After 20 years of doing brisk business selling their Cote du Rhone wines in the U.S., Jean-Claude and Beatrice Bouche are suddenly reeling: their American sales have crashed 30 percent since 2001.

In an attempt to reverse the decline, the Bouches, who own a 124-acre vineyard in Camaret, in the south of France, called Domaine du Vieux Chene, have done everything from lowering their prices to traveling to several U.S. cities to promote their wines -- with little effect. Left with few options, the couple has planted olive trees alongside its vines to diversify its revenues. "The wine used to sell itself," sighs Mrs. Bouche.

French wine sales in the U.S. are plunging overall, driving the French wine industry into a deep crisis. Exports of French wine to the U.S., excluding champagne, dropped 17 percent by volume in 2003 and a further 4.1 percent in 2004, according to the French Federation of Wine and Spirits Exporters.

The dollar's weakness against the euro has hurt not only French wine sales but also all kinds of European imports to the U.S., from silk scarves to truffle oil. Political boycotts sparked by France's stance against the Iraq war have certainly played a role, but a more fundamental shift is at work. The average U.S. consumer just isn't drawn to French wine anymore. France's complicated labeling system, which obscures what casual drinkers want to know most about a wine -- its grape variety -- is one reason.

Another is taste. Melissa Wright, wine director at Bello Vino Grocery, an upscale wine merchant in Ann Arbor, Mich., says that even her relatively "educated" customers find French wine to have "a bizarre taste" after growing "accustomed to these big production wineries" in California, Australia, New Zealand and Chile that offer fruitier flavors.

To the dismay of French vintners, these "New World" wines are showing robust growth in the U.S., helped by their simple labels, modern production techniques and savvy marketing of their corporate owners. Australian wines, in particular, now outsell French wines in the U.S.

New World wines "offer both a taste profile and quality-value trade-off that is superior to some of the Old World countries," says Richard Sands, chief executive of Fairport, N.Y.-based Constellation Brands Inc. Constellation, the world's biggest wine company, has invested heavily in New World wines: it bought Australia's BRL Hardy Ltd. for $1.4 billion in 2003 and Napa Valley's Robert Mondavi Corp. for $1.36 billion last year.

In the meantime, America's consumption of wine keeps rising. Although still behind France and Italy, the U.S. is expected to become the world's biggest wine consumer in terms of both volume and value by 2008, according to Bordeaux-based wine fair organizer Vinexpo. That makes the U.S. market of increasingly vital importance to the French wine industry.

Ironically, French consumption of the national drink is declining, largely due to healthier lifestyles and the growing popularity of other drinks. From 1970 to 1999, France's wine consumption fell 34 percent. From 1999 to 2008, it is expected to drop a further 16 percent, according to Vinexpo. The result has been rampant overproduction and a growing number of vintner bankruptcies.

Late last year, thousands of vintners took to the streets to vent their frustration, prompting the government to announce a euro>70 million ($91 million) aid package for the industry. As part of the rescue plan, the agriculture ministry said it would allow the destruction of vines to reduce production, which, in turn, could boost prices, and the distillation of excess wine into industrial alcohol.

One small group of high-end estates has managed to buck the crisis, thanks in part to Robert Parker, the hugely influential American wine critic. Mr. Parker grades wines like school tests, from 50 to 100, and provides descriptive text. The numeric ratings became immensely popular with Americans and now are used by many wine critics. Some French vineyards have thrived thanks to his reviews, but detractors say his preference for fruity, wood-flavored wines has an homogenizing effect on the industry and leaves most of France's winemakers out in the cold and off U.S. store shelves.

Twenty minutes down the road from the Bouches at Domaine de Beaurenard in the prestigious Chateauneuf du Pape wine region, Frederic Coulon is one of the beneficiaries of the Parker system. Flipping through his vineyard's press clippings, he stops at the page with Mr. Parker's rankings and reviews. "He likes Chateauneuf du Pape. That's good for us," Mr. Coulon says, noting that Mr. Parker comes to the region nearly every year for tastings. Mr. Coulon says "2005 looks good" for his estate.

Failure to make Mr. Parker's short list might be overcome with good marketing, but that's the French wine industry's other Achilles' heel. Production in France remains fragmented among thousands of small family-owned vineyards that are no match for giant corporations like Constellation. Marketing is also hindered by France's system of appellations d'origines controlees, or controlled names of origin, which mandates that a wine's label emphasize the region and subregion from which it originates, rather than its grape variety.

An American company, E.&J. Gallo Winery has found its way around that by teaming up with a local cooperative in the sunny Languedoc Roussillon region. The Languedoc is one of the few places where the AOC system mostly doesn't apply because it was deemed low-quality wine-growing land when the AOC lines were drawn in 1935. Gallo branded its new French wine with the catchy name "Red Bicyclette" and adorned its yellow label with a Frenchman on a bicycle. Introduced in the U.S. last year for $10 to $12 a bottle, it was a runaway hit: Gallo shipped over 120,000 cases in the first five months of 2004. The Bouches' wine, by comparison, costs about $15.

Unable to match the marketing prowess of companies like Gallo, the Bouches have tried more-modest tactics. In early 2003, they lowered their prices by 10 percent for the U.S. market. Mr. Bouche made trips to Atlanta, Ann Arbor and Detroit -- his first-ever trips to the U.S. -- to promote his wine to importers and store owners.

But the Bouches' U.S. sales continue to decline. Of the couple's six U.S. import partners, only one has placed an order in the past 12 months. "Illinois, that's all," says a frustrated Mr. Bouche, gazing out at his sunbathed vines from their stone house's kitchen window.

The Bouches aren't convinced that their wine business will turn around anytime soon. In addition to producing olive oil, they're also thinking of investing in one of the Grands Crus vineyards, which are the highest-ranked in a complicated, 150-year-old classification of French wines created by Napoleon III. Often graded highly by Mr. Parker, the prestigious Grands Crus continue to sell well all over the world, especially in the U.S. But they represent only a sliver of French wine country.

The investment wouldn't be "for us -- we'll be retired -- but for Bruno," says Mrs. Bouche, gesturing to her 17-year-old son, who hopes to continue the family business. Mr. Bouche nods in agreement and adds: "We can work harder on marketing and selling, but Grands Crus are the future."