Photograph: Getty Images
Show Hide image

The value of spending more time in the buff

Don't be afraid of the wine experts.

I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to coax drinkers out from under the sofa, whence they have retreated in fear at the endless complications of wine. The vintage! The provenance! The magic involved in turning grape juice into giggle juice!

The wine bore bludgeons his unwilling audience into dull-eyed acquiescence with a rock-pile of words; I’m much more efficient. I just yell “malolactic fermentation!” and they all jostle for space beneath the furniture.

When I’m feeling more sociable, I point out that wine is only as complicated as anyone wants to make it. There’s red and white, sweet and dry.

A little further up the scale, you can pick a country, or a style and before you know it, you’re fretting over the taste of different varieties or pondering soil type or trying to remember whether Cabernet Sauvignon predominates on the right or left bank of Bordeaux’s Garonne river. (It’s the left. The right is mostly Merlot.)

I love wine not despite its endless complications but because of them: there are stories hiding under every vineyard pebble. But I try to share them judiciously. Wine merchants, sommeliers and to a certain extent, wine writers, should be able to find you a wine you want to drink without telling you more about it than you want to know. That is what they are there for.

I stress this basic point because I don’t think most people realise that wine people don’t know everything – and they like it that way. They’re comfortable with wine as a lifelong process of learning. I went to a lunch given by the Wine Society last week where a hefty man got up and talked about his Domaine de Simonet Bourboulenc, then his slenderer chum from down the road at Château Ollieux Romanis spoke about his white Corbières.

I learned that the Bourboulenc grape flourishes in the Languedoc; that it needs light but not necessarily heat; and that this expression of it has a touch of citrus, a background toffeeish richness and goes very well with truffle risotto.

Then I found out that the Corbières was so intensely aromatic that its perfume reached me about a minute before the rim of the glass did, that it is 50 per cent Marsanne, 50 per cent Roussanne and 5 per cent Grenache Blanc – and that Carcassonne winemakers can’t do maths. It also goes extremely well with truffle risotto.

How much of this do you need to know? It depends if you’re looking for a match for your dinner, a better understanding of how wine works, or an endless conversation about how best to grow Bourboulenc.

Wine geeks are those who want all three, who see wine as a glorious sea of unknowns in which they can splash around and then strike out with their best breaststroke for the horizon, confident they’ll never reach it.

I once saw two experts – one a winemaker, the other a Master of Wine – blind taste a wine, trying to guess what it was. They pondered its colour, debated its flavours, murmured about its length (how long those flavours stay in the mouth) – they could have been there all day; but another geek came over, stuck his nose in the glass, said “it’s Burgundy, isn’t it?” and walked off.

He was right but he didn’t embarrass them so much as spoil their fun. There are a very few proper faux pas in wine – don’t say you like Chablis but you hate Chardonnay, because Chablis is made of Chardonnay – but then there are in other, less fearsome fields, too; the biggest faux pas in wine, to my mind, is to assume the buff is sneering at you when they’re probably trying to use their hardwon knowledge to choose something that you’ll enjoy drinking.

If you’re not a geek, you can always ask one for help; and if you’re neither a learner nor an asker, then there is my sofa: run and hide.

Next issue: John Burnside on nature

Nina Caplan is the 2014 Fortnum & Mason Drink Writer of the Year and 2014 Louis Roederer International Wine Columnist of the Year for her columns on drink in the New Statesman. She tweets as @NinaCaplan.

This article first appeared in the 04 March 2013 issue of the New Statesman, The fall of Pistorius

Getty
Show Hide image

The New Times: Brexit, globalisation, the crisis in Labour and the future of the left

With essays by David Miliband, Paul Mason, John Harris, Lisa Nandy, Vince Cable and more.

