Issuu

C on t e n t s

Foreword

Introduction

The Importance of Being Sherish

Fewer Vineyards, More Pagos

The Solera Paradox

Crème de la Crème

Company Watch

Boutique Bodegas

The Man Who Broke the Sherry Bank

131

Fatal Attraction

139

Sherrypaedia

155

Great Expectorations

165

Tapas, Cocktails and Styles

171

Fifty Shades of Sherry

189

Printed and bound in Germany by Koësel, Munich

Glossary

216

Index

218

Acknowledgements

222

Published 2019 by Académie du Vin Library Ltd. academieduvinlibrary.com Publisher: Simon McMurtrie Editor: Susan Keevil Designers: Anna Carson, Mark Cockerton ISBN: 978-1-913141-02-8

or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

C on t e n t s

Foreword

Introduction

The Importance of Being Sherish

Fewer Vineyards, More Pagos

The Solera Paradox

Crème de la Crème

Company Watch

Boutique Bodegas

The Man Who Broke the Sherry Bank

131

Fatal Attraction

139

Sherrypaedia

155

Great Expectorations

165

Tapas, Cocktails and Styles

171

Fifty Shades of Sherry

189

Printed and bound in Germany by Koësel, Munich

Glossary

216

Index

218

Acknowledgements

222

Published 2019 by Académie du Vin Library Ltd. academieduvinlibrary.com Publisher: Simon McMurtrie Editor: Susan Keevil Designers: Anna Carson, Mark Cockerton ISBN: 978-1-913141-02-8

or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

foreword

Foreword

To someone who has never been far from a glass of sherry for most of his life (ie, 60 years or so), it is a mystery why not everyone shares my love for it. Hardly anyone, indeed, over many years. How long can anything so enjoyable be out of fashion before the tide turns, I sometimes wonder? And why is it turning now, as it undoubtedly is? I can easily account for its growing status as a ‘new-found’ speciality: a wine that doesn’t fit into any cosy category, but brings a taste and character of its own. We live in an age hungry for new experiences. You have to have faith that something so old can be new, but happily every generation comes wide-eyed to the best things in life. Then why the two-generation break in appreciating a good thing? I’m afraid it’s because much of it wasn’t all that good. An easy market is an open goal for mediocrity, and – though I blush to say it – mediocrity can sell well in this country. To adapt H L Mencken: ‘No one ever lost money underestimating the taste of the British public.’ And there were wine merchants who tested the theory to death: the near-death of sherry. What can be one of the world’s greatest wines was blended into a sweetish brownness that famously sat on sideboards from one Christmas to another. During this time the wine world grew more and more competitive; new arrivals on the scene, above all from the New World, were pretty strong, tended to be sweet (think of Australian Chardonnay in its all-conquering period) and had the lustre (or rather the glitter) of novelty. Sherry was simply old hat. Very few even knew of the existence of the dry, much lighter sherries that are now in vogue. Fino was very much a minority taste, however much it would have suited novelty-seekers buying Chardonnay. It has one brake on its success-rate, though: it is dry without compromise, and British drinkers are not the only ones who say dry and actually mean rather sweet. Cynically, perhaps, I would add another impediment to sherry’s progress: it is too cheap. Wine buyers can be hard to persuade that something at half the price can, in

some cases, be twice as good – as, for example, most popular white wines widely used as aperitifs. You cannot discuss sherry without discussing the elephant in the room: sugar. Even today the majority of sherry exported is sweet, much of it categorized as ‘cream’. Sweet wines form a category of their own, ignored by commentators and opinion-formers.The cognoscenti simply don’t expect their peers to be interested, so they turn to other things. Then what about port? In Victorian times there was a battle royal between port and sherry, both of them strong and sweet. At one time it seemed that sherry was the winner. Many factors tipped the balance, including the discovery that the royal cellars had over-ordered sherry for decades to a ludicrous amount. When they sold hundreds of dozens in a rush it hurt both the trade and the market. Phylloxera devastated the sherry vineyards, as it eventually did vineyards round the world. And sherry turned out to be a ‘style’ of wine that other hot countries could imitate. Australia, South Africa and Cyprus crowded into the market with wines often up to the standard of cheaper sherries. It was a highly competitive market, dominated by too few brands. And into this market stepped a fraudster on an epic scale. I’ll leave Ben Howkins to tell the story… Ben is an old friend of mine and a wine merchant of the old school, tirelessly dedicated to showing the world how interesting, even beautiful, and what fun wine can be. Sweet wines are his special love. For years he was a star port salesman. Then he launched the most successful Tokaji company of all time (the one, I’m happy to say, that I co-founded after the 1989 Revolution); now he’s shining his light on sherry. Don’t expect a routine sales pitch.To give you the idea, one of his port books is called Real Men Drink Port. The real sherry story, crooks included, is not straightforward. A multitude of bright, and some brilliant, people have been involved. Their different interpretations make sherry a wonderful field to explore, and yet a very easy one to enjoy, coming from a part of the world celebrated for its beauty, its climate, its dancing and horsemanship and general joie de vivre. And yet sherry remains what to me is an absurd bargain. For one bottle of a fine white burgundy I can buy six of Spain’s greatest white wine. Read on, glass in hand.

