Surely with Sherry

Forget about your grandmother’s tipple. True Spanish Sherries are serious wines . . . Or so we discovered a few years ago on an unsuspecting tour of Andalusia.

We landed in Madrid, really on our way to Corsica, France. A cheap Internet fare lured us to crisscross through Spain on our way to the Mediterranean isle, and we settled on spending a few days in transit. Having no reservations for anything anywhere on the Iberian Peninsula, we rented a car and headed unsuspectingly south through the blazing sun, the moonscapes, and the olive groves until after a few hours we stopped in Cordoba, ancient city of learning and culture.

It soon became obvious that somewhere between Despeñaperros, the mountainous frontier of the Junta of Andalusia, and the last olive tree, we had entered Sherryland (though not yet the snooty stuff they produce in Jerez further south, and which every Brit worth his or her instinctive salt knows to order by name). In Cordoba, the waiter of each bar, cafe, and restaurant we entered took it as an insult if we failed to quaff a Fino or perhaps an Amontillado right off, little matter the time of day. Served very cold and produced very dry, it took no more than a few glasses to really love the stuff.

We learned that Cordoba province has its own Sherry production from the region called Montilla-Morilles, and Sherry here, as in the areas surrounding Cadiz further south, is bred in the bone. You must drink it, using little flute-like glasses, there's simply no choice.

The history of Sherry, like that of Port in Portugal, intertwines in an almost baroque way with British merchant interests and worldwide trade, starting centuries ago. That's why you have traditional Spanish Sherry bodegas with names like "Harvey," "Osborne," and "Garvey" in the middle of Andalusia. "Sherry" itself is an English mongrelization of the word for Jerez, while the Spanish themselves simply order a "fino" or an "olorosso." The English also used to call this high-alcohol wine "sack" and transported it in "butts," but we needn't get too intimate. Let's just say that Shakespeare depicts everyone from swarthy Fallstaff to various kings drinking copious amounts of it.

The production of Cordoba finds its way more into Spanish bocas than foreigners, while Jerez wines travel the globe satisfying the Sherry habits of aficionados worldwide.

Unlike the stuff your aunt used to serve from gaudy cut glass decanters, Spanish sherries have a sophistication, complexity, and culture of consumption worthy of appreciation.

If you don't want to get into the messy vocabulary to follow, then stick with Fino, it sounds nice, is easy to remember, and has enough distinction to go for miles (or kilometers, in our case). The Andalusian bodegas make Fino primarily from palomino grapes grown on extremely chalky soils that occur only in two areas. It can be "dry" (seco) and "very dry" (muy seco), and has a very light to light straw color. The stuff from Jerez, which many consider the best, is generally a bit darker in color than finos from Montilla-Morilles, and those are the only two places it's made. When in Cordoba--an amazing city, home to the Great Mosque--you drink Montilla-Morilles, and when in Seville--home to the Alcazar and La Giralda Cathedral--you imbibe Jerez. In Granada, you drink whatever's available.

Fino, served quite cold, is extremely dry--vanish thoughts about Australian Chardonnay; in fact, remove normal wine parameters from your mind. It has bunches of very subtle flavors and smells, all in the dry format. "Like toasted almonds" is a good phraseology here, though there's much more dwelling inside a glass of Fino. It is, in our opinion, the quintessential aperitif. The Spanish work their butts off (no pun intended) making each bottle, in a production method known as solera involving multiple American oak casks and plenty of special yeasts, called flor, all housed in huge buildings, the bodegas, near to the coast for easy transshipment around the world. The flor grows atop the wine in partially filled large barriques and prevents the wine's total oxidation. Flor adds tremendously to the flavor profile of Finos, as does the solera system of blending wines of different vintages to produce a consistent and wonderful production each year. The oak of the New World adds its own character, and a bit of historical continuity, for Andalusia populated most of Latin America.

Each glass of Fino, in fact, contains the history of Sherry, with parts of the wine and the flor going back decades and perhaps centuries. The best known Fino houses include Gonzalez Byass with their "Tio Pepe" and the various sherries made by Lustau--not bad but try some from Montilla-Morilles too, if you can find them.

What the Heck, Give Me an Oloroso

Moving beyond Fino in Sherryland brings you to the sub-classification of Manzanilla, and then on to Almontillado and Oloroso--wonderfully sonorous names, aren't they? There's also "Cream" Sherry, but forget about it--that's the sweet stuff from your grandma's decanter.

Some Sherry Suggestions

Espresso Machines: The Serious Beginner's Guide

by Charles Leary & Vaughn Perret, Chef-Proprietors of Trout Point Lodge of Nova Scotia

Coffee simply tastes better in Europe. Based on frequent travel and living abroad in Italy, Spain, Turkey, & France as well as Canada and the coffee-producing countries of Panama, and Costa Rica, the only conclusion we can draw is that the western European way with coffee wins out for robust flavor and drinking pleasure.

Why?

Even in France, Spain, and Italy finding the appropriate brand or kind proves difficult, involving day after day of trying new coffees, new grinds, new roasts. Any coffee afficianado will tell you that the water is important: the purer and better tasting the water, the better the coffee. In Costa Rica and Panama, we sample reputedly some of the world's best coffess, locally grown, processed, roasted, and ground. The results vary considerably, and with the best, a subtle, superior complexity of flavor shines through. But the Central American coffees are lightweights when compared with that flavorful, transporting experience of just-made cafe au lait, espresso, or cafe con leche.

In Europe, the espresso machine has won out as the only way to make epicurean-level coffee. Drip machines are tolerated for home use, but precise heat, pressure, and water combined and forced through a densely packed puck of finely ground, freshly ground coffee beans produces the quintessential coffee flavor.

As restaurateurs we have long wanted to reproduce this experience for our guests. In 2001, we had purchased what at the time was one of the best small commercial machines readily available in North America: the Pasquini Livia 90. This compact espresso machine has held up admirably and remains in use in the Dining Room at Trout Point Lodge of Nova Scotia.

However, new plans for a small guest cafe have steered us back into the market for a light commercial or serious home use espresso machine, something that will truly reproduce the European coffee experience we know so well.

To say that the world of small espresso machines in North America has changed in seven years puts it mildly.

Here's a rundown of several of the best choices we came up with after several weeks of research, and based on our eight years of experience with the Pasquini machine:

First, there is a basic tri-partite division of these machines. 1. There are inexpensive home machines that function without boilers or pressure—just direct steam creation. 2. There are single boiler machines that use one boiler to produce steam for both brewing and for steaming milk or providing hot water. 3. There are double boiler machines that have one boiler for brewing at one specific temperature, and a second boiler, usually at a higher temperature, for producing steam and hot water. Further variables can include the voltage (i.e. 110 versus 220), the power of the heating element(s) (i.e. 1500 watts), the size of the boiler(s), and the type of “brewing group,” the place where the steam comes into contact with the ground coffee.

All of the machines we have chosen are commercial quality and carry a fairly hefty price tag.

Our Selections:

The Elektra A3

The Marzocco GS3

The LaSpaziale Vivaldi II

The Vibiemme Domobar

The Elektra Verticale Semi-automatica