We are sitting in the drawing room of the country house hotel of my dreams. It is a wonderful summer's evening, the sun slowly going down over the horizon. Having spent the day hill-walking with my partner, I have built up a healthy appetite, and am anticipating dinner with some relish. We have ordered our food; we are sipping a glass of nicely chilled Champagne, one of a dozen or so wines available by the glass. I open up the wine list.

The list is short but very well-chosen, allowing us full scope to indulge our preferences and passions. She adores lighter white wines, not too high in alcohol, and definitely un-oaked. Her normal tipple is an aromatic, fruit-filled New Zealand Sauvignon, or if we are on a budget, a crisp fresh dry white from the Côtes de Gascogne. But the list offers her plenty of choice; there is a very tempting-looking Soave from Italy, a Rias Baixas from Spain, two very good Sauvignons, one from Casablanca, the hot new white wine region of Chile, another from Robertson in South Africa; then there are a few Rieslings too - a light crisp trocken from Germany, and a wonderful Clare Valley Riesling from Australia; any of these would go very nicely with the plate of seafood she has ordered. I myself would probably have gone for the Sancerre, or maybe the Muscadet, the prefect partner for Fruits de Mer; but instead she opts for the Chablis. It is from one of the top estates, a small grower whose wines are exemplary. It will go perfectly with those prawns, mussels and oysters. Even better, it is available in half bottle.

My own starter is very different; I am having foie gras, and need something rich, possibly sweet, but certainly powerful to drink with it; there is plenty of choice. If I felt like pushing the boat out, there is a maturing Puligny-Montrachet; a rich Viognier from the northern Rhône, or the big toasty Australian Chardonnay will certainly stand up to the robust flavours. In the end, I opt for a glass of Sauternes, a sweet wine that would be the traditional accompaniment in France; helpfully the restaurant offer it by the glass to go with my goose liver.

On then to the main courses; again we are having different dishes. She has gone for the full monty - grilled prime sirloin steak, with chips and a Béarnaise sauce. I have chosen grilled black sole with herb butter. Winewise, we need something that will stand up to her steak, but not overwhelm my fish.

The list includes a few well-chosen clarets - not a page of them, and not at stratospheric prices either - a few five-ten year old Bordeaux, good wines from lesser vintages, rather than lesser wines from good vintages. There are two or three red Burgundies too, each a different style, and at a different price. The big busty Barossa Shiraz will overwhelm my main course; likewise the Californian Zinfandel. There is a very young fruity Rioja, a great all-rounder that would probably suit both our choices, and the Merlot from Chile is also a distinct possibility.

Fairly quickly I narrow my choices down to two or three; there is a Chinon, a light red from the Loire Valley, one of my favourite kinds of wine, provided it is from a good vintage; then there are a couple of Pinot Noirs - one reasonable-priced one from Burgundy, and one from New Zealand. I have never tried either, so I ask the wine-waiter. So far, she has been very pleasant and seems knowledgeable. Her advice is short and succinct. The Burgundy might be a bit heavy and tannic for the fish, but either of the other two would do the trick; we go for the New Zealand Pinot Noir, and hit the jackpot. It is light, fruity and easy-drinking, and sits sweetly with my fish. With her steak, it is equally successful - the fruit and light acidity acts like a piquant fruity sauce, the prefect foil for the rich meaty flavours.

On then to the final courses. She goes straight for the something deeply chocolaty. I don't have a sweet tooth, but the cheese board looks interesting, the cheeses local and properly matured. I ask for the wine list once more, and with a large single slice of farmhouse cheddar, I make heavy inroads into a half-bottle of Bordeaux. The dessert list is short, only four wines, but each is available by the glass. The wine waiter suggests an Orange Muscat from California, a pairing that works brilliantly. Feeling rested, full and full of bonhomie, we retire to the drawing room. I look at the digestif list and decide to have a Calvados with my coffee. She being more traditional, has a cognac. The perfect end to my perfect meal.

Mostly, I eat out in modest establishments. Here are five things I look out for on a wine list.

Size
A short list - I am there to enjoy the company of my guests, not read a giant tome.

Selection
Small should not limit my choices. In a good wine list, each wine is different, from a good producer, and makes me want to try it.

Price
Fairly priced - I know running a restaurant is expensive, but I don't see why wine-lovers should be penalised.

Advice
I enjoy talking to a knowledgeable wine waiter - I don't need a fully trained sommelier - just someone with a bit of enthusiasm, who has tried out the wines, and can explain how they taste. Either that, or some properly written tasting notes.

Size Again
If I am eating alone or with one other person, I love to choose from a selection of wines by the glass or half-bottle.