I have always wanted to be the type of person who knows about wine. When I was much younger, and in my Roald Dahl stage of life, I was very taken by Tales of the Unexpected; primarily the story about the wine challenge. Two friends meet for dinner. To amuse themselves they test each other on their wine knowledge. On this particular night, one friend has unearthed what he thinks is the most impossible challenge - a wine from a small vineyard and of a rare vintage. He is convinced his friend will fail to identify it. He tells him he will bet anything he wants that he will not guess correctly. The friend, a lascivious old soak, asks for a night with his companion's fragrant and beautiful young daughter and on the story goes through sippings and spittings and... it doesn't really matter how it ends, it was the tasting, the knowledge that had me enthralled.

So to find myself at the Hassler hotel in Rome surrounded by people who 'know about wine' was such a form of exquisite, terrifying pleasure that I almost locked myself in my sumptuous room overlooking the Spanish steps and refused to come out. I had already spied, in the lobby of the privately run hotel, a flowing-haired chap. I could tell he knew about wine. He had an air about him. He was chatting with the owner of the hotel, Roberto, a hospitable and impressive man. And when I watched him set off down the steps towards the Wine and Spirit Academy of Rome (which is linked to the Hassler hotel) my heart sank. I was about to attend the first course of the newly opened academy. I had been told it was the 'beginner's course'. I should have known that in Italy no one is a beginner in wine.

Luckily I turned out to be wrong (or right really as everyone in the class, 10 of us, did know about wine - flowing-haired man turned out to be both charming and one of the most respected wine producers in Italy). But once I'd stuttered how hopeless I was - 'but surely you know your Pinot Noir from a Merlot?' said flowing-haired man; 'Oh dear no,' I said - everyone seemed to accept the fact that they were dealing with an imbecile and went out of their way to explain things patiently to me.

Andrea Sturriolo is the man of the moment. He has been hand-plucked from London, where he was the sommelier to Giorgio Locatelli at Zafferano's, to come and run a set of new courses in this entirely redecorated building. Andrea is a lovely man. After the course he spent some hours - and I do have to say drunken hours - getting me to taste all sorts of wine. He said one thing to me at the beginning of the course and reiterated it at the end of the evening: 'There is no such thing as a good wine. When you taste a wine, I can tell you what helps make a wine good - the right growing conditions, the right grapes - but really it's up to you whether or not you like it. If you like a bottle that is considered to be inferior by the wine establishment, who cares? You're the one who is drinking it.' I loved Andrea for that. I think he is right.

Basically the beginner's course is about how to taste wine. We sat down at our brand new benches. In front of us were four glasses and a silver object which I found out later, by watching flowing- haired man, was a spittoon. Andrea, who started out shy but soon warmed to his subject, gave us all a lecture about what wine is (a product of fermentation of freshly picked grapes), how it is made, what specific qualities Italian wines possess (once thought of as being merely 'a food wine' Italian wines are now making more waves on the international wine circuit) and how the market has diversified into 'varietals' which means the combining of grapes to give a fuller aroma and a cleaner, oakier taste.

He then suggested that we start the tasting session with a white wine. First of all we had to pour a small amount into the glass and then we had to 'look' at the wine which consisted of tilting the glass and holding it over a white surface, such as a sheet of paper. The wine appeared green to me. 'The wine has a greenness to it,' said Andrea.

A-ha! I was right. This greenish tinge can, apparently, be because the wine is from a cold climate or it is a new vintage. Then he asked us to spin the wine around in the glass, holding the stem not the bulb, and smell it. 'You are looking for the intensity, the character,' he said spinning his glass in a professional fashion, watching me as mine went out of control and slopped wine everywhere. I spun and spun and smelt. I noticed that the more you spin and smell, the different the fragrance is. 'I can pick up sulphates here,' said Andrea. 'Spin more they may go away.' They did. In the end we all decided it tasted like citrus and green apples. Then came the crunch. 'Take a good mouthful,' said Andrea, 'swill it around, suck air though your teeth and then SPIT!' I swilled and sucked and spat and then did it all over again and then decided I didn't like this wine. It made my teeth go furry. I looked at flowing-haired man. He didn't seem to like it either. I felt relieved.

We then went on to do exactly the same with another white (much more palatable) and two reds. The last red I was nuts about. 'I love that!' I told Andrea. 'Hmm,' he said looking at me, 'jammy wines. That's what you like. Jammy ones that may be made of twice-dried grapes.' I had no idea what he was talking about but he then went on to list the types of wine I should like - and he was right. 'Amarone Valpolicella Classico?' 'Yes,' I said. 'Jammy,' he said again. Later on he handed me a list. 'Try Merlots,' he said, 'sometimes mixed with Syrah for spice. Or Pinot Noir. More specifically try Brunello di Montalcino, Sfursat and a Barbera with lamb.

'Look for wines using San Giovese grapes. They are right for you.' I have to say I have used this line since and impressed many of my friends. I only did a couple of hours with Andrea but I learnt so much. I learnt about my jammy wines and how to choose the right wine glasses (it's all in the glasses, folks - must be crystal, big for red so the wine can breathe, smaller and tapered for white). I learnt about varieties of grape and the region they come from. But most of all I have now become obsessed with tasting wine. Andrea told me sometimes he tastes more than 60 a day when he's trying out the new vintages. I like the idea of that. I have decided I want to train to be an expert in Italian wines. But, as my friend said, surely that's what the Italians are for? Killjoy.

Hotel Hassler: (0039) 06 69 93 40; www.hotelhassler.com
International wine academy of Rome: (0039) 06 6990878