It happened again last night. Was talking to someone after a wine tasting I’d done in conjunction with Taste-In and Spiral Cellars at the Smallbone Kitchens showroom in Harrogate. The wines had gone down pretty well, but afterwards, someone came and said that they hadn’t like the two reds (Henschke’s Henry’s Seven and Cristia Chateauneuf) – ‘I prefer something smoother.’

Smooth. It’s a word that lots of people use when they’re describing wines they like, and bully boy that I am, I aim to do all I can to eradicate it from their vinous vocabulary. Because when I think of smooth, I think of mustard coloured nylon rollneck sweaters. I think of grey plastic zip-up mens shoes. I think of Cliff Richard. Elevator muzak. Blue Stratos. You get the picture.

When I drink wine, I don’t want a glass of Kenny G. I want something with a bit of personality, something with maybe a shady secret or two in its past, something your mother might tut at. So while I don’t want wine that feels like a mouthful of barbed wire, I do like a little rough with my smooth.