You need a beefy red when you have a cow, man!

What should one drink with a steak? The answer isn't always obvious.

Restaurants in Britain came about when, shortly after 1789, a bunch of French chefs found themselves unemployed, without notice or pay-off, and crossed the Channel. The egalitarian impulse that did for their aristocratic employers took a while to gain traction but, 200-odd years later, almost everyone eats out, although there are certainly social divisions in what they eat and where – and their beverage options are rarely up to my undemocratic standards.

So, dinner is complicated. My wine collection is composed of everything I like to drink and is free at the point of access. Balanced against this are an adventurous gastronomic spirit and a suspicion that guillotining is preferable to washing up.

The solution is to bring my own, but good-quality BYOs are rarer than cows’ fangs in this great country of ours. I therefore deem it considerate of the Hawksmoor restaurants to transform themselves into BYOs every Monday, offering corkage at a fiver a bottle.

Hawksmoor steak is superb and I am part Aussie, which means my idea of a vegetarian meal is one where you get side dishes with your barely cooked cow. I have nothing against its wine list, either, though it has never had the benefit of my palate at its best on account of its marmalade Martini – an elixir that deserves a column to itself and will probably get one.

The joy of a Monday BYO policy is that it transforms a depressing day – one so far from the next weekend’s indulgence that foolish folk feel the need to compound its miseries with temporary teetotalism – into one where I get to drink whatever I want with great steak, someone else deals with the dishes and the meal even meets my definition of vegetarian dining because of the fabulous triple-cooked chips.

There’s still one problem, however: what do I want to drink with it? To some extent it depends on the cut – tannic wines slice deftly through fattier meat – but only to some extent, as steak is a forgiving dinner companion. Most reds with a bit of heft will partner decently with a hunk of good rare beef. (If you don’t think good beef should be eaten rare, we probably won’t agree on much.)

This, however, is a hypothesis begging to be tested, and so four hungry women convene at Hawksmoor Guildhall with seven bottles, which seems about right to me. “Everybody’s going to judge us,” mutters Helen, and so they do: judge us and find their own dinners wanting. Our waiter informs us that people keep asking if they can have what we’re having. It’s like that scene in When Harry Met Sally, but with better beverages.

We don’t try Bordeaux or Burgundy – both fine steak matches but there wouldn’t be room on the table. Two Argentinian Malbecs work nicely: Susana Balbo Malbec 2010 is fine and spicy, full of cinnamon and blackberries; its little sister, the Anubis (also by Balbo) is a cheapish peoplepleaser, soft and plush as purple velvet. It used to be in Tesco and I cried when they delisted it.

Argentina’s steaks are legendary and Malbec is the locals’ choice, but Hawksmoor’s beef is British and, call me a purist (go on, please), but I find these wines, delicious as they are, slightly too soft and rounded for cool-climate meat.

When first opened, without food, Jean-Luc Colombo Crozes Hermitages Les Gravières 2010 feels a bit thin and acidic – a stingy wine. But show it a steak and that thinness becomes a fine, peppery flavour, and the acid melts as the tannins take hold, sharpening their knives and getting to work. Chimney Rock Cabernet Sauvignon 2008, from Napa Valley, was another wine in need of a decanter: given a bit of air and a lot of cow, it was delightful.

Our conclusion, as we waddled into the night, is that steak is as accommodating as the animal it comes from. So pick your cut and choose your region – and if you’re eating at Hawksmoor, I’ll wish you bon appétit. You’ll surely need it.

Next week: Nature

Perfect pair: good steaks can transform slightly acidic wines. Photograph: Marcus Nilsson/Gallery Stock.

Nina Caplan is the 2014 Fortnum & Mason Drink Writer of the Year and 2014 Louis Roederer International Wine Columnist of the Year for her columns on drink in the New Statesman. She tweets as @NinaCaplan.

This article first appeared in the 02 September 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Syria: The west humiliated

Davide Restivo at Wikimedia Commons
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Scientists have finally said it: alcohol causes cancer

Enough of "linked" and "attributable": a new paper concludes that alcohol directly causes seven types of cancer.

I don't blame you if you switch off completely at the words "causes cancer". If you pay attention to certain publications, everything from sunbeds, to fish, to not getting enough sun, can all cause cancer. But this time, it's worth listening.

The journal Addiction has published a paper that makes a simple, yet startling, claim: 

"Evidence can support the judgement that alcohol causes cancer of the oropharynx [part of the throat], larynx, oesophagus, liver, colon, rectum and [female] breast"

So what's especially significant about this? 

First, scientists, unlike journalists, are very wary of the word "causes". It's hard to ever prove that one action directly led to another, rather than that both happened to occur within the same scenario. And yet Jennie Connor, author of the paper and professor in the Preventive and Social Medicine department at the University of Otago, New Zealand, has taken the leap.

Second, alcohol not only causes cancer of one kind – the evidence supports the claim that it causes cancer at seven different sites in our bodies. There was weaker evidence that it may also cause skin, prostate and pancreatic cancer, while the link between mouth cancers and alcohol consumption was the strongest. 

What did we know about alcohol and cancer before?

Many, many studies have "linked" cancer to alcohol, or argued that some cases may be "attributable" to alcohol consumption. 

This paper loooks back over a decade's worth of research into alcohol and cancer, and Connor concludes that all this evidence, taken together, proves that alcohol "increases the incidence of [cancer] in the population".

However, as Connor notes in her paper, "alcohol’s causal role is perceived to be more complex than tobacco's", partly because we still don't know exactly how alcohol causes cancer at these sites. Yet she argues that the evidence alone is enough to prove the cause, even if we don't know exactly how the "biologial mechanisms" work. 

Does this mean that drinking = cancer, then?

No. A causal link doesn't mean one thing always leads to the other. Also, cancer in these seven sites was shown to have what's called a "dose-response" relationship, which means the more you drink, the more you increase your chances of cancer.

On the bright side, scientists have also found that if you stop drinking altogether, you can reduce your chances back down again.

Are moderate drinkers off the hook?

Nope. Rather devastatingly, Connor notes that moderate drinkers bear a "considerable" portion of the cancer risk, and that targeting only heavy drinkers with alcohol risk reduction campaigns would have "limited" impact. 

What does this mean for public health? 

This is the tricky bit. In the paper, Connor points out that, given what we know about lung cancer and tobacco, the general advice is simply not to smoke. Now, a strong link proven over years of research may suggest the same about drinking, an activity society views as a bit risky but generally harmless.

Yet in 2012, it's estimated that alcohol-attributable cancers killed half a million people, which made up 5.8 per cent of cancer deaths worldwide. As we better understand the links between the two, it's possible that this proportion may turn out to be a lot higher. 

As she was doing the research, Connor commented:

"We've grown up with thinking cancer is very mysterious, we don't know what causes it and it's frightening, so to think that something as ordinary as drinking is associated with cancer I think is quite difficult."

What do we do now?

Drink less. The one semi-silver lining in the study is that the quantity of alcohol you consume has a real bearing on your risk of developing these cancers. 

On a wider scale, it looks like we need to recalibrate society's perspective on drinking. Drug campaigners have long pointed out that alcohol, while legal, is one of the most toxic and harmful drugs available  an argument that this study will bolster.

In January, England's chief medical officer Sally Davies introduced some of the strictest guidelines on alcohol consumption in the world, and later shocked a parliamentary hearing by saying that drinking could cause breast cancer.

"I would like people to take their choice knowing the issues," she told the hearing, "And do as I do when I reach for my glass of wine and think... do I want to raise my risk of breast cancer?"

Now, it's beginning to look like she was ahead of the curve. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.