For most people the word Sherry conjures up images of sticky brown liquids dragged reluctantly from the same bottle in Great Aunt Mildred’s drinks cabinet, Christmas after Christmas (with a possible funereal exception) and forced to be sipped even more reluctantly by people who subsequently look exceptionally grave, even if they hadn’t before.
This is, of course, an abomination. I would wager that almost all people who claim to hate Sherry are basing it on the experience of tasting from a tired old bottle which has been open to the air, dust, flying insects, and an atmosphere that smells faintly but distinctively of lavender and old lady’s wee, for year upon year. Of course, you’d hate the finest of cheeses, cakes, chocolate, truffle or anything else, had they been subjected to such treatment.
Understandably, even the people who vaguely liked the stuff grew to regard it with disdain and a sense of anachronism. Sales fell away. However, the generation of Great Aunt Mildreds is gradually making its exit, and now is the time to think again!
Sherry vineyards
The word Sherry is a corruption of the Spanish Jerez, which is in itself a corruption of the Moorish word Xerez. All three are featured on the seal of the local authority (“Consejo Reguladorâ€). Maybe they’d be better off using one of the other words, but fashions can and do change, and Sherry’s renaissance is well overdue.
Sherry, although laden with heritage, is first and foremost, a wine, and needs to be treated as such. Serve chilled (almost invariably although it is a matter of taste) from a fresh, recently opened bottle. Sherry is a fortified wine, with extra alcohol added, but many are no stronger than normal table wines.
Other Sherries, such as Amontillado and Oloroso, are fortified to an alcoholic strength that prevents the flor growing, and also eliminates the risk of bacterial spoilage (vinegar mainly), and so the wines are aged open to the air, which oxidizes them and allows them to develop nutty flavours to accompany their range of tawny to nut-brown hues. These are the Sherries that may subsequently be sweetened (with a dried grape raisin wine called Pedro Ximenez, which is also Sherry*, and occasionally sold separately), but are nevertheless at their most sublime when left dry.
No wine is a better accompaniment for soup than Sherry (the whole liquid with liquid thing is very difficult to match) from a Fino with gazpacho to a deep Oloroso with a rich onion or oxtail stew-like soup, this is one of the world’s greatest food and wine matches. Sherries that have the extra fortification and are already oxidized can be left in an open bottle for a few weeks, but will go stale after that, so that bottle of Something-Cream that your granny pulls from the cupboard every year needs to be consigned to a detested pot-plant as soon as you possibly can. Apart from (and maybe including) the pot-plant, everyone’s a winner in that scenario.