HUGH JOHNSON OBE

foreword

Foreword

HUGH JOHNSON OBE

I n t roduc t ion

he mini skirted 1960s and the kipper ties of the 1970s saw the heyday of sherry. Tutors and dons, vicars and grannies all broke social ice by uttering the immortal words: ‘Would you like a glass of sherry?’While Bordeaux, burgundy and port were all struggling to get back on their feet after the war, sherry sailed majestically on. Jerez, in Andalucía, was the destination of choice for wine visitors. Jerezanos knew how to produce wine and how to party. Their hospitality was as delightful as the chilled finos that they seem to consume 24/7. They were the first vinous playboys. Sun, Flamenco, horses and bullfighting all contributed to the sherry paradise in southern Spain.To paraphrase Harold Macmillan in another context in July 1957: ‘They’d never had it so good.’ Gradually, it all started to collapse. For the past 30 years or more, sherry volumes have been inexorably in decline. This was partly due to the rise and rise of ‘wine by the glass’, the fashion for Chardonnay and the resultant old-fashionedness of sherry. More pungently, it was the result of a single man, a local boy gone bad. A local boy who bit off more than he could chew and became as powerful as the Spanish government itself. A man who lost it all and, in doing so, was responsible for the devastating decline of this once great wine. That such an industry, such a source of pleasure, could virtually collapse is hard to believe. That it was all the fault of one man is even harder. But José Maria Ruiz-Mateos, convicted and jailed in 1985 for fraud, bamboozled even the greatest names and ran his vast empire, largely composed of prestigious sherry bodegas, into debts of over two billion euros. Sherry has yet to recover – the business, that is, not the quality of the wine, which under intense pressure has soared to new heights.

Amontillado from the barrel – or butt – with chalk at the ready for marking its quality thereon. Tabanco ‘El Pasaje’, Jerez de la Frontera.

I n t roduc t ion

Amontillado from the barrel – or butt – with chalk at the ready for marking its quality thereon. Tabanco ‘El Pasaje’, Jerez de la Frontera.

sherry

The fine arches and high ceilings of Lustau’s bodega in Las Cruces. Its maturing sherry barrels are neatly stacked four criaderas high, in keeping with sherry tradition.

introduction

Ruiz-Mateos’s financial dexterity was unprecedented in a world-class wine region. A toxic blend of misuse of government grants, unsecured loans and a general dismantling of once great sherry names that drove down quality, overshadowed everyone and everything. Only since around 2010 have sherry producers begun to recover, get their confidence back and make headway. Only in recent years have consumers begun to really appreciate the wonderful styles of wine that sherry has to offer. Only now are we beginning to reap the benefits of patience and the treasure trove that slumbers beneath sherry’s wondrous cathedral-like bodegas. A real sherry renaissance is underway. For many years I have been obsessed with the awful misfortunes of sherry. Having enjoyed its glories in the 1960s and worked in the sherry industry in the 1970s, as a natural watcher of wine trends I could not believe that such a respected and beloved wine had fallen on such hard times. This was highlighted when I sat next to a Master of Wine who said that she had never been to Jerez. This would have been unthinkable a generation ago. Jerez de la Frontera, in southern Spain, the home of sherry, used to be a magnet for all wine lovers. Enjoying a copita of fino or amontillado from the cask in a sherry bodega was akin to extolling the virtues of great En Primeur claret drawn from the barrel in a Bordeaux chai. And probably more fun. It was during my week at the annual Feria del Caballo, in Jerez, during May 2017, that I became overwhelmingly convinced that the wider world – all lovers of good wine – should be aware of the vinous treasures that Jerez has to offer. I was encouraged by friends of all ages, who urged me on to tell this beguiling story. Julian Jeffs’ classic book Sherry is without parallel. Recent books have, quite rightly, focused on tapas and cocktails. Sherry, Maligned, Misunderstood, Magnificent! is more of a personal take on the current sherry scene. There have been so many recent ownership changes that I have now clarified ‘who owns who’ in Jerez. Many historic sherry brands have been consigned to the nostalgia heap. Many new boutique bodegas are now ruling the waves. The new pago or vineyard classification that is so vital to sherry’s future quality reputation has brought this wonderful wine right up to date. Above all, the focus here is on those innovative sherry companies that are bringing the different styles of sherry back to life. The bone dry manzanillas and finos, the elegantly nutty amontillados, palo cortados and olorosos, and the decadent Pedro Ximénez (PXs) – all of these styles form the bedrock of the sherry region.

