Somewhere between a glass of Valdespino Ynocente and a plate of chicken hearts in cream sauce, I found myself thinking about expensive perfume.

The first smell was strange. I couldn't identify it, and then it was gone. Nuts appeared, followed by something that reminded me of wandering through an expensive perfume shop.

I've always thought the best perfumes take their time. The simpler ones seem eager to impress you immediately, while the interesting ones reveal one note, then another. You can spend ages trying to untangle those fine, invisible threads.

I was quite happy doing exactly that with my glass of Fino.

It had this wonderful combination of acidity and an almost velvety texture. And then I took a bite of my chicken hearts.

Suddenly the acidity seemed softer, the wine felt fuller and more velvety, and the delicate roasted-nut flavour brought a faint Eastern note to the whole experience.

There I was, mentally browsing expensive perfumes, eating a wonderfully rustic dinner. I found the combination rather funny.

Wine is never just wine. Sometimes the most luxurious part of dinner is the thing you can't see.