Wines from the “Old World” (Europe) have traditionally been labeled according to where they are grown, not what they are made of. This, of course, harkens back to the days when Kings and Queens told folks where to plant what, and is also, of course, largely whimsical and completely stupid. Yet today in Europe, that Old World custom is not only rigorously upheld, but also strictly regulated by state wine investigators (I am not joking). It’s the subject of much litigation and police action at borders.

So, let’s talk about the “New World” for a moment, which, in winemaking terms, means anyone besides France, Italy, Spain, Germany, Portugal (basically invented by England) and, on a really, really good day, Hungary. (Pathetic, right?)

The New World started out the wrong way. Instead of creating their own New World names, they simply ripped off the Old World wine names that consumers already knew and loved. The problem is, they didn’t make these wines from the same grapes used back home. In fact, they pretty much applied the names willy-nilly, using whatever terms they thought would sell the most wine.  So for instance, something red labeled “Burgundy,” which by French law can only made from a single grape (Pinot Noir), is suddenly being made in California from anything red (and then some).

Confusing? Absolutely. Misleading? Yep. Enough to make you switch to beer? Almost. The problem is that the Old World labeling system, which is in common usage to this day pretty much everywhere, gives us the most obscure, least useful information first. In large print at the top we’ll often see the name of a specific vineyard. Next comes the region, and the winemaker— listed almost as an afterthought. The actual grape contained— the most critically important information— is not even on the label. That’s because you are expected to know what types of grapes are used by the shape and color of the bottle. I am not joking.

So, we’ve established that wine labeling conventions are problematic to say the least. Now let’s consider a related topic, wine lists. How messed up are they? It all stems from the new-world/old-world labeling problem, henceforth referred to as the NWOWLP.

Wine lists try to be set up by logic. However, they are continually defied by it. White wines that should be grouped together (say, because they are all easier-to-drink whites that begin a meal or go with lighter foods, like Chardonnay and Riesling) are split up in the list because of NWOWLP.

A perfect example: Generally, in the US, California Chardonnays are listed first, followed by Sauvignon Blanc and then “interesting whites.” This is, as far as I can tell, just a silly habit picked up in the days when consumers first learned the word “Chardonnay,” but hadn’t yet mastered “Sauvignon Blanc.” In short, restaurateurs just put the most well-known wine first.

But we’ve come a long way, baby. Today lots of wines are well-known, and the general public would be well served by a better organized list. For instance, one that follows the order in which wines might logically be drunk throughout a meal: lighter to heavier. In such a scheme, Sauvignons (generally lighter) would lead, followed by dry Reislings, then heavier Chardonnays. Any moderately sweet whites can bring up the rear. It works just like the meal:  lighter appetizers first, then heavier entrees, then palate cleansers or cheeses. Ah, the logic of it all!

The domestic whites described above are just the tip of the iceberg. Once we get into the “Old World” section of a typical list, all hell really breaks loose. Here, we find wines from the very same grapes represented in the domestic section, but without a single word about why they’re listed separately. In fact, the menu doesn’t even state that they are in fact the same grapes. As a final touch of insanity, the Old World selections are presented in a totally different order from their New World counterparts. Why? NWOWLP.

Weirdly, the only place on a wine list where wines are generally presented in a logical order is in the “by the glass” section. Here we typically see a logical progression from lightest to heaviest, with sweets at the end, regardless of label or origin. How refreshing.

It is truly surprising any wine is sold at all, since you need to read a “Wine Bible” (yes, by Karen MacNeil, about $14 on Amazon.com) before you can even place your order. How to fix it? I say Screw the condescending French and their attitude that every human being on Earth should somehow be familiar with every vineyard in their backyard. It simply doesn’t work that way, and the message is getting through as sales start to slump. The French are in fact scrambling to change their laws so that they can openly claim “Chardonnay” right there on the front of their label, not Chassagne-Montrachet. (By the way, if you have such a bottle, please send it to me via my publisher. I’ll be happy to dispose of it—thank God you have no idea what it is).

Anyway, the point is, it’s not you (once again), it’s us screwing up. We took eight perfectly simple, lovely and great wines and turned them into a mish-mosh of confusion—then blamed you, the victim, for low consumption of wine.

Well, screw us! Go ahead and enjoy your Pinot, er, Burgundy, er….  well just drink it, already. Who knows, maybe after a second glass you’ll work up the courage to tell your local restaurateur to list all of his or her dry Chardonnays together, after the lighter whites!