I don’t drink much wine these days. There was a time I used to buy pretty good bottles from a fancy wine dealer and put them in a couple of wine racks in my living room. Gradually, I have drunk less wine. Nowadays, I may have a glass or two of wine four or five times a year. On holiday, when friends offer me a glass or two, or when I’ve bought some nice cheese from the expensive cheese shop. In France, wine still figures. If you don’t order wine in a restaurant the waiters whip away all your nicely laid out glasses as if to punish you for the austerity of your tastes. There is an implicit irritation that you are not doing what you are supposed to. Part of this is that it is in the drinks that their margins lie and if you aren’t partaking, they aren’t making a profit out of you. I remember a few years ago the story of an Air France flight where an American passenger wanted milk with his steak and the stewards refused. . I don’t know if that would happen today. Still, the atmosphere of seething resentment remains when you don’t order a bottle of bourgogne with your meal. If they really want you to drink the wine, they should look at their mark-ups.

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