The magic of sherry
I love sherry. It makes a beautiful and sophisticated start
to any evening. There’s a bar in Madrid that serves nothing else, and when we
visited we had an amazing night.
Maybe it’s something in the Andalusian soul that seeps
into the grapes, something to do with careful aging in quiet bodegas or just
that my sherry glasses are so lovely, but sherry seems to have an air of calm
and quiet about it. Whether I’m drinking manzanilla or fino under the July sun
or sipping an oloroso or amontillado by the fireside at our friend Chris's flat in
November, I find there’s something inherently mindful about the experience.
Image: S Fogarty |
I never serve sweet sherry as an aperitif. I may be
influenced by remembering something awful in a schooner with a cherry across
the top in a Merseyside restaurant, circa 1986. More likely, it’s simply that
the best sweet sherry, Pedro Ximinès, is simply too sweet to really benefit the
appetite and sits much better as an accompaniment to nuts and dried fruits as
an afternoon treat, or an alternative to port with salty blue cheese.
All dry sherry is made from white grapes. What gives darker
sherries their distinctive colour and nutty taste is oxidation, the chemical reaction
that takes place when wine is exposed to air. In any other wine, this would be
a bad thing, but centuries of learning, skill and careful handling have shown
sherry producers how to control the process in ways that actually benefit the
wine. The lighter, fresher varieties are sometimes aged almost as long, but have
spent their entire life under a film of flor,
a yeast that grows naturally in the Andalusian climate, preventing the
oxidation and leaving the wines tasting as fresh and young as when they were
first fermented. With palo cortado sherries, the flor has been broken part way
through the aging process, to leave some freshness but also to allow a slight
nuttiness to develop. The best of both worlds, you could say.
Image: S Fogarty |
If I’m serving sherry, as I did at a dinner to celebrate the
wonderful culinary heritage of Andalusia some years ago, I will always serve
Spanish foods to nibble on. Nothing beats anchovy-stuffed olives, air-dried ham
and salted almonds with a bold, dry fino. For the coastal manzanilla wines,
with their slightly salty tang, try boquerones
(marinated anchovy fillets), or mojama
cured tuna. Amontillado and oloroso sherries have a darker taste, reminiscent
of nuts, fresh mushrooms and a touch of spice. These wines go really well with
Spanish cured meats like lomo and chorizo. Why not be courageous and serve
morcilla, the gorgeous, garlic- and wine-laden black pudding of the area?
Image: S Fogarty |
Next time: Madeira and other fortified wines
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