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Nina Caplan is the 2018 and 2014 Fortnum & Mason Drink Writer of the Year and the 2014 Louis Roederer International Wine Columnist of the Year for her columns on drink in the New Statesman, and the author of The Wandering Vine: Wine, The Romans and Me, published by Bloomsbury. She tweets as @NinaCaplan.
We are better off for obscure wines brought across borders to our table.
Our divorce from the EU will leave us, like characters in a Dantean parable, lapping frantically at a lake of English wine.
That said, I view a month of abstinence from alcohol as little more than an irritating fad.
For those of us who get a little twitchy at the narrative of maternal virgins and venerated male children, France’s most famous wine region offers a delicious antidote.
They have so much more in common than my devotion.
Beefeater and Gordon’s are familiar, although their shareholders must hanker for the days when the unfamiliar was a little harder to find.
Made by the people growing the grapes, does grower Champagne offer proof that the individual can flourish within a system tailored to big business?
If Champagne is the celebration wine, perhaps English can be the wine of commiseration, at least until we once again have reason to rejoice.
There are white, rosé and even sparkling Riojas, and the reds range from supermarket bargains to bottles worth hundreds of pounds
At a new hotel with an excellent house fizz and a decent southern French Vermentino at £5 a glass, I could almost see my 22-year-old self and my much-missed father both smiling their approval.