In 1587 Francis Drake sacked Cadiz and returned to blightie with, amongst other spoils, 2,900 barrels of Sherry. Britain's love affair with sherry was launched, but it hasn't all been plain sailing. Plagued with an image problem, Sherry has for many years been left off the list, but now it is fashionable once again, and finally getting the recognition it deserves as an estimable companion to food.
And nowhere is this better expressed than at Capote y Toros, a Tapas and Sherry bar found at what has rapidly become the Iberian end of the typically Gallic Old Brompton Road.
Boasting over 100 different Sherries, this competes for London's broadest range, and during a whirlwind hour, Eric, the resident master of all things Jerrez, whisks me through a guided selection of their finest. It is a Sherry master class and a tour de force in food matching, with a dish for every expression, be it the oxidised caramels and figs of Oloroso or the nutty, zesty, flors of Fino.
Two glasses are brought to the table and immediately yeasty flor aromas fill the air, mingling with the tang of a cured ham being carved off a leg only metres away. My nose has convinced me I'm in Spain, and In my excitement, I start on the darker Fino Perdido despite Eric's advice. Amber in colour it boasts a nose of delicate flor and nutty complexity that has me thinking of old oaked Chardonnay or a Vin Jaune in full pomp.
This is their own barrelling and has had some deliberate oxidation, nudging it gently into the realms of an Amontillado. Bone dry on the palate, any fruit that once was, has now receded, like a still life by an old master perhaps, faded and aged, yet curiously charming. Caramels and hints of vanilla are all that remain, and the warm alcohol balances any tartness.
The Manzanilla Papirusa by Bodegas Emilio Lustau and aged three years, is less expressive on the nose with the same delicate nuts and flor aromas, but with hints of ctirus, lime and exotic fruits too. The palate is elegant and finer than the first, with the further ageing under flor having stripped the glycerol making for a leaner mouthfeel whilst repaying the sherry with the autolytic qualities of anaerobic, biological ageing - nuts and leesy complexity.
The nuts and Olives that have helped the Sherry's voyage over the palate are cleared from the table, and two more Sherries arrive, this time accompanied by some finely sliced fois gras, a hint that the residual sugar is going to increase, and that we are moving out of Fino territory.
The first is a mahogany Amontillado Contrabandista from Bodegas Valdespino boasting a ripe nose of caramel, and confected dried fruits. Hints of cloves, oak, and sweet spice wrapped in rich figs and prunes has the mind fumbling for past whisky bottles, and the warm recollections of Sherry finished single malts.
The palate is rich and full with more acid than expected and which gently balances the sugar. This is a big mouthful, crying out for the foie gras sat seductively by the glass, and which on first taste seems to dissolve in the mouth like butter in a frying pan. Sucking the sugar from the sherry, it lightens the load leaving only the elegance of dried fruits and muted caramels.
The food and wine are a happy marriage, but the second glass, I am afraid, must come between them, and the two Sherries must vie for the ultimate affections of the foie gras.
Another Amontillado, the Classic from Bodegas Fernando de Castilla is a similar tawny colour, but the nose is older, subdued and with less obvious caramel than it's predecessor, and I am initially disappointed. Yet, dipping in again, I realise that this is the older, wiser and more sophisticated courtier, seductive through it's conversation and intellect. Herbaceous notes and medicinal hints drift into contention and its hidden complexity begins to unravel.
Taking a sip, the conversation continues, as a massive explosion of nuts and dried raisin and figs bursts over the palate. The finish is immense with seismic wave after wave of flor and caramel rolling rumbling through the palate. The foie gras is smitten and the two tumble hand in hand around my palate in happy abandon.
A hard combo to match but the Emperatiz Eugenia by Bodegas Emilio Lustau and a plate of twenty four month aged Jabugo ham step up to the mark undaunted.
The sherry is a 20 year old Oloroso, and after all the lifted flor aromas I must re-calibrate the olfactory apparatus to adjust for the clean purity that is the perfect expression of restraint. A solo flute perhaps that rises over the rest of an orchestra, that the taste buds must conduct as I take a sip.
The higher alcohol and glycerol is the tympani that holds the rhythm, the nuts and dried fruit flavours the brass and wind sections and the spicy cloves, anise and fragrant perfumes the individual instruments of the string section. As an Oloroso, this is only aged aerobically and yet the acetaldehydes of oxidation are not a million miles from those generated by flor. I express this opinion to Eric who agrees but explains, with a gesture to the back of his mouth, that oxidation only gets you so far, and the next Sherry will demonstrate this.
Bringing it to my table, he qualifies it as no less than Spain's best wine, a Palo Cortado, that rarest of Sherries that starts in one style and converts to another, an enigma, the spontaneous combustion or immaculate conception of the Sherry world.
This is the mother of all Sherries, seemingly rolling the finer qualities of all the previous expressions into one single package, and is demanding of a dish as equally exceptional. This would prove tricky for many, but not here. Pork loins with Oloroso sauce and Chorizo puree anybody? Tender, savoury, a light spicy Chorizo kick from the pure and the sweet kiss of the Oloroso. Faultless on it's own, but perfection with the Sherry.
As I sit contentedly, mesmerised, a man starts to play classical flamenco guitar and a waiter gently tells a small child that she should ditch her knife and fork and opt for her fingers. At this point I forget about professionalism, and simply bask in the cornucopia of flavours that regale my taste bud, as the ambience slides into one of total comfort.
