James McAvoy. Macbeth. Trafalgar Studios. New production. It was all brilliant but I won’t go on about it because you’d have to kill someone to get a ticket. What I will go on about is the very useful wine drunk with the supper eaten beforehand. I had made a tableful of antipasti partly to stave off noisy stomach rumblings during the performance, partly so I could stick all the leftovers in the fridge and not have to cook again for a week. Or at least, not have to eat mouldering oddments of bread for lunch for a week. There was a plate of cherry tomatoes in olive oil and salt; brown lentils with rocket, parsley and ricotta; artichokes; avocado; chicken wrapped in rosemary and pancetta; broad beans smashed up with lemon juice, pecorino and mint; green salad; toasted sourdough. I have been researching a piece for the Telegraph on wines from convenience branches of the big supermarket chains so there were also about two dozen opened bottles of wine in the kitchen. It always strikes me, that, grabbing food post-work, rammed up against a zillion other commuters, tired, cross and hungry there is almost no head-space left to make a wine choice except for the thought that a bottle that came with its own straw might be quite nice. So I had been shelf-scouring like a wine shopper, not a critic, to see what might end up in my basket, and called them all in to try. There were a few goodies – I’ll be writing about the rest of them in the Telegraph – but the one I chose to have a glass of with my plate of food was the Moncaro Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi 2011 Marche from Waitrose (£5.59 in large stores, £5.85 in a convenience branch). Italian wines often work well with Italian stuff – there’s just a little edge of bitterness – or unsweetness if you prefer – that jigsaws in and gets a hold of the food. This one is clean and green. It has a bit of leafy texture and grip (sorry, I know that sounds a bit weird, but it really does grip on in your mouth), and a tight line of citrus. Nothing complicated. But just right. And unlike pinot grigio which sometimes seems so invisible that if it wasn’t for the alcohol you might think you’d accidentally picked up a glass of water instead, you can taste it.