Sherry (Seville)

We had a later start to the day because we contacted the children, well, those still in Australia. We had selected a bakery for breakfast but it had no seating so we opted for a café a few doors down. The coffee and food was ok, but the service was, um, Spanish. You know what I mean, dear reader. Table service only which is quite common. Then it is not easy to attract the attention of staff. It is very much, relax and take it easy, it will happen when it happens.

Back at the hotel, we grabbed the camera and the map and set out for Santa Cruz. It is part of the old town with that quaint, cobbled stone charm. According to the tourist information. It also houses a hospital with Baroque architecture. It's not in the same class as the hospital in Barcelona, and is now a museum, but still worth a visit.

Columbus statue on the outskirts of Santa Cruz.

Finding Santa Cruz was easy. Finding the hospital not so much. Finding a way out, almost impossible. It is billed as an interesting area to wander around. Probably because it is easy to get lost and problematic to navigate. The tourist maps never show all the streets. Challenging. Google maps kept losing the satellite between the narrow buildings. You could be 100 metres beyond the 'turn left now' before it managed to manifest itself on the screen.

Santa Cruz streets.

It was hot. It was crowded in part. It was an endless maze of narrow streets. That didn't stop the traffic though and evidence of cars not quite fitting through a gap was scraped onto many walls. It is Seville's answer to Venice, without the canals. Eventually we found an area open enough to load the maps on the phone. It was packed with locals enjoying Spain's long weekend, courtesy of its National Day. Standing room only at the bars and cafés. It was, however, open enough to get sufficient map time to find the Hospital des los Venerables.

Found it!

Around a corner we walked away from partying locals to confront the door of the 17th century building. As doors go I've seen many more impressive examples and you couldn't score the building's Baroque credentials from the outside. That however, is as close as we got. It was closed despite a reconfirmation of the opening hours. A printed page blue-tacked to the door proclaimed an insurmountable barrier.

An unscheduled closure perhaps.

We looked at each other and laughed and walked the short distance to the garden on the outside of one of the palace walls to consider our next move. Map consulted, we plotted a course for the venue of our afternoon Sherry tasting. It was still about 20 minutes away. Once discovered, we ventured back to one of the main streets outside the old town for a beer.

Sherry brings us to today's title, Sherry by The Four Seasons from 1962. Go on, have a listen, you know you want to.

The garden.

Suitably rested, we returned to Gracias Gastro (Gastronomic Experiences and Shop) to find others had already arrived. We assumed our high chairs and chatted with the couple opposite. There were eventually 10 of us, but of the initial 8 there were a couple from the US, one from Britain and the youngsters in the group; he was from French Canada and she from Brazil. Another couple from the US joined later and, by way of introduction, apologised for being American. Hearing another American accent, the woman next to me commenced a conversation across the table almost immediately and at the first opportunity, decamped from her chair and joined her compatriots. It is behaviour I do not comprehend. We have come across a few Australians and while there is an acknowledgement, that is about the extent of it. There is no overshare and no attempt to become besties, for the next hour or so.

Antonio was our host for the tasting and he was certainly passionate and knowledgeable about both the sherries on offer and the Golden Triangle that produces them. His background is as a trained chef but he also has studied in both History snd Geography, disciplines that have all combined to make him both an informative and entertaining leader of this experience.

The master at the table.

Antonio took us through the history, the climate and the locations within the region that all contribute, along with the process, to create the sherries that are the hallmarks of the area. As with Champagne, Sherry is now subject to Designation of Origin, appellation as we would call it, and the name can no longer be appropriated by other regions to label their products. This is fair enough when you compare Australian "sherry" with the real McCoy. Actually don't compare them, the Australian product is inferior.

The beginning.

As with all the tastings we have done in Spain, we worked up a thirst in anticipation of the actual tasting. We heard about the 10 types of sherries and the 3 grape varieties, as well as the blending between oak barrels and the use of yeast and sugar to ferment and fortify the wine.

There is clearly a vast amount of science involved in replicating this method, year after year, but ultimately, a sherry master has the final say over what goes into the bottles to ensure the product is consistently of the same quality and style expected. Romance is not dead and science does not totally rule.

We tasted sherries from dry to fino to sweet, ending with Pedro Ximenez, all accompanied by perfectly paired food offerings of olives, crackers, cheese, sausage and apples. I don't think any of the participants were sherry aficionados but the sherries were all excellent examples of the range of this wine, and we appreciated their qualities, despite not being in the habit of consuming them as a matter of course back home.  As always, we love talking to someone who is both passionate and knowledgeable about wine so we thought the tasting experience was something we would recommend to others.

Finally, Antonio produced a bottle of orange wine which only one couple had pre-booked. The joi de vivre of the moment overcame everyone else and we were soon discussing the merits, or otherwise of this offering. In rudimentary terms, it is a red wine with Seville orange peel added late in the process. One sniff and you were in no doubt as to what you were drinking. I thought it would be a refreshing afternoon aperitif, even with ice. Jayne was not convinced.

Orange by name ...

The 90 minute tasting stretched well beyond the allotted 5:50pm finish time as alcohol loosened lips and questions were asked of Antonio. It was after 7pm when we walked out into the softened evening light. The crowds had not diminished, particularly around the Cathedral area. We wended our way back to the hotel, content that the sherry and snacks would be sufficient to carry us through to the morning.

The street lights were on before we made it home.

Until next tomorrow. Spain's National Day.