On Twelfth Night, to bring the festive season to a close, a self-indulgent account of a dinner that culminated in Romanée-Conti 1978 – a real one. A counterpoint to today's How to abstain perhaps?
There are times when I don’t mind being used. Towards the end of last year I was invited to dinner by a very successful eastern European businessman (EEB). He had already entertained Nick and me to lunch so I knew he was an enthusiast of top-quality burgundy, and that he could afford it. The big-name contemporary artworks on his walls in Kensington attested to that.
All...