Burgundy or Bordeaux? We were discussing that unending question during dinner over the weekend. I think that there is only one answer: ‘Yes.’ ‘But which, you clot?’ ‘Either. Better still, both.’

It is so much a matter of sentiment, and of which great bottle you have been lucky enough to drink most recently. But there is an argument, which is nothing to do with quality, that Bordeaux – claret – is more British. This is as true in North Britain as in England. There are various versions of a well-known piece of doggerel. My favourite is: ‘Proud and erect the Caledonian stood / Auld was his mutton but his claret good.’ Even before the ’45 and the crushing of the clans, chieftains in some of the most inaccessible parts of the Highlands often surprised visitors by the riches of their cellars.

These days, the cellars will still be well-furnished, as the successors of the clan chiefs relearn the old lesson: that it is easy to make a small fortune in the Highlands. You merely have to start with a large one.

It may be that whereas Bordeaux is more Atlantic, Burgundy is nearer to central Europe and a Mediterranean culture. It may also be that the Rosbifs seem more at ease with Bordeaux than with Burgundy because Gascony used to belong to the Crown.

I recently discussed this with a French friend. He was torn between contempt for Emmanuel Macron as a human being and a belief that some of his reforms were essential but would almost certainly fail. Enthralled by the coronation, he was almost ready to agree that France was a failed state which had never recovered from the murder of Louis XV1. ‘Why don’t you come back to England?’ I asked. ‘Hmmm. Don’t interfere with the land settlement, send us the Prince and Princess of Wales as the governors-general and don’t allow Boris Johnson anywhere near the place… There’d be more support than you might think.’

Leaving that charming fantasy on one side, I was recently at a tasting of two St Julien wines. That is a commune which produces several classed growths and at its best harmonises masculinity and femininity: its neighbours are Pauillac and Margaux. I once wrote that while you drink a Pauillac, you undress a Margaux. St Julien is betwixt and between.

The Martin family have been involved in viniculture since the 17th century. In the 20th, entrepreneurship enabled them to acquire holdings, and two serious names. Château Gloria is the better known, but we also tasted Château St Pierre, which had passed most of us by. That will quickly be rectified.

In Bordeaux, 2003 was not much of a year and we were expecting to be reminded why. Not so: it was an excellent wine, with plenty of fruit and structure. If you should come by a bottle, forget about the year’s reputation and prepare for pleasure.

The 2010 was, of course, its superior, as one should expect from such a good vintage. A fine claret, drinking perfectly, it is likely to remain in good order for quite some time, The 2015 was not yet ready but had plenty of promise. I would be inclined to give it another five years.

This quality has not come about by accident. With the Martin family, wine has been bred in the bone. They revere tradition and are proud of their history. But they combine all of that with careful scientific study. So past, present and future combine – in a dance, one might almost say after a few glasses. The Martins are producing an excellent wine which deserves to be much better known.