Nobody wrote anything down.

At eight, there was a bottle of Morey-Saint-Denis on the table. By half past eleven, there was an empty bottle, four glasses in various states of abandonment, a cork somebody had spent far too long examining, and a tablecloth unlikely to recover without professional help.

No scores. No tasting note. Nobody said forest floor. Standards were maintained.

An empty bottle is one of wine’s more convincing reviews. It has no points to award, no producer to flatter and no particular interest in whether the vintage was declared exceptional.

Somebody poured a glass.

Then another.

Then the bottle was empty.

There are more sophisticated methods of assessment, naturally.

Few are quite so conclusive.

A tasting note is there to help us understand the wine.

It should never get in the way of enjoying it.