The 1980s, 1990s and 2000s saw the consistent decline, year on year, of sherry sales. To lighten the tone against such a torrid background, I have explored how sherry has variously featured in popular culture, from Shakespeare to Mary Poppins, from Frankie Valli to Monty Python. As I write this in the cold winter months of 2019, I have a slightly jealous flashback to that feria in the heat of the Andalusian summer. My overriding sense then was that of fun, cautious optimism and dedication. Jerezanos are proud, charming people, with a sunny outlook. Nothing can illustrate this better than witnessing a Flamenco dancer enthralling her raucous but respectful and happy audience as they enjoy copita after copita of glorious chilled fino sherry in a private caseta. Placing her elegant hand firmly astride the hip, her haughty, puckered look expresses a foreboding sensuality. Then, with a click of the heels, a strut of the leg, and a thrust of the cascade of dark hair, she is off, her sensuously turning wrists evoking an abounding passion that ebbs and flows to the accelerating Flamenco beat. Outside, the sun was intense. A swathe of horse-drawn carriages processed around a hot sandy track; pretty long-haired girls in traditional Flamenco dresses gathered and fluttered in twos and threes. Elegant gentleman in bespoke suits joined in a myriad of conversations, twisting and turning, as their smiling faces convulsed into infectious laughter. The jeunesse dorée were out to play.

‘Jerezanos are proud, charming people, with a sunny outlook. Nothing illustrates this better than witnessing a Flamenco dancer enthralling her raucous but respectful audience...’

sherry

The fine arches and high ceilings of Lustau’s bodega in Las Cruces. Its maturing sherry barrels are neatly stacked four criaderas high, in keeping with sherry tradition.

introduction

‘Jerezanos are proud, charming people, with a sunny outlook. Nothing illustrates this better than witnessing a Flamenco dancer enthralling her raucous but respectful audience...’

sherry

The Feria del Caballo in Jerez de la Frontera is the beating heart of sherry. It is here that the Jerezanos celebrate their unique wine, their fine horses and their mesmerizing dance. Over half a million half bottles of fino sherry will be consumed, and traditional Spanish dress is de rigueur.

introduction

The Feria del Caballo in its home town of Jerez de la Frontera is the beating heart of sherry. Over half a million half bottles are consumed each year during this week-long feria. That is three million glasses of fino. By quirky contrast, one and a half million half-bottles are consumed each year during the annual feria in nearby Seville. That is nine million glasses. Although here the other great dry sherry style, manzanilla, is favoured. As the name of this feria implies, the horse is the absolute protagonist of this traditional annual event. This symbol of great breeding presides over the grounds of the González Hontoria Park during the magnificent parade of horses and horse-drawn carriages that dominates this extraordinary show. Sherry is a happy drink. Even happier now that this famous Andalusian wine has escaped from the narrow waisted, and narrow minded, ghastly (and

