(sublinhados meus)
Idris Elba’s champagne makes the world seem less troubled
Gloom. Relentless rain out of a sullen sky enhanced an already pessimistic mood. We were talking geopolitics and agreeing that the West ought to brace itself for a hard landing. Try as we might, we could find no good news, anywhere.
Some of us were veterans, one or two of whom had spent time in Washington in 1980, the build-up to the Reagan era and the prelude to the most successful decade in modern peacetime history, in which Margaret Thatcher played a crucial role. By the end, the West had won the Cold War, the Soviet empire was crumbling, Marxism had become a wasm, the UK’s decades-long acquiescence in decline was over, while the Chinese appeared to be taking tentative steps towards membership of the international legal and economic system. It would shortly be possible to proclaim the end of history and herald a new world order. Sam Huntington would warn of a forthcoming clash of civilisations, but even if he proved right, we were confident that our one would win. Halcyon days.
That said, back in 1980, if anyone had claimed that an amiable former actor and a shrill female whose hold on her own party was by no means secure were about to form a transformative world-historical partnership, they would have been regarded as victims of another sort of weather: sitting for too long in a strong sun without a hat. I was one of many, including large numbers of Tories, who wholly underestimated Margaret Thatcher. O me of little faith.
Yet in those great years, a mistake was being made which would allow the enemy to counterattack. While free-marketeers took command of the economy – in Marxist terms, the base – they ignored culture: the Marxian superstructure. The assumption was that this did not matter. Although the lefties could amuse themselves in universities or theatres or TV stations, this would have little purchase on reality. How wrong that was. The left used the cultural high ground to enfilade the economy and to undermine confidence in western civilisation. Where is the self-belief of the Reagan/Thatcher years? Instead, a culture war is taking place, and the good guys are losing.
Another bottle, and I decided to rally the troops. Time for a bit of Leninism, comrades: ‘pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will’. Nor should we exaggerate our misfortunes. Why did Joe arrive with a wet jacket? Because despite its being February, he thought that it would be safe to leave home without a brolly. In London, at least, we have had a very mild winter. Other good news is that throughout the world, wine-making techniques have improved, are improving and will continue to do so. Eager new growers make regular appearances. There is no shortage of confidence in the world of viniculture.
We drank a champagne that was new to me: a Porte Noire Grand Cru blanc de blancs 2013, produced by the actor Idris Elba, which had used its time in bottle to mature into an entirely persuasive wine: subtle and sophisticated, with a long finish. It was a delightfully mood-enhancing glass. Suddenly, the world seemed less troubled. Discussion of the vintage led on to claret. Given the vagaries of climate, there will always be bad years, but these days, vignerons have learned to fight back. In the right hands, poor years can produce decent wine and 2013 is a good example.
The host produced a couple for our delectation: a Domaine de Chevalier and a Batailley. Admittedly both are classed growths, but even in a truculent vintage, each of them justified their status. They were heartening wines: the sort of beverage to invigorate the troops and send them off refreshed, back to the front line in the culture war. That cannot be won solely by drinking good wine. But it helps.
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