First, based on the applicant wine lists and my own dining in Manhattan, where I live, I’d say presentation and organization tends to be schizophrenic. Some restaurants organize by wine variety, some by region, and some by style. Others get cute and clever and organize choices by criteria that are more personal and subjective (i.e. “Wines for Romantics;” “Wines for Celebrating;” or “Rebel Wines”). Some include elements of all of the above. I’m not sure anyone is really sure of what diners want, or how they actually read wine lists.

We talked about the different approaches among the judging panel, and just as restaurants varied widely in approach, we all varied widely in what we preferred. Several of us liked the “wine styles” approach—this is great for wine drinkers who know what they like as far as style or flavor profiles go (i.e. “Dry, Crisp Whites” or “Big, Fruity Reds”) but may be lacking in the more advanced wine knowledge (which probably describes 90% of the American wine drinking public). It seems to go one step further in making wine and food pairings choices easier, too. This was in keeping with our own approach to organizing wines in the Wine Enthusiast Wine & Food Pairings Cookbook; we received a lot of positive feedback from readers who connected with this way of presenting wines.

Others in the group found this approach annoying and liked the traditional approach of cataloging wines by region or variety—it seemed to be associated with more “serious” lists and higher-tiered eateries, which, it could be assumed, attract a more serious and knowledgeable wine drinker. I felt this kind of list was less user-friendly and that if you happened to be a food lover who maybe was still learning about wine (again, probably like most Americans), then you might get lost in the endless columns of wines that may not be familiar to you. One hopes these types of restaurants would employ a friendly sommelier who could help diners navigate the list, but in some cases it wasn’t true, and often, people hesitate to ask for help for fear of “looking dumb.” How many of these diners stare numbly at the list, then panic and choose something based on price alone?

Finally, the more eclectic approach of grouping wines under “clever” headings (usually handpicked and chosen by the sommelier or wine director)was deemed among our group to be charming and add a human, personal touch (like having your wine expert best friend handpick wines for you), but only in addition to a list that offered more help, like one of the approaches above.

List organization style was just one of many things we considered in judging our own awards–depth of list, creativity, food-pairing elements–all figured heavily as well, as did staff education, storage and events. There was no one “right” approach to wine lists organization necessarily, but it was an interesting topic of discussion.

What type of restaurant wine list do you prefer? Old school, practical, zany? Are restaurants doing a good job in exposing you to new wines and organizing lists in ways that are helpful, logical and stress-free?

Even a list bound in leather can be updated in a few minutes with a quick edit in Word and a swift printout from the HP whatever in the manager’s office. Knowing how easy it is to keep a list up to date makes it all the more frustrating for a customer when a restaurant blows something this simple.

This happened to me recently at a PF Chang’s China Bistro in Monterey, California. Despite what you may have seen on South Park, this contemporary chain of upscale Chinese restaurants has a surprising combination of good to excellent food, affordable prices and a kind of sophisticated city ambience (which is a welcome thing in the suburbs where you usually see them).

The wine list had good choices for Chinese food, including a bunch of aromatic whites. I thought I’d retest the theory that slightly sweet, aromatic wines pair well with spicy food. Having just sampled the Chateau Ste. Michelle Eroica Riesling at Wine Enthusiast’s cool Toast of the Town tasting in San Francisco (next stop Atlanta, April 17), I ordered it.

We also ordered our food. The first dishes came quickly but we had no wine to drink. The waiter came back soon to say that wine was out. So I looked at the list again and saw a Pinot Gris that I figured would be rather light and fruity and not totally dry. I ordered that. The waiter went away to get it. Meanwhile our food arrived and we still had no wine to drink.

The waiter came back and said she was sorry, but they didn’t have a full bottle of the Pinot Gris. We could have glasses poured out of a bottle at the bar. I was hungry, thirsty and quickly getting irritated. There were four of us, and we needed a whole bottle, at least.

So I looked at the wine list again, found a Dry Creek Chenin Blanc from California and ordered that. The waiter was very nice and apologetic about their lack of the previous two widely available wines made in large quantities, but I wasn’t in the mood for confessions. Luckily, they had the Dry Creek in stock, and at least one full bottle of it.

She came back quickly with this, my third choice, so at last we had something in our glasses. Right behind her was the manager. He apologized, explained that they were re-doing the wine program, and told us the Chenin Blanc was on the house.

Phew. That defused the whole situation. It even made us feel a little, well, special. We boomers love that.

The manager grasped how lame it was that the list was out of date on two wines. He took the initiative to make it right. It cost the restaurant what? About $8 for the wholesale price of the wine? But it paid off. We drank the wine, had a good time under fabulous lighting and went away happy.

It doesn’t always happen that way, unfortunately. I suspect that horror stories about lying wine lists are more common than the success stories.

I dislike having to do it, but when I smell the musty, newspapers-in-the-damp-basement aroma of trichloroanisole in a wine, I still have to do it. I tell the waiter I think the wine is corky, she smells it and then there’s a moment when I don’t know if she’s going to believe me.

Lately, though it seems like nine of out 10 times, she does.

Could it be that the tide of awareness and staff training has finally turned? It’s about time. For many years, inexperienced waiters and sometimes overly confident sommeliers had control of this moment, and they often would use it to save a sale and put down the diner’s revolt.

They wouldn’t always agree with the diner. They didn’t recognize a corky wine when they smelled it. “It smells OK to me sir, but if you don’t like it, I’ll bring you a bottle of another wine.” That meant that they didn’t think it was corky, but that you were possibly an idiot who didn’t know that a great red Burgundy was supposed to smell like a week-old bath towel that never quite dried.

Now, I feel that I am usually on the same team with the wine waiter. The dynamic is different. Maybe there has been a change in restaurant wine etiquette. Bad corks have gotten so much publicity that restaurant staff have a much better awareness of it, and they’ve joined us diners in the fight against the forces of evil.

The last time I sent a bottle back, the young waiter got excited about it, in a good way. His reaction when I said I thought the wine was corked, was, more or less: “Really? Cool.” He smelled it and a light bulb went off in his head. He said it was the first time anyone refused a bottle from him. He eagerly went back to the kitchen to share his epiphany.

He came back out with a new bottle, we both sniffed it and everything was cool. We had conspired to win a little battle against TCA. This was a good thing, and I hope it’s a change in the style of sommeliers that’s here to stay.

Has anyone else noticed this change in attitude? I’d like to hear your best story about sending a bottle back, good or bad.