clumsy) Elgin schooner glasses of yesteryear. Sherry is beginning to feel truly liberated. She can now be swirled around a decent-sized wine glass, just like any other fine wine. Sherry can now flirt with the finest and dance with the best. I think granny and the vicar may be a touch bemused and bewildered by the swirling and dancing analogy, but there is no doubt about it, sherry is on the march again. To many, sherry is feminine in the summer, with those delicate and freshly chilled manzanillas and finos, and masculine in the winter, with its warming and lively amontillados and olorosos. Spring and autumn are times for the beguiling palo cortados. Christmas is the high spot for unctuous PX. And what about cream sherries? Well produced, wonderful and popular as they are, and will continue to be, they cannot reflect the true terroir and maturing solera system that create the soul of sherry. Cream sherries – rich or pale – are a particularly English invention. None the worse for that, but they answered a cold climate demand, rather than achieving the sensitive character of the unique location and climate of the Sherry Triangle in southern Spain. Sherry can only come from the vineyards of the Sherry Triangle. Bounded by Jerez de la Frontera to the north, Puerto de Santa Maria to the south and Sanlúcar de Barrameda to the west, these languid, undulating fields of vines are all close to the Atlantic Ocean.They also benefit from their proximity to the aridness of Africa and the gentleness of the Mediterranean Sea. Atlantic breezes entwine with the soft Levante winds which waft through the highceilinged bodegas. These majestic stone built edifices act as grand warehouses for the maturation of this unique wine. Precision ageing through the solera system has enabled sherry to achieve a near cult status in the pantheon of wine. A keen knowledge and appreciation of sherry was once indispensable for the wine connoisseur. He or she was as well versed in the nuances of fino and complexities of amontillado as they were in the terroirs of Bordeaux. For centuries, sherry was the recognized aperitif of all England.With the growth of cream and rich sherries, it could also be enjoyed after dinner. Every self-respecting Oxford don, each welcoming rural vicar, hundreds and thousands of dear old grannies, would open the conversation with the immortal words: ‘Would you like

A tiled map (and Tío Pepe advertisement) showing the vineyards of Jerez, and some of its most important pagos. These special vineyard sites – whose characteristics were all but lost in the bulk blends of the 1970s – are thankfully returning to the fore, and becoming a major feature of many of today’s sherries.

sherry

introduction

The Importance of Being Sherish

T he I mportance

B eing

S h e r i sh

Map of Jerez by Francisco Zarzana in 1787, showing Jerez de la Frontera, Sanlúcar de Barrameda and Puerto de Santa Maria and their surrounding topography.

Sherry, rather like Ernest in Oscar Wilde’s brilliant trivial comedy for serious people, The Importance of being Earnest, started off life with a different name. In the play, Jack Worthing adopts the alias Ernest when he wishes to visit London incognito. He falls in love with Gwendolen, who explains to him that she absolutely wants to marry someone called Ernest, because the name sounds so solidly aristocratic. Confused and crestfallen, Jack has many adventures in this delightful but preposterous play, before he eventually discovers, via the classic ‘handbag’ scene, that he was indeed christened Ernest, so his marriage to Gwendolen can go ahead. Sherry’s home is in Andalucía, in southwest Spain. The original dwelling place was known as Xera by the Phoenicians, Ceret by the Romans and Sherish or Seris by the Moors, who from 711 dominated Spain for 500 years. When the Christians conquered the town in 1264, they christened it Xeres. Xeres gradually transformed into the name Jerez, which officially became Jerez de la Frontera in 1380. Jerez is pronounced ‘hereth’, with a guttural ‘h’ in Andalusian Spanish. This was a bit difficult for the English to say with any confidence. So Jerez became ‘sherry’. The Spaniards thus produce a world class wine, whose international name was essentially created by the English. Maybe it should revert to Sherish? Or would that suggest one had already had several glasses of this fine stuff? In comparison, I cannot imagine the French being so accommodating. Although it’s perhaps of note that the names for their ‘claret’ in the UK and ‘burgundy’ internationally are recognizably English.

I am indebted to my old friend the eminent wine historian Charles Minoprio MW, for his brilliantly quirky, if sometimes alternative, take on the beginnings of sherry: ‘Wine production in Jerez actually predates the Roman occupation. It was shipped in amphorae to Rome, which proved the beginning of outsider interference with the sherry trade.The wines were so good and plentiful that, in AD 92, the ruthless, egotistical Emperor Domitian ordered the grubbing up of the vines [likely in favour of more practical cereal crops] as he had done in Gaul.The order was rescinded by Emperor Probus in AD 283. As in France, the growers were quite adept at avoiding these little irritations, but it was the taste of things to come.The Romans stayed until about AD 409.Was it the sewage system, immigration or the Brussels type bureaucracy that did for them? TheVandals stayed just long enough, 20 years, to name Andalucía – Vandalucia. This is, I think, disputed, but seems good to me.They were supplanted by theVisigoths – allies of Rome – who became Christian, but increasingly decadent until they were kicked out by the Moors in AD 711.Their arrival began a period of artistic civilization, possibly unique in European history.’

