Tesco Simply Soave is never going to win any prizes for aromatic complexity. Apart from the most perfunctory of gestures in the general direction of pear, it doesn’t taste or smell of much at all. For my purposes, that’s not a problem, though. Properly dry, crisp without being abrasively acidic and cheap at £4.79 a bottle, it’s just the thing I need to tone down the sherbet sweetness and snow-globe froth of the half-empty bottle of Jamie Oliver brand prosecco that’s been winking at me from the corner of the kitchen for the past couple of days. An inch of the Soave at the bottom of the glass, topped up with Jamie’s bubbles: it’s nobody’s definition of fine wine, but to me at least the resulting concoction is much better than the sum of its parts. It’s even better with a slice of pear and a couple of ice cubes.

That’s generally the way with wines at the more industrial end of the market: judicious home blending of budget bottles can make the difference between borderline acceptable and pleasantly palatable. In the case of my “Simply Jamie” creation, there’s an element of like with like: both wines are whites – one fizzy, one still – from north-east Italy, and they have a similar flavour profile. But it can work just as well with wines of different characters from opposite sides of the world. It’s just a matter of sizing up what’s either excessive or lacking, and finding the antidote.

The barely ripe blackcurrant crunch and astringency of a cheap bordeaux like Waitrose’s Good Ordinary Claret (£5.19) can add grit, bite and freshness to a jammy red from the heat of South Australia such as Bushland Estate Shiraz (£4.59, Aldi). Rinsing the glass, martini-style, with a dry sherry such as Sainsbury’s Winemakers’ Selection Pale Dry Fino (£5.50) from southern Spain leaves a trace element of yeastiness that adds something savoury to the simple, slightly syrupy Waitrose Californian Chardonnay 2013 (£6.49). Even red and white can work together: a dollop of Aldi’s floral-peachy Exquisite Collection Marsanne brought a bit of aromatic lift and freshened the plummy palate of Sainsbury’s So Organic Shiraz 2014 (£6).

When you go about this DIY business you’re breaking a taboo, deviating from the idea that wine, with all its sometimes ridiculous ceremony, is different from other drinks, and that mixing it is not the done thing. Which only adds to the fun. But it really shouldn’t feel strange. After all, you’re only continuing work that winemakers do all the time: blending.

The importance of blending is sometimes underplayed. The prevailing wisdom is that wine is made in the vineyard, and that the winemaker’s job is to interfere as little as possible, allowing the vineyard or grape variety to “express itself”.

Every wine involves some degree of blending: whether it’s a mix of grape varieties, vineyards, regions, vintages or tanks. You could argue that a mastery of the art – which is itself a rare blend of skills; equal parts sense-memory, tasting ability, logistical rigour, scientific analysis and imagination – is the single most important skill for a winemaker.

There are some wines where that skill is taken to exquisite heights: if you’ve tasted an old vintage of Australia’s most famous red, Penfolds Grange, which takes shiraz from vineyards across a vast distance in South Australia, you’ll know that it’s possible to reach vinous nirvana without knowing the grapes’ precise locations. Likewise the great Champagne Krug Grande Cuvée, a blend of 120 wines made from three grape varieties grown in 25 villages from 10 or more vintages, is a symphonious joy. See also much of the best sherry and rioja.

The more workaday side of blending, where the winemaker compensates for deficiencies, or balances strengths, often on an enormous scale, is no less impressive. As Phil Laffer, who oversaw the rise of Jacob’s Creek, once told me: “It’s easy to make one barrel of fine wine. It’s a lot harder, and more satisfying for me, to make a good quality wine in large quantities.”

I can’t go along with Laffer entirely. But I know what he means. And I have nothing but respect for the art of blending – all the more so since I’ve tried it at home.

Six of the best blended wines

Vuurberg White, Stellenbosch, South Africa 2013
(from £14.75, allaboutwine.co.uk; nywines.co.uk)
The South Africans are masters of the complicated white blend: chenin blanc is one of six grape varieties in this example. They’re fashioned by the gifted winemaker Donovan Rall into a rich, taut, complex but harmonious whole, full of white peach, tangy apple and minerals.

Penfolds Bin 28 Kalimna Shiraz, South Australia 2011 (£22, bbr.com)
Originally named after and sourced from a single-vineyard in the Barossa Valley, the Bin 28 Kalimna Shiraz is now a kind of baby-Grange in the Penfolds stable, with grapes taken from several South Australian vineyards. It’s deep and full with abundant rich fruit and a wonderfully polished feel.

Tesco Finest Argentinian Malbec, Mendoza, Argentina 2014 (£7.99, tesco.com)
Producer Catena has done more than anyone else to make Mendoza synonymous with a single grape variety, malbec. This superb value example is very much a blend, however, its balance of cherry, chocolate and floral notes the result of combining wines from vineyards at different altitudes.

E Guigal Côtes du Rhône 2011 (£11.75, or £9.98 if you buy two bottles, majestic.co.uk)
The Guigal family’s most celebrated wines are its single-vineyard syrahs, made from three vineyards (the “La La’s”) in Côte-Rôtie. But it’s this tried and trusted blend of syrah, grenache and mourvèdre from vineyards across the Rhône that pays the bills with its spicy, supple, blackberry and pepper charm.

Gosset Grande Reserve NV (£46.50, champagnedirect.co.uk)
A blend of grape varieties – chardonnay, pinot noir and pinot meunier – from several growers, this star-bright, nervy, tropical-fruit and ginger-biscuit-scented fizz is also a mix of three vintages. Making it what Gosset calls, like Krug, a “multi-vintage” rather than “non-vintage” blend.

Warre’s Otima 10-Year-Old Tawny Port (£11.99, 50cl, Waitrose)
Like sherry, but unlike vintage port, tawny port is all about the fiendishly complicated job of combining wines that have been ageing for various periods in barrel. The average age of the wine here is 10 years old, and it makes for a lighter, fresher, fruit-dessert-friendly style, full of dried cherries and nuts.