Once again the “new times” are associated with the ascendancy of the right. The financial crash of 2007-2008 – and the Great Recession and sovereign debt crises that were a consequence of it – were meant to have marked the end of an era of runaway “turbocapitalism”. It never came close to happening. The crash was a crisis of capitalism but not the crisis of capitalism. As Lenin observed, there is “no such thing as an absolutely hopeless situation” for capitalism, and so we discovered again. Instead, the greatest burden of the period of fiscal retrenchment that followed the crash was carried by the poorest in society, those most directly affected by austerity, and this in turn has contributed to a deepening distrust of elites and a wider crisis of governance.

Where are we now and in which direction are we heading?

Some of the contributors to this special issue believe that we have reached the end of the “neoliberal” era. I am more sceptical. In any event, the end of neoliberalism, however you define it, will not lead to a social-democratic revival: it looks as if, in many Western countries, we are entering an age in which centre-left parties cannot form ruling majorities, having leaked support to nationalists, populists and more radical alternatives.

Certainly the British Labour Party, riven by a war between its parliamentary representatives and much of its membership, is in a critical condition. At the same time, Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership has inspired a remarkable re-engagement with left-wing politics, even as his party slumps in the polls. His own views may seem frozen in time, but hundreds of thousands of people, many of them young graduates, have responded to his anti-austerity rhetoric, his candour and his shambolic, unspun style.

The EU referendum, in which as much as one-third of Labour supporters voted for Brexit, exposed another chasm in Labour – this time between educated metropolitan liberals and the more socially conservative white working class on whose loyalty the party has long depended. This no longer looks like a viable election-winning coalition, especially after the collapse of Labour in Scotland and the concomitant rise of nationalism in England.

In Marxism Today’s “New Times” issue of October 1988, Stuart Hall wrote: “The left seems not just displaced by Thatcherism, but disabled, flattened, becalmed by the very prospect of change; afraid of rooting itself in ‘the new’ and unable to make the leap of imagination required to engage the future.” Something similar could be said of the left today as it confronts Brexit, the disunities within the United Kingdom, and, in Theresa May, a prime minister who has indicated that she might be prepared to break with the orthodoxies of the past three decades.

The Labour leadership contest between Corbyn and Owen Smith was largely an exercise in nostalgia, both candidates seeking to revive policies that defined an era of mass production and working-class solidarity when Labour was strong. On matters such as immigration, digital disruption, the new gig economy or the power of networks, they had little to say. They proposed a politics of opposition – against austerity, against grammar schools. But what were they for? Neither man seemed capable of embracing the “leading edge of change” or of making the imaginative leap necessary to engage the future.

So is there a politics of the left that will allow us to ride with the currents of these turbulent “new times” and thus shape rather than be flattened by them? Over the next 34 pages 18 writers, offering many perspectives, attempt to answer this and related questions as they analyse the forces shaping a world in which power is shifting to the East, wars rage unchecked in the Middle East, refugees drown en masse in the Mediterranean, technology is outstripping our capacity to understand it, and globalisation begins to fragment.

— Jason Cowley, Editor 

Tom Kibasi on what the left fails to see

Philip Collins on why it's time for Labour to end its crisis

John Harris on why Labour is losing its heartland

Lisa Nandy on how Labour has been halted and hollowed out

David Runciman on networks and the digital revolution

John Gray on why the right, not the left, has grasped the new times

Mariana Mazzucato on why it's time for progressives to rethink capitalism

Robert Ford on why the left must reckon with the anger of those left behind

Ros Wynne-Jones on the people who need a Labour government most

Gary Gerstle on Corbyn, Sanders and the populist surge

Nick Pearce on why the left is haunted by the ghosts of the 1930s

Paul Mason on why the left must be ready to cause a commotion

Neal Lawson on what the new, 21st-century left needs now

Charles Leadbeater explains why we are all existentialists now

John Bew mourns the lost left

Marc Stears on why democracy is a long, hard, slow business

Vince Cable on how a financial crisis empowered the right

David Miliband on why the left needs to move forward, not back

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times