It’s a naive domestic Burgundy without any breeding, but I think you’ll be amused by its presumption.

Thurber’s line turns wine-tasting language into social satire. By calling the Burgundy “naive,” “domestic,” and “without any breeding,” the speaker borrows the vocabulary of class and pedigree to describe an ordinary American wine, then undercuts the snobbery with a comic twist: the wine’s “presumption” becomes its charm. The humor depends on anthropomorphism and on the mismatch between lofty connoisseurship and a humble bottle. Read more broadly, it pokes fun at pretension—suggesting that even when something lacks the credentials of “high” culture, its audacity to imitate refinement can be entertaining, even endearing.