Drinking Sherry in Xeres

Today morphed several times before it became the day that we ended up having, and I think it proved to us that no matter ow experienced we think we are, or how well laid our plans might be, there will always be hiccups.

We started the day earlier than yesterday, wanting take full advantage of the sunlight. I think we didn't realize how short the days would be, even though they are warmer, as the sun rises late and sets early, cutting the visiting time we have short. After tostadas con tomate at our favorite coffee spot(and saviour) in Seville, we hit the road again, this time heading toward Jerez de la Frontera and the white villages. In Jerez, the capital of Sherry-making, we planned to do some serious tasting at Gonzales-Byass, the bodega in charge of Tio Pepe sherry, which I had tried in Granada. We almost didn't make it - in Andalucia, everything is well-marked on highways and in towns, until you get to that last, crucial turn. There there is nothing. No arrow, no sign, no markers indicating the direction, and you are left endlessly looping around a traffic circle, hoping that the name of the street will magically appear on a sign, knowing that it wasn't there before. Luckily, Gonzalez-Byass was bigger than any road sign, and thank goodness too, since that is what got us into town! 

We booked our way onto the next English-language tour, and found out that Gonzalez-Byass is a BIG enterprise. The biggest Sherry producer in the country. And not because they told us on the tour, or relayed through helpful information panels. Nope - we found out when our group boarded the little red train that to tour around the premises! Yikes - it felt like a ride at Disney, if it hadn't have been for all the cobblestone roadways! 

Gonzalez-Byass is an impressive operation - long ago, they discovered the techniques for making good sherry involved letting the product mature in American Oak barrels, under a layer of protection natural yeast, while mixing the younger batches with older ones and vice-versa. How does that work? Well, the year's production to bottled in siphoned from a bottom layer of barrels. An equivalent amount of of wine is removed from a middle layer and poured in to fill the space created. Now, the same amount is removed from the top barrels and added to the middle barrels, and the space created in the top-most layer is filled up with the juices of the year's new crop of grapes. They explain it as freshness blending with maturity, always ensuring a superior product. As a result, all of the wine caves are lined with row upon row of barrels, in piles three-high. It's what creates the iconic barrel photos of Spanish sherry bodegas. It also means that, since the barrels are never truly emptied, some are VERY old. Many have the autographs of famous people who have visited, including Prince Philip, Roger Moore, Ayrton Senna, Steven Spielburg, Omar Sharif and Orson Wells, among others. A lot were Spanish celebrities, including Flamenco singers and bull fighters, that we were unfamiliar with. I could've spend all day studying the writing on the barrels. 

Onwards we went, to a giant cement dome under which were several tasting salons, which all filled up very quickly. Here, we got to try 4 different kinds of sherry, ranging from dry to sweet, using different aging techinques but all the same grapes, paired with 3 tapas. As per usual, Mario preferred the more dry end of the range, while I liked the sweeter ones. Not so sweet as to put them in the same category as dessert wines though, no. These tasted more like a really mellow, really well-balanced port wine. Very good.

We parted ways with Tio Pepe(the bodega's mascot, named for the founder's favorite uncle), and took a little drive through the mountains. Our intent was to drive through the white villages between Jerez and Ronda, which was not that far away. However, mountain driving is slow-going, and even though it was only about 130 km, it could take the better part of 2.5-3 hours, and sunset was already creeping up on us. We got as far as Arcos de la Frontera, perched precariously on the edge of a cliff, with caverns dug into the side of it, when we decide it would make a good last stop. Arcos was the perfect example of how impressive and awe-inspiring the white villages can be, and it was close enough to the main roads to allow for a quick get-away. It also offered a large grocery store where we could get provisions for our train ride back to Barcelona. 

Heading back to Sevilla, map in had, the exits from the highway got more convoluted, and the roadways not clearly marked, and somehow, what should have been a straight-forward approached became an hour's worth of turns and more turns before we found and entrance back into the city. You have to understand, once you head in the wring direction, there is no easy way to u-turn and retrace your steps. Exits pop up on only one side of the highways. Roads are only one way, or separated for miles by a large median. Somehow, we reconnected with a familiar route in the neighborhood of Triana, where we had been for Flamenco the night before, and worked our way through the narrow lanes to the safety of our parking garage. Boy, did it ever feel good to get out of that car at the end of the drive!