I was reading an article recently on ‘hyper-decanting’ – a practice advocated by a recent book on molecular gastronomy and consisting, basically, of running a bottle of wine through a blender at high speed. The outcome? Wines that start off a little ‘tight’ or heavy become softer and more approachable. A good thing, surely?

Commentators seemed divided. One went as far as to suggest that most red wines subjected to this process were improved by it, though many others were more hesitant. Thinking about this gave me the idea that, really, this disagreement was all about a basic division between what people want from their wine, and about wines that are made to appeal to those different wants. I realised that, when it comes to exploring the world of wine, you could do worse than starting with a basic distinction: wines you’d be happy to put in a blender, and wines that you would not. Forget, for now, all the confusing language, endless grape varieties, nuances of region, soil type and climate. You’ve spend your hard-earned cash on a bottle, brought it home, opened it. Happy to blitz it, or not?

We are all tempted by the idea of getting to where we want to be, and getting there quickly. And it’s certainly not a new idea that our culture’s obsession with having what we want, and having it right now, risks missing out on a lot of good things on the way. Hyper-decanting is a great example of this attitude as it exists in wine. It’s all about treating wine as an end product, about the idea that this wine is better like this, and that’s it. No more questions asked, black and white.

Some wines work along these lines. They’re not bad – hopefully – just forgettable. Many wines exist without aspirations beyond simple lubrication – for conversation, laughter, relaxation… whatever. The point is that these wines are happy in the background. The tasting notes read like a horoscope; so general, they could apply to anything. Red fruit, wood, spice. Pair with meat, fish, vegetables, probably cheese as well. These are wines that aim for easy, pleasant flavours that could come from anywhere. If you can add softness to that list of pleasing characteristics by hyper-decanting, then all the better.

On the other side, however, we have wine which is all about experiencing something special, perhaps unique. Usually this something is quite delicate, quite subtle, and requires a little attention – like all the best things in life. Even the same wine can have surprising differences between vintages, between bottles, and between glasses of the same bottle – some of the best wine experiences are to be had being sips, seeing how a bottle evolves right before your eyes. Traditional decanting is designed to gently enhance this process; hyper-decanting will blow right past it.

Neither approach to wine is better than the other, but for me the second experience is more rewarding, because more personal. There’s an infinite number of experiences to be had with wine beyond merely soft = good; and most are likely to be obliterated by a few pulses of the blender.