The scene outside the atmospheric Antica Bottega del Vino in Verona, Italy, at midnight was friendly and peaceful. More than 30 people on the cobbled streets outside had thin-stemmed Riedel glasses of wine in their hands. Most had been drinking all day at the Vinitaly wine fair but, despite all the alcohol, there was not a trace of bad behaviour or aggression even when a car driver dared to make his way past. All just either laughed or dutifully moved out of the way of the intruder.

My enjoyment of the scene was, however, rather spoilt by the comment of a 22-year-old Oxford graduate. Looking round the peaceful scene, in obvious contrast to what he had witnessed during his three years at university, he said: “I wonder whether I will live long enough to see such a friendly atmosphere outside a pub or wine bar at midnight in the UK.”

The potentially disruptive power of alcohol in the UK – branded in a recent report as more damaging than several drugs listed as Class A – has to be a cause of shame to anyone living there. As someone who has profited from the sale of alcohol, whose wine-writer wife continues to do so and who has children, my concern is heightened.

As I strolled back to my hotel from the enoteca past numerous ­similar establishments in Verona’s city centre, it struck me that there is a fundamental reason why these customers’ wine, probably twice as strong as British beer, was being absorbed and enjoyed seemingly so peacefully.

It has nothing to do with any of the measures employed so heavy-handedly by government either via taxes, health warnings or licensing laws, and much to do with something that all those in the drinks industry could easily underwrite to ameliorate this damaging situation. And that something is food.

Few of the stands at Vinitaly failed to offer small baskets of food for any visitor to help themselves, whether salami, breadsticks or, on the Emilia-Romagna stands, small chunks of delicious Parmesan cheese. As a result, no one drank without eating. Behind the counter of Antica Bottega del Vino was a blackboard offering an array of small plates of food and a couple of chefs working desperately hard to keep up with demand.

Italians are past masters of l’aperitivo but just how far advanced is their management of young drinkers only struck me as we walked into Via Roma 33, an ultra-modern café and bar directly opposite Verona’s medieval Castelvecchio.

It was 7.30pm and the bar was typical of any in a busy, prosperous European city on a Friday evening. The tables were packed with customers in their early 20s, of whom many were women, celebrating the end of another working week.

Everyone was drinking, either wine or cocktails that were being poured freely (i.e. without a measure) by the Scottish barman. After we had ordered our drinks, he invited us to help ourselves to the food on the bar or on the buffet in the corner.

On the counter were plates of nuts, olives and a variety of vegetable crudités. For those who had gone straight to a table a couple of waitresses circulated with plates of food that one chef was compiling. Others went directly to the buffet which contained trays of salami and cheese, two chafing dishes keeping hot a pasta dish and slices of pizza, and a tiered fruit dish with tangerines, sliced melon and pineapple.

All were there for the customers to enjoy free of charge, a not entirely altruistic inducement to stay which appeared to be highly successful as, by 10.30pm when we walked past, the bar was full and again, as at Antica Bottega del Vino, there was no sign of unruly behaviour. And all this while they were drinking good wine at €2-€3 a glass, a fifth of the UK price.

I am sure that this comparison is not as black and white as it would appear. But what my Italian experience does appear to show is not just that alcohol is absorbed into the blood stream more slowly, and less dramatically, whenever it is accompanied by food – a feature that distinguishes a wider European approach to alcohol than that practised in the Anglo-Saxon world – but a physical one, too. We cannot physically drink and eat at the same time and, as a consequence, the presence of food effectively limits the speed with which anyone can drink.

I learnt this as a restaurateur whenever organising a reception or party. Unless a strict limit was fixed on the number of bottles to be served there was invariably an embarrassing discussion with the organiser after the event because, not surprisingly as it was free, more alcohol had been consumed than anticipated. The solution I stumbled upon, sometimes but not always accepted by the client, was to increase the amount of food on offer. While their guests were eating, I tried to convince them, they could not be drinking and the bill would be no higher.

The move away from even a single drink with lunch is only exacerbating the situation because with often only a little food inside them many are falling into pubs and wine bars shortly after work, further enticed by a happy hour offer, to enjoy a glass of wine or beer as quickly as possible. The eight-deep queue at the All Bar One in London’s Canary Wharf one weekday evening recently, where there was no food on offer on the bars, was clear proof of this ­phenomenon.

Drinks companies are surely making sufficient profits out of our young drinkers to look for new and imaginative solutions to a problem that affects everyone in the British hospitality industry.

Travel from the UK across Europe over the past 30 years has been one of the most significant factors in the greater appreciation of good food and cooking. Now it is time for all those who benefit from the sale of alcohol to realise that the widespread availability of free and simple, or copious but inexpensive, bar food could help solve the socially disruptive and costly problems increasingly obvious around Britain today. A united approach would achieve this in less time than it has taken to convince many young Europeans that it is now possible to eat so well in the UK.