Left: Bacchus, the Roman god of the grape harvest. The Romans undoubtedly enjoyed the wines of Jerez, which they knew as ‘Ceret’. Evidence of their presence in the region abounds. (Statue from the Louvre, Paris.) Right: Seville’s Alcázar – its upper floors still inhabited by the Spanish royal family – is built on the site of a Muslim fortress. Its striking Moorish architecture inspires visitors and historians alike.

The Moors (north African Arabs, or Muslims), rulers of Sherish from 711, ensured that vineyards were replanted and cultivated.There was a slight hitch in 966, according to Charles Minoprio, when: ‘The Caliph had one of the periodic fits of religiosity that used to afflict the Vatican when discussing the lucrative business of concubinage, and consequently viticulture was banned.The growers argued that their grapes were needed to feed the army, and continued to grow them in a rather subdued way until the hard-line Caliph passed away.’

The Importance of Being Sherish

T he I mportance

B eing

S h e r i sh

Map of Jerez by Francisco Zarzana in 1787, showing Jerez de la Frontera, Sanlúcar de Barrameda and Puerto de Santa Maria and their surrounding topography.

Sherry

The Moors introduced the alembic for distilling wine – the distillate was used to fortify sherry so it would become stable enough to transport.

King Alfonso the Sage – a 13th century believer in the quality of ‘sherry’ wines.

Muslims are famously teetotal, but doubtless relished growing vines to provide grapes and raisins for the table and for medicinal purposes. They were also happily tolerant of Christians and Jews, who certainly enjoyed a copita or two. Moorish domination gave Andalucía a period of expanding wealth. The Muslim legacy of architecture and buildings is still present for all to see and enjoy today. Cue the Alhambra in Granada and the Alcázar in Seville. These are as remarkable achievements, both architecturally and innovatively, and have inspired Spain’s determination to maintain its heritage. It was within this creative atmosphere that the vineyards around Jerez, the most southern in continental Europe, thrived. The wine produced may not have been sherry as such, but as the vines multiplied, so the prosperity and confidence of this agricultural population grew. This was immediately recognized by King Alfonso, who in 1269, just five years after the Christians moved in, granted Royal Arms to Jerez. Alfonso the Sage, as he was affectionately known, actively encouraged the cultivation of the vine. He personally spent time in the vineyards and recognized their quality. This royal patronage helped define the wines of Jerez. Sherry was born. This confidence continued unabated throughout the Christian era. As Chaucer described in the Pardoner’s Tale: ‘This wine of Spain creepeth subtilly’. He also tells of the ‘fumositee’ of the wines of Lepe – a coastal Andalusian town 112 kilometres to the west of Jerez, beyond the Sherry Triangle. He confirmed the strength of the wine by saying that ‘if you drank too much, you would not know whether you were in Cheapside or Lepeside’. The Moors had also introduced the alembic, a simple pot still, which enabled the Spanish to distil wine for the fortification of sherry. Once fortified, the wines became sufficiently stable to enable them to be shipped to the important English market. The first recorded shipment of sherry to England was in 1340, nearly 700 years ago. Perhaps the fact that King Edward III had declared war on France in January of that year had accelerated the demand for wine from other countries, one of which was Spain? Quite remarkably, the vinous association between Spain and England has survived – despite the occasional battle and some ill-advised sacking – ever since this time. No country has been more faithful in its reverence for sherry than England. And even though the current consumption figures have taken a considerable knock, it isn’t the first time this has happened, as we shall see.

