This year marks the 30th anniversary of my first wine-tasting. Three decades of swirling, sniffing and spitting (and sometimes swallowing).
Much has changed. In 1994, the typical taster was a tweedy, paunchy, ruddyfaced ex-public-schoolboy who looked askance at a long-haired, leatherjacketed young whippersnapper. I merely reinforced his long-held
