Dinner parties often have an embarrassing way of separating wine buffs from wine drinkers.
The most common source of confusion is mistaking the name of a grape with the name of a specific wine-producing location.
I'll never forget that fateful night some 12 years ago when I announced loud and clear that I just couldn't stand the taste of Chardonnay. Fine, said my host, I'll be glad to open a bottle of Chablis. Would that be okay? Just great, I exclaimed.
As I sipped the delicious cool white wine, the fellow on my right discreetly whispered in my ear that Chablis was, in fact, a sweet little town in France.
The grape they used to make the wine I was enjoying so much was, in fact, Chardonnay.
A thoughtful chap, he didn't want to make host or guest look foolish; single-handedly he started me thinking about the complexity of wine and why grapes have a sneaky way of tasting differently in different locations or when produced by different wineries.
I learned, for example, if you say pinot noir is not your cup of tea, then you probably won't like many of the reds bottled in Burgundy, or Oregon's popular Ponzi Reserve - wines mostly pure pinot noir.
Dozens of pinot noir grape-growing regions exist, though many bear labels that unfortunately don't reflect the grapes they use.
The complications grow when wineries use at least 75 per cent of one grape to make their wine - as Flora Springs does with sauvignon blanc in California - then go and name it the perplexing Soliloquy.
Reading some labels affords clues, thanks to those wineries that strive to make life easier for their customers. But most Old World winemakers steadfastly refuse to move in the direction of their New World competitors, and persist in keeping the uninitiated in the dark grape-wise.
Getting back to the Chardonnay, I was a member in good standing for many years in the ABC (Anything But Chardonnay) club, even though I made an exception with Chablis. I say 'was' because I have since resigned. It seems my constant complaints now lack good cause. At the six or seven major wine tastings I attended recently, producers pushed their 'un-oaky, un-buttery, less-forceful' Chardonnays - the very three characteristics I found objectionable. These new gentler versions are much more appealing.
Curiously, they bear a strong resemblance to good old Chablis.