In 1380, King Juan I granted the privilege of adding ‘de la Frontera’ to several border towns and cities in recognition of the sterling work that the inhabitants had achieved in keeping out the Moors. A century later, in 1482, the influential coopers’ guild stipulated that the capacity of the sherry cask, the universally recognized sherry ‘butt’ – from the Spanish bota – must be fixed at ‘30 arrobas’, which translates to 500 litres. An aroba is a measure of grapes by weight, around 11.5 kilograms, or a measure of wine by volume equivalent to 16.7 litres. Somewhat incredibly, this exact measure of grapes and wine is still in play today. And happily prescient of future quality control regulations, the coopers also decreed that the butts ‘must be cut and assembled with good wood that was not tainted by fish or oil’. This period in Spanish history is notable for the extraordinary maritime voyages of ‘fearless sea dogs’. Italy’s Christopher Columbus and Portugal’s Ferdinand Magellan both gathered their trusty sailors from Andalucía. Columbus famously discovered America in 1492 and in so doing, established Sanlúcar de Barrameda – the coastal town just 14 kilometres from Jerez – as a major port for this new American trade. In 1519, Magellan, on setting out to circumnavigate the world, famously spent more on sherry (probably fino) than on armaments. He obviously knew how to keep his crew happy. It may be an exaggeration to say that the 16th century was sherry’s sweetest hour, but this time span was certainly influential in spreading the

During the Age of Exploration the ports of Cádiz and Sanlúcar de Barrameda were the starting points for many voyages to the New World and East Indies. On many of these voyages, stocking up on ample supplies of the area’s wine was considered a necessity. Christopher Columbus almost certainly had sherry with him on his voyages to America, which makes sherry, in all likelihood, the first wine brought to the New World.

Sherry

The Moors introduced the alembic for distilling wine – the distillate was used to fortify sherry so it would become stable enough to transport.

King Alfonso the Sage – a 13th century believer in the quality of ‘sherry’ wines.

fewer vineyards, More pagos

F ewer V ineyards , more

Pag os One of the contradictions of sherry – which is after all one of the most recognizable wine names in the world – is how little is known about its vineyards. Wine enthusiasts have instant recall when it comes to vineyard names in Burgundy or Bordeaux, but far less when it comes to port and virtually none when it comes to sherry or Champagne. Yet as the wine critic Tim Atkin MW reminds us, in the 19th century, Jerez’s Macharnudo Alto vineyard was as famous as Burgundy’s Clos de Vougeot or Germany’s Bernkasteler Doctor. It is not that vineyards do not matter in Jerez or Champagne. They do. It is more that in these two wine regions, the vast majority of wines are a blend of different years, so there is little hype or angst about a particular vineyard in a particular year. Champagne and Jerez have more in common than might first appear. Both are white wines; both produce delightful dry aperitif wines; both produce excellent rich dessert wines; both wines need long maturation to achieve their own special characteristics; both regions focus on brands rather than vineyards and, crucially, both regions share the same chalky soil benefits. Champagne is made from the Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier grape varieties, whereas Jerez relies almost exclusively on the Palomino grape, with a touch of Moscatel and Pedro Ximénez. Champagne sparkles while sherry is fortified. But what clearly unites them is that these two wine regions – one in northern France and the other in southern Spain – produce, arguably, the finest, most refreshing and most satisfying aperitif wines in the world. The key lies in the white, chalky, calcium carbonate soil, which ensures the vital acidity in both these wines. In Champagne, this soil type retains moisture, giving the grapes a built-in humidifier, which enables them to become rich in nitrogen. Underground cellars have also been more easily hewn out over the centuries. It is this same stretch of soil that, followed to the west, shows itself in the white cliffs of Dover. Farther along the south coast of England, this happy soil strata pops up in Kent, Sussex, Surrey,

