The recent war has transformed the New Statesman from an intellectual newscast to a theatre of angry conflict, culminating in John Lloyd's letter of divorce, in which he took exception to Richard Gott describing him as the paper's "house reactionary". I, too, took exception to this, because it is I who am the house reactionary. Unlike Lloyd, I am genuinely right wing, a disbeliever in equality, in the welfare state, in secular morality, in human rights, you name it. I probably eat babies, although my own babies as yet show no scars.
Anyway, the whole fracas reminded me of the peculiar situation of right-wingers - namely, that we don't really exist, except as bogeymen. All debates on the left are conducted among believers, and begin with an accusation of apostasy. Disbelievers are simply excluded. In this we resemble that great saint in the Catholic calendar St Joseph, victim of a droit de seigneur which allowed him no room for manoeuvre. Surely, he had something to say at every stage in the events that led to his wife's son's crucifixion, and no doubt what he had to say was sceptical, reasonable and imbued with a fatherly concern. But for the enthusiasts who recorded the events, he did not exist.
The region named after this sainted nonentity is likewise overlooked by the punters. Covering a vast area between Condrieu and Cornas on the west bank of the Rhone, St Joseph to some extent deserves its recent fate. The area under vines was expanded sixfold during the 1970s and 1980s, resulting in a glut of second-class wines that should have been sold as ordinary Cotes du Rhone.
However, St Joseph is also a treasure house of gems that are worth hunting out, as the best of them can outshine all but the greatest stars of the Rhone Valley. This is especially true of the whites, which are fruity concoctions of Marsanne and Roussanne, frequently attaining the richness and complexity of white Hermitage, while costing less than half the price.
The most remarkable white St Joseph that I have tasted is the 1999 Les Oliviers, made by the Domaine Ferraton, and on sale through Berry Bros and Rudd at £12.95 (£12.30 for the unmixed case). The domaine, now run by the fourth generation of the Ferraton family, is characterised by meticulous craftsmanship, contempt for short cuts, and a deep love of the Rhone Valley and its terroirs. This wine is bottled unfined and unfiltered, and has a golden clarity and an almond aroma that keep your eyes, your lips and your nose firmly attached to the glass. The very opposite of industrial Chardonnay in its soft-spoken tones and intensely local character, it is nevertheless full-bodied, rich and mellow, an excellent accompaniment to boiled fowl, and also to more delicate dishes: babies, for instance.
