Champagne made its debut at the French court at Versailles in the second half of the 17th century and was an instant hit with licentious aristocrats such as the regent Duc D'Orleans and Madame de Mailly, mistress of Louis XV. Ever since, Champagne has enjoyed a reputation as one of the most "romantic" of all beverages. As Valentine's Day approaches, we find it hard to resist the gently rousing "pop" of a bubbly cork, particularly if it is from a bottle of come-hither pink rose Champagne.

The connection between wine and, shall we say, the human spirit, has long been known. In 1865, London physician Robert Druitt published a book in which he urged his peers to encourage their patients to drink more red Bordeaux: "You will add 10 years to your patient's life and to your own fees."

But it is Champagne that adds a certain frisson to any event. Whether through adroit marketing or some primal human attraction to its sparkling bubbles, champagne is the tipple that people automatically reach for when they are in a mood to celebrate. As waggish writer Gerald Asher observed, "With a flute of champagne in hand, the young feel wisely witty and the old feel young; everyone is better-looking."

Romance aside, from a winemaking perspective Champagne is an interesting anomaly. The French are often guilty of endlessly prattling on about the special sense of place -- known as terroir -- that each vineyard offers. Burgundy fans go even further, arguing that even individual rows of vines have a unique flavor profile.

But in what might by called an antiterroirist move, most Champagnes are not only blends of grapes from as many as 50 different vineyards, but are often also blends of wines from as many as six different years.

The answer, as with most vinous riddles, lies in geography. The Champagne region is just east of Paris, making it one of France's northernmost, and therefore most marginal, grape-growing regions.

As a hedge against Mother Nature, growers in this region have focused on three different grape varieties, which ripen at different times. No matter how fickle the weather, they are likely to bring in at least some good grapes each year.

Given that most Champagne is white, people are often surprised to learn that two-thirds of the vineyards in the area are planted with the "black" grape varieties Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier. Only the remaining third is risked on the classic but rot-prone white grape known to the world as Chardonnay.

Making white wines from red grapes is a challenge. Winemakers have found, however, that by pouring the grape clusters directly into wide but shallow, pie-plate- shaped presses, they can gently squeeze off the clear grape juice without having it "tainted" by the skin color and tannins of the red grapes. (Think of this as the anti-Shiraz approach to winemaking. For Shiraz, the goal is to extract as much muck as possible from the crushed grape skins.)

Unlike the top Bordeaux or Napa estates, which usually own their own vineyards, the large Champagne houses are supplied by more than 10,000 individual growers, many of whom farm a hectare or less of grapes.

As each grape variety is usually crushed and vinified separately, the blending team has hundreds, if not thousands, of new components to work with each season. Even more interesting: For labels that don't have a year printed on them (i.e., nonvintage wines), the master blenders can use reserve wines from previous years to add complexity and round out any deficiencies in that year's primary blend.

While most rose wines in the world are made by allowing a limited amount of contact between the juice and the crushed grape skins, rose champagne is made by adding Pinot Noir wine to the final blend, up to a limit of 15 percent. In addition to changing the color to an alluring pink, the addition brings a whole new taste element to the wine, which is often described as a creamy, wild-berry overlay to the crisp structure of a classic Champagne.

Tokyo offers a cornucopia of Champagne bargains, with nonvintage Veuve Clicquot often available for just 3,000 yen. We recently even saw Dom Perignon being dumped at Costco for 7,768 yen. Unfortunately for pink lovers, however, the added production costs and more rarified market demand means that rose champagne tends to be priced as much as 50 percent higher than its white brethren.

But there is still hope for those looking to drink pink on Valentine's Day without having to count out a thick stack of 10,000 yen notes for a bottle of Cristal Rose.

Our house pink sparkler is actually not a Champagne at all, but rather a Cremant, the term used for French bubblies made in the methode champenoise style (i.e., fermented in bottle) but from grapes that come from outside Champagne. The Parigot Cremant de Bourgogne Rose is a great bargain for rose lovers, at just 1,980 yen at Enoteca ([03] 3280-3634, 5-14-15 Hiroo).

Those looking for a bit more elegance would be well served by a visit to Benoi^t Monier at Les Caves Taillevent in Yebisu Garden Place.

In addition to the big names, including a collection of Dom Perignon that dates back to 1959, Monier has built up an extensive list of bottlings from Champagne growers who are now making their own wines. By law, these recoltant- manipulant ("grower-winemaker," i.e. made by the same person who grew the grapes) Champagnes all bear a small "RM" on the bottom of the label, and are worth seeking out by those who value what goes into the bottle, rather than into marketing.

Monier particularly recommends the Reserve Grand Annee Rose from Lassalle, a romantic favorite and relative bargain for a rose Champagne at just 4,900 yen (Les Caves Taillevent, tel. [03] 5424-2581).

As for when to drink your newfound bottle of bubbly, we've always followed the widow Bollinger's advice:

"I only drink Champagne when I'm happy, and when I'm sad. Sometimes I drink it when I'm alone. When I have company I consider it obligatory. I trifle with it if I am not hungry, and drink it when I am. Otherwise I never touch it -- unless I'm thirsty!"