Is White Zin a Sin?
The town: Olympia, Washington, USA
The time: The mid-eighties, before Olympia — or any of its 
inhabitants, for that matter — had become hopelessly hip.
The characters: Me and anyone I was out having a drink with.
The situation: I felt pretty chic in the local bars, because while everybody else was drinking rum and coke or margeritas, I liked wine. And I drank a wine that didn’t go by its color alone. It was called “white zinfandel,” or “white zin” for the era’s aficionados. I still don’t know why I felt so classy ordering “white zin” – the concept of grape variety hadn’t yet entered my vocabulary. It just sounded so much spiffier than “red” or “white,” which was how wines were presented at the time.
I’ve come a long way, baby.
“Many cork dorks started with white zin, a gentle wine with the generic appeal of fast food,” for .
I did. And I freely admit it.
(Apron motif image from )
Betty, that’s a great memory ! When I started drinking wine (in the dark ages) I lived in upstate New York. The local equivalent to white zin was pink catawba (not the same varietal at all, but with a similar color). I moved on to Blue Nun and Mateus (of a different color). Then I went to France for the first time and everything changed. For the better.;) Now my wines don’t have to indicate a color on the label.