The British barbecue is a wonderful, chaotic thing: a hot afternoon, a cold drink and someone poking at charcoal with more hope than method. The good news is that cooking over fire properly is not hard. It just asks for a little patience and a few cues from someone who does it for a living. So we have borrowed some wisdom from chef Gill Meller, and pulled together a BBQ Classics edit of bottles to pour alongside the smoke.

First, a word from the fire

Gill Meller spent more than a decade at River Cottage alongside Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, and he has become one of the country's most thoughtful voices on cooking outdoors. He wrote the River Cottage book on outdoor cooking, teaches fire courses in Devon, and returns again and again to a simple idea: cooking over fire is a chance to slow down and reconnect, not a race. It rewards patience far more than gadgets. Hold that thought, because everything below flows from it.

One quick aside before we light anything. Half the pleasure of a barbecue is the glass in your hand while it cooks, so pour something the moment you start. A crisp English fizz or a pale, dry rosé is the perfect opener, and both are ready to go in our BBQ Classics edit.

Cook over embers, not flames

This is the lesson that changes everything. Light your fire early and let it burn down, so you are cooking over a glowing bed of embers rather than dancing yellow flames. Meller is evangelical about wood and charcoal over gas, and this is why: flames scorch and panic, but embers give a steady, even heat and that clean, savoury char you actually want. Give yourself a good forty minutes before the first thing hits the grill. The fire is not late; you are early.

Build two zones and take your time

Rake most of your coals to one side and leave the other side cooler. Now you have a hot zone to sear and a gentle zone to cook things through, or simply to park a sausage that is getting ahead of itself. This is the difference between control and chaos. It lets you brown a chop hard, then move it somewhere kinder to finish, which is exactly how you avoid the great British tradition of charcoal outside and raw within.

Put the vegetables in the coals

One of Meller's happiest habits is cooking vegetables directly in the embers, no grill required. Whole onions, beetroot, squash, leeks and corn go straight into the coals and stay there until the outsides blacken and the insides turn sweet and silky. You scrape off the char, dress them simply, and wonder why you ever bothered boiling anything. It is thrifty, dramatic and delicious, and those smoky, blackened vegetables happen to love a chilled glass of amie rosé.

Go bigger: joints, fish on a plank, the spit

Once you trust your fire, think beyond bangers and burgers. Meller loves to slow-roast a larger joint beside the coals rather than over them, turning it now and then, letting time and gentle heat do the work. Whole fish behaves beautifully on a soaked wooden plank, which shields the flesh and lends it a soft smoke. And a shoulder of lamb on a spit, turned lazily through the afternoon, is about as good as an outdoor lunch gets. None of it is difficult. All of it just needs you to slow down.

Season early, oil the food, and rest it

Three small habits that separate a good cook from a lucky one. Season meat well ahead of time so the salt has a chance to work its way in. Oil the food rather than the grate, which keeps flare-ups down. And, above all, rest whatever you have cooked for five to ten minutes before you cut it, so the juices settle back through the meat instead of running out onto the board. Resist the urge to serve the second it comes off the fire. Pour yourself a drink while you wait, which brings us neatly to the good part.

Now, what to pour

A great barbecue deserves better than a warm lager, and this is where we come in. Our BBQ Classics edit is built for exactly this kind of afternoon, and matching the glass to the grill is half the fun.

To start, while the coals catch. Something cold and low-key in the hand as the fire settles. An Aperol Spritz is the obvious crowd-pleaser, all bittersweet orange and bubbles. If you would rather set a smarter tone, a glass of Nyetimber, England's answer to Champagne, does the job with real class.

With charred veg, chicken and prawns. Lighter plates want a chilled rosé. Calafuria from Puglia is pale, dry and gently peachy, the sort of pink that makes a warm evening feel like a holiday. It loves smoky vegetables and anything off the grill that hasn't got a heavy sauce on it.

With steak and burgers. Red meat off the fire wants a red with some flesh on it, and Malbec is the classic for a reason. Plush, dark-fruited and forgiving, it was practically invented for a chargrilled steak and a bit of pink in the middle.

With ribs, brisket and sticky, smoky things. The big, low-and-slow flavours need a big, smoky red to match. A Zinfandel field blend, jammy and peppery with a warm hum of spice, is the great barbecue wine, made to wrap itself around burnt ends and sweet, smoky glaze.

And if the party wants a cocktail. A good blanco tequila such as Casamigos turns a hot afternoon into a proper occasion. Margaritas and Palomas were made for smoke, salt and sunshine.

So there is the whole afternoon in one plan. Light the fire early and let it settle into embers. Build yourself two zones and cook with a little patience. Bury the vegetables in the coals, rest the meat before you carve, and keep something good in the glass throughout. Do that, and you are not just running a barbecue. You are doing the thing Gill Meller keeps banging on about, which is slowing down and enjoying it. Fire, food, friends and a proper drink. There are worse ways to spend a summer evening.