A few months ago, a new restaurant opened off the Strand that is quietly revolutionising how we all drink. Wine buyers, writers and sommeliers flock to Terroirs to sample its extensive, eccentric list of vintages

Summary

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Guerrilla wine sellers Eric Narioo and Doug Wregg share the secrets of their cellar with Victoria Moore

Afriend often arrives at my flat and asks for a 'stimulating' glass of wine. I know what he means: a drink that engages like a good conversation, not one that simply fills a liquid gap like a crackly radio station quenching the silence. I share this desire to drink well and it can sometimes make me pretty grumpy about going out. Yes, there are moments when I want nothing more than to dive into a lake of icy Sauvignon Blanc (or even Pinot Grigio), but finding a glass of something that does more than sluice alcohol, that you want to sip not gollop, with character, with soul, in a pub or wine bar? There aren't many places where you can do that.

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A few months ago, a new restaurant opened off the Strand that is quietly revolutionising how we all drink. Wine buyers, writers and sommeliers flock to Terroirs to sample its extensive, eccentric list of vintages

And then, a few months ago, a French drinking spot called Terroirs opened, unpromisingly, in a converted Davy's wine bar on William IV Street, just behind the Strand. In theory the place should scare the bejesus out of a generation of Londoners weaned on technically correct but totally lobotomised supermarket wines sold on three-for-two deals.

For a start, I write about wine for a living and even I can barely pronounce the names of the 26 wines (five sparkling, ten white, ten red, one rose) sold by the 175ml glass or 500ml pot - a Terras Gauda O Rosal, a beautifully peachy Albarin...

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