursed disdainfully, Smirnov derides American vodka as bitter, rough and entirely unsuitable for serious drinking.

“American vodka is made for American tastes--it’s not pure and it has a strong smell,” the 34-year-old entrepreneur says with a dismissive air. “If Russians drink it at all, it’s only to cure headaches the morning after a binge.”

But when they’re bingeing, downing shot after shot in neat gulps, real Russians drink real vodka--which, by Smirnov’s definition, means Russian vodka. Strong or double-strength, bitter or spicy, straight or flavored with berries, hot peppers, buffalo grass or lemon, “no one can make vodka better than the Russians,” Smirnov declares. “After all, it’s our national dish.”

This sense of heritage--plus a keen awareness of the vast, profitable market for vodka in the former Soviet Union--has spurred Smirnov into battle with one of the biggest names in the business, the American label Smirnoff.

Armed with 300 of his ancestors’ recipes for grain alcohol, three decrepit distilleries and a folder of papers proving his lineage from famous Russian vodka czar Pyotr A. Smirnov, Boris Smirnov has set out to launch an “authentic” version of Smirnov vodka in the land that created the potent beverage seven centuries ago.

Yet Smirnov’s dreams of flooding his thirsty country with vodka bearing his surname have aroused the wrath of the Pierre Smirnoff Co., the Hartford, Conn.-based firm responsible for marketing Smirnoff vodka in 117 countries. Smirnoff executives say their company bought the secret Smirnov family recipe--and the right to use the Westernized name worldwide--in 1939. They then developed the brand’s international reputation, achieving sales of $550 million last year, said Dillon Welchman, a spokesman for International Distillers & Vintners, Smirnoff’s parent company.

Boris Smirnov counters that the emigre ancestor who sold Smirnoff the award-winning recipe was a gambler who had ceded his share of the family business to his brothers in 1905, and, thus, had no right to peddle the Smirnov name to Americans.

Within the next few weeks, Russia’s Committee on Patents and Trademarks will decide whether Smirnov or Smirnoff has the right to use the name on vodka labels in Russia.

At stake, according to Smirnov: a share in a market of 150 million people who consume about 100 million bottles of vodka a day. A handful of Russian distillers now crank out enough bottles--most generically labeled “wheat vodka”--to more or less satisfy this country’s legendary thirst for strong beverage. The country also exports several brands, including Stolichnaya, to the West.

But both Smirnov and Smirnoff see a need for higher-quality, more distinctive vodka at home. Hoping to capitalize on their well-known name (whatever the spelling), both want to build brand loyalty through large-scale advertising campaigns.

As part of the effort to expand Smirnoff’s presence (and perhaps to blur popular understanding of exactly who is more Russian), Pierre Smirnoff Co. put up several hundred thousand dollars to sponsor the Commonwealth of Independent States’ Olympic team.