Hampshire, Wiltshire, Dorset and Cornwall, providing wonderful opportunities for English winemakers to grow their own fizz. Walking through top quality sherry vineyards, the chalky soil may not always be apparent, but deep down, it is there. In Jerez it is called albariza, and the best vineyards – those in the Jerez Superior region – are composed entirely from it, in many cases down to a depth of six metres. In the summer, this same white chalky soil helps ripen the grapes by reflecting the sun’s rays onto the underside of the bunches of grapes. Albariza soil can also absorb as much as 34 percent of its weight in water, which is a welcome trait in this dry landscape. With an average of only 600mm of rain each year in Jerez, it is vital to make maximum use of any moisture available. When dried by the sun, the albariza shines and reflects; when washed by rain it becomes slippery mud, but once the sun is out again it reverts back to its natural state. All this contributes to an essential equilibrium in the vineyards. Albariza contains limestone and, as in all quality wine regions, it is this sub-soil that is the key to the vine’s nourishment. There is evidence that the first classification of vineyards was in 1740. At that time there were 12 different types of albariza soil listed and 14 different grape varieties. This was not unusual as the more varieties, the healthier the insurance if one or more underperformed at harvest. It also allowed for greater blending opportunities to achieve the best result each year. The practice was similar for Tokaji and for port – and as with sherry, many fewer grape varieties are being planted now for these wines. The dreaded phylloxera virus changed everything.To survive it, vineyards had to be replanted with disease-resistant rootstock, and Palomino (the best grape for making sherry) was almost uniformly the growers’ choice. Nowadays, virtually 98 percent of all sherry plantations feature Palomino grapes that have been bench grafted onto American roots that are not affected by the phylloxera louse. There are constant experiments with different Palomino clones, to help eliminate diseases such as fan leaf. (The current favourite seems to be the California clone, combining high quality with high yield.) And cordon pruning is an important factor in the overall quality stakes, controlling the vigour of the vines so their grape yield is lower, but higher in concentration.

Left: Palomino grapes are the mainstay of Jerez’ vineyards; their juicy, low-acid fruit and delicate character makes them a perfect base for making sherry. Right: After the phylloxera epidemic of the 1890s most of Europe’s vineyards had to be replanted with vine cuttings that were bench-grafted (as pictured) onto disease-resistant American rootstock. This clever vineyard tactic is now common practice.

fewer vineyards, More pagos

F ewer V ineyards , more

tapas, cocktails and styles

styles of sherry. This took time, but now the menu takes leadership from the sherry styles. A new Tabanco branch opened in Cambridge in March 2019. This is a big step forward for sherry, which now accounts for 25 percent of the bar’s wine sales. The emphasis is on informality. This is helped, as in most tapas bars, by most dishes or plates being priced at or below the £10 point.The fact that you may well enjoy two or three of these plates somehow does not enter the little grey cells. The enigmatic Hart brothers, Sam and Eddie, have four branches of their Barrafina bars. Their concept of open kitchens, bar seating and no reservations combined with excellent smiley service, hits the spot. Served chilled in proper glasses, the sherries that accompany the dishes in these delightful surroundings are invariably from the boutique bodega brigade – plus the sherry masters, González Byass. SaltYard, which also trades under the names Dehesa and EmberYard, is run by Sanja Morris and Georgina Laing and adds happily to the tapas scene in London. It has to be said that almost all of these outlets admit that they sell far more wine than sherry, but it is the sherry that gives gravitas. Boqueria’s two branches are equally fun to visit. They have nine sherries, which is enterprising, but what is surprising is that four are dry styles and five are sweet or dulce styles. Apparently, the British consumer is still not totally on board about the myriad of manzanillas, finos, amontillados and palo cortados that offer such delight and value. Sherry still vies with port as a drink for dessert or after food. The outlets with by far the most enterprising and exciting range of sherry – carefully selected by Peter Dauthieu – by the glass and by the bottle, are within Abel Lusa’s expanding empire, and include such enticing names as Capote y Toros, Tendido Cero and Tendido Cuatro. These are modern and friendly bars where the fortunate consumer has over 50 sherries to choose from. Almost a full time job. All these dishes and tapas allow the different styles of sherry to complement them in their natural habitat. Food pairing is relatively easy. It is the different styles of sherry – manzanilla, fino, amontillado, palo cortado, oloroso and PX – that create sherry’s strengths as a natural food pairer. In basic terms, a manzanilla or fino favours fish and asparagus; an amontillado goes best with nuts, smoked fish and soups; a palo cortado or oloroso with game, tuna and cured cheese; cream sherries with foie gras and fresh fruits, and PX with ice cream, chocolate and blue cheese. Sherry is closer to the table than

Here, at Brindisa’s Soho branch, fresh, authentic tapas are served alongside sherry. As proprietor Monika Linton says: ‘Brindisa was born on a shoestring with a box of cheese.’ But times have changed since those unknowing 1980s days. Business is buzzing now.

Left: traditional Spanish tapas are served in restaurants and bars for sharing with friends.

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tapas, cocktails and styles

Left: traditional Spanish tapas are served in restaurants and bars for sharing with friends.

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