Drinking wine in moderation has its pros and cons, they say

But not really.

Every Saturday my husband and I bring our daughter to her ballet class. We sip great specialty coffee and people-watch in a nearby coffeeshop while she merrily prances away, clad in hues of pink and light blue. After that, we take a bus home and order pizza for lunch, which sometimes entails a glass of red for the grownups.

Today I decided we’d defo have some red with our fresh Icco pizza (iykyk) and got off the bus a stop earlier. I walked from Southampton Row to Lamb’s Conduit Street, to a fantastic wine shop called Albion Wine Shippers. Mind you, Lamb’s Conduit, this haven of hip consumption (Aesop and Toast stores adorning it are no joke), hosts such staples of wine culture as Noble Rot restaurant and its Shrine to the Wine cellar. Well, I prefer Albion! Their choice is much wider, prices much more diverse and the owner is a sarcastic middle-aged Brit who clearly loves his wine. He never approves of my request to find a gem for under £13, but never fails to serve, whereas Noble Rot’s damage starts at £20. And they’re all way too young there to my taste!

Anyways, off I go to Albion today and the owner isn’t there, it’s his assistant at the desk, which is a relief – I can unashamedly shuffle through the bin’s end case (£7.95 per bottle!). I’ve dug out a lovely pinot noir and a decent montepulciano, when another customer comes in. He is in his sixties, slightly plump, grey mane of hair, great cashmere jumper, good checkered shirt, a motorcycle jacket and helmet. I suspect he’s a retired Old Bailey judge – these gentlemen love buying flats in Bloomsbury (who wouldn’t?!). He doesn’t even slow his pace, takes a bottle in passim from a clearly familiar location and proceeds to pay.

We then had a little chat: he praised my pinot noir choice, I asked what he was up to with his bottle, he’s shared his favourite white burgundy with notes of citrus, asking me to keep it our little secret. A lovely exchange on a nice afternoon.

Which got me thinking on my way home that I clearly now have my wine preferences more and more defined with each year. Which is fascinating.

You see, I tend to consider myself a functioning alcoholic. Wine is my drug, and there is no point in denying it. When I was in my twenties, I proudly told people that I drink everything and anything, except for tequila (I had a life-changing experience and my first hangover with it, so I’ve been avoiding it ever since, altought my Mexican friends have recently treated me to a Casa Dragones, and I almost reconsidered). Then I started crossing out more spirits: no rum, no cognac, except for Delamain (family thing). Then I decided port and xeres weren’t my joy either: way too sweet and heavy. Then I started sorting my whiskies out and will probably now settle either for a 18yo Highland Park or for a sherry-cask Laphroaig.

Then I made my way through every possible cocktail and now have a very clear preference:

• gin French75

• gin martini with a twist

• classic or white negroni (in summer it can be a negroni sbagliato, but never an aperol)

• Bijoux

• Lucien Gaudin

• Old fashioned

That’s about it (still more than most people would do, I know!). The best gin you can have is St. Georges – it’s the mayonnaise of gins; anything and everyting gets better with a splash of St. Georges.

But wine – oh, you know, wine remained a vast world of possibilities – or so I thought.

First out went the wines of the New World. Except maybe a very good malbec or anything that comes out of the Opus One winery and some New Zealand-born sauvingnon blancs. I at some point agreed with myself that I am an Old World girl, be it cities where I’d love to live, or wine, for that matter. Similarly, I dipped my toes in the biodynamic wines, but my great dear friend who was a great lover of wine, and with whom we shared this love and much more, told me at some point: “Let’s be honest, these are more-less variations of piss. There are great wines there, but not to our taste, and you and I are much safer with a good bottle of Graves”. Reader, he was right.

But changes went on.

Pinot grigio, the drink of choice of my twenties, went out first. Surprisingly enough, followed by gavi! Cannot drink either of those now – well, of course I can, but I’d rather have something else. If I were to list my whites now, I’d do the following:

• New Zealand sauvignon blanc

• Dry Gewurztraminers / Rieslings – the dryer, the better

• White Burgundy; Pouilly Fumé / Fuissé / a good Petit Chablis / Chablis – with an appropriate meal; these are all way too heavy on their own

My rosé is super easy: Côtes de Provence only. No Languedoc-Roussillon, no pinot blush, no Spanish rose wines will do the trick for me. The paler and the provençaler, the better!

My reds are more complicated. My first experience of a stunning red was sacrilegious. It was the early oughts, we were in Kitzbuhel with my parents and their friends, there was a stunning Italian restaurant where they did a mind-blowing seafood pasta. Now, we were washing this pasta down with bottles and bottles of amarone. Yes, you’ve read it right – amarone. Don’t say anything, but it were the years where we were all learning the ropes. Enjoying things we could enjoy. So – yes, amarone and seafood pasta (without parmesan, at least!).

I wouldn’t drink amarone now, it’s way too heavy for me. My list of preferred reds is now shrinking to the below:

• French pinot noirs. I grew to love the lightness, the fruitness of it. But they have to be good – it’s very easy to stumble upon a bad pinot noir. My absolute dream would be to one day try a La Tâche and a Romanée-Conti, these peak pinot noirs. There’s hope as far as I am alive, isn’t there?

• Graves Bordeaux. I love a good Bordeaux, but if I were to choose, I’d only go for graves. Saint-Émillion – of course! Pauillac – sure thing, but the somber minerality of Graves is unmet for me.

• Morgon & Fleurie. I used to despise Beaujolais, but then I learned to differentiate the Nouveaux from more developed varieties and never looked back.

• Zweigelt – again, grew to love its tinge!

I used to love supertoscan wines. Five years ago I’d probably have told you I were a fan of Sassicaia / Tignanello / Brunello di Montalcino. If I am offered some, I won’t refuse, mind you! But if I were to order a glass / buy a bottle these days, I would probably skip this category as too heavy, too overwhelming.

I’ll finish this ode to wine with my champagne and sparkling wine choices. I love a bubble, but again, grew to differentiate. So, some rules:

• no Moët / Veuve / Bollinger (AWFUL hangover once, terrible poisoning, never again a Bollinger appears in my household!) ever at all

• Laurent Perrier brut white and rosé both very welcome

• My absolute favourite of the widely known brands would be Ruinart Blanc de Blancs

• What I truly prefer are smaller Champagne region producers – almost any – with their blanc de blancs variety. Albion Shippers always carries a good range of those.

• Prosecco – only DOCG and ideally Ruggieri, please

• Cremant – I’d rather do Alsace than Bourgogne – if at all

• Cava – used to love black Freixenet, but not so sure anymore.

I think I’ll leave it at that for today. I could tell you about the breathtaking Joyce DiDonato premiering the full Purcell’s Dido with Il Pomo d’Oro orchestra in Barbican the other day. I could tell you that I stopped reading Ottega Moshfegh’s My Year Of Rest and Relaxation as could not bear this peak white privilege and general ennui. I could tell you that Nora Efron is always so relevant, so clever, so on point, everyone should read Heartburn.

But let this edition be my ode to wine.

P.S. Vodka? Well, I’m Russian so drinking it very cold and straight, with some very hot soup and chasers like pickled cabbage / gherkins, never in a cocktail, never on ice, never na zdorovje.

Libiamo!