THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, March 10, 1996 TAG: 9603130704
SECTION: FLAVOR PAGE: F2 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: THE HUMBLE STEWARD
SOURCE: JIM RAPER
LENGTH: Long : 104 lines
I HAD A college professor, a gracious gentleman but stubborn traditionalist, who invited those of us in his senior seminar section to his home for dinner.
He told us to dress up, like civilized people, which caused us to smile. The year was 1970, halcyon days of hippiedom. We knew this was just another of his little ways of resisting changing times. We were to wash and comb our tangled hair, dust off our best clothes, and act, if only for an evening, as if we had a little class.
My memory of the visit to his home has stuck in my head all these years because I filed it under ``sherry.''
I probably had tasted sherry before that dinner, but not real sherry, not the nutty, dry sherry from Spain. We sat in the prof's parlor and his wife served us the sherry as an aperitif. He came behind her with a tray of imported olives and, if I remember correctly, spiced almonds.
There we were, a scruffy bunch scrubbed for once, holding miniature cut-glass stems of sherry and spitting olive pits into napkins. The flavor of the sherry, especially taken together with the salty finger foods, was wonderful.
I remember thinking: So this is how civilized people start dinner.
Times really were a-changing, however, and one of the casualties of baby boomer ascension was dry Spanish sherry. There were many reasons. The alcohol content of this fortified wine is high, nearly twice as high as the simple, domestic ``chablis'' that was to become the aperitif of choice. Also, bone dry sherry is not for everyone. Its golden tint, slightly oxidized aroma and bracing taste remind some people of spoiled white wine.
Americans who did drink sherry chose the sweet imitations made by producers in New York and California, or the sweet cream sherries that the Spanish made mainly for the U.S. and British markets. Sweet sherries are dark brown and have even more alcohol - up to about 22 percent - than dry sherries. The ordinary sweet stuff is about as welcome at the connoisseur's table as a Kosher Concord. A sweet and syrupy aperitif is a no-no, and at meal's end a ruby port or late harvest riesling is more appealing than a cream sherry.
Sherry seemed to lose what reputation it had as an upscale beverage.
When the ocean liner United States was still in service in the late 1960s, its wine list included 15 sherries, all of them from Spain and most of them dry. Try to find 15 sherries on a wine list today.
A wine distributor recently told me he pushed dry sherries at a recent special dinner but got mostly ``ughs!'' in response.
Nevertheless, there are signs that good, dry sherry may make a comeback in the United States. One national publication suggested recently that dry manzanilla sherry be served with lobster. Another writer extolled the traditional match of dry sherries and appetizers - including almonds and nuts - that might be called tapas at a bar in Madrid.
If sherry does become chic again in the United States, it likely will rise on the strength of its dry and almost dry examples.
Real sherry must be the product of a district in southwestern Spain around the city of Jerez de la Frontera. The word ``sherry'' is the anglicized version of Jerez (pronounced hen-RETH), and the drink is known in France as Xeres (ken-RESS). The official Denominacion de Origen (DO) for sherry is Jerez-Xeres-Sherry.
All sherry starts out as dry white wine. Batches destined to become the styles labeled as fino, manzanilla and, sometimes, amontillado are allowed - or encouraged - to develop a white surface froth called ``flor.'' The yeasty flor gives the wine a distinctive aroma and taste, and protects it from spoilage and oxidation that would normally be caused by exposure to air.
Other batches are protected from air and fortified to a higher degree of alcohol, which prevents flor. These eventually become the darker, heavier style known as oloroso. (Cream sherries, some amontillados and sweet olorosos are dry olorosos that have been sweetened before bottling.)
Tradition dictates for all styles that vintages of the base wines be progressively blended while they are maturing in wooden casks. This year's vintage is mixed into last year's, and so on, in what is called the ``solera'' system. This means that the typical bottle of good sherry may be a blend of many vintages. Producers say the younger wines in the blend ``refresh'' the older ones, and the older ones ``educate'' the younger ones. MEMO: The Humble Steward is a biweekly feature of Sunday Flavor. Send
questions or comments to: The Humble Steward, Sunday Flavor, The
Virginian-Pilot, 150 W. Brambleton Ave., Norfolk, Va. 23510. ILLUSTRATION: Graphic
WHAT TO LOOK FOR IN A SHERRY
Sherry labeling and sherry making are complex. Here are some
tips to simplify your buying:
Although all styles may be dry, the ones labeled for sale in the
United States as amontillados and olorosos are likely to be at least
a little sweet. But if your wine merchant can supply you with a dry
amontillado or oloroso, grab it. The drier ones are sherries at
their nuttiest and most complex. Try them with roasted pork or
chicken.
Finos are the lighest and driest. Manzanillas are finos aged near
the Atlantic, and some say they are flavored by the ocean air. Serve
these styles very cold as aperitifs. Or try them with a seafood
appetizer.
Search out the rare bottle that has ``almacenista'' on the label.
The sherry may be of any style; this word simply tells you the wine
is from a small, reserve batch.
Producers to keep in mind are Emilio Lustau, Domecq and Gonzales
Byass. Decent sherries start at about $8 for a .750-liter bottle;
most better ones can be had for less than $30.
by CNB