As someone whose family regularly argues over how long to boil an egg, I find the fact that 26 generations of the Antinori family have managed to produce wine as baffling as Simon Cowell’s penchant for cheek filler. According to the last ones standing, this is down to ‘a constant stream of innovation’, though something tells me it’s difficult to stay angry while enjoying Tignanello and tortelli in the Tuscan countryside. And after a particularly bleak month stranded on British soil, this is exactly the sort of mood-management I’m after.
