#argueso

What do we know about sherry? In the late 1960s Stevie Wonder sang "my sherry amour, pretty little one that I adore", which was weird. Then there's trifle, which is a wobbly amalgamation of puddings laced with the stuff. And finally there's the faint whiff of Croft Original or Harveys Bristol Cream given off by grandparents when leaning in for the obligatory end of visit wrinkly kiss, which is deeply unsettling. And that's about it. As well as never being able to properly decipher song lyrics, I've never been able to understand the depth of Stevie’s passion for the Spanish beverage.

That was until now, because now sherry is à la mode, sherry is sexy, sherry is dancing in the spotlight and clacking its castanets at you in a provocative manner. Well kind of, in truth it's more of a mini renaissance, a quiet revolution. Like German Riesling, the wine industry is in whole-hearted agreement that sherry should be cool but for some reason it isn't. My theory is that although these wines are great, it's often easier to wow with the sparkly and new than it is to change perceptions of the stuffy and old. This is why New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc trumps the Loire in popularity at the moment, and Patagonian Malbec seems far more exciting than Cahors. But sherry has not one, not two, but three secret weapons up its flouncy red Spanish sleeves.

Uno: it's cheap as patatas bravas because there's relatively little demand for it in the UK. As a result it's great value for money and even the cheapest of bottles can have a gloriously long finish and bags of flavour and complexity. Furthermore, useful little half bottles have now started appearing. 

Dos: sherry has strength in variety, it sounds clichéd but there's a sherry for everyone. It can be roughly divided into three basic categories. The first contains the Fino and Manzanilla styles, these are dry wines aged in barrels under a layer of yeast called flor. This magical growth stops the fortified wine from oxidising and keeps it fresh. It also adds a characteristic tangy, yeastiness to the natural citrus, almond and sea spray flavours. The next category contains the Amontillado and Oloroso styles, these are richer and naturally dry, but are often sweetened. They are aged in the same way as Fino and Manzanilla, but the flor either dies or is killed off, leaving the wine exposed to oxidise and develop deeper nuttier spicier flavours and a darker colour. Then there are the dark and voluptuous sweet sherries made from Pedro Ximénez and Moscatel grapes. The grapes are dried to intensify the sweetness, making them syrupy and sticky, basically all your puddings for the week rolled into one handy snifter.

Tres: the final secret weapon is tapas. Well it isn't that secret with wonderful restaurants popping up all over the capital like José, Opera Tavern, Barrica, Salt Yard and Camino. The latter went one step further opening a specialist sherry bar called Pepito. Tapas has more sex appeal than Penelope Cruz and it looks less like a duck. With its tiny plates of anchovies, chorizo, garlic, morcilla, olive oil, pork belly, croquetas, Padrón peppers, hard cheeses and luscious tomatoes, you barely need to choose what you want to eat because you can have it all. And sherry is the perfect wine match to your journey though this culinary promised land called Spain.

I love the Fino and Manzanilla style sherries. One of my favourite brands is Equipo Navazos, a group of sherry aficionados who merrily skip around the region (for my own pleasure I imagine them dressed like matadors, but please do as you will) selecting the top barrels from prestigious producers, then tinker with 'em and bottle 'em. Every new sherry they release seems to contain the joy and experience that these guys have for their product. The I Think Manzanilla En Rama (£11.99 from Theatre of Wine) pictured is barely filtered, so has a punchy lemony note with a rich creaminess well worth seeking out. If you fancy splashing out, then search for Equipo Navazos' La Bota range or for González Byass’ Palmas range (the Una Palmas is truly a golden nectar). For cheaper options Hidalgo are very reliable, particularly La Gitana and Triana, but I found the Pasada reminded me a bit of grubby dogs. Alternatively, the super tasty and bargainous Manzanilla San Leon from Argüeso comes in at only £6.99 for a half bottle, again from Theatre of Wine. Or if you would like to break yourself into sherry gradually, try a sherry-esque wine. Port makers Niepoort and Equipo Navazos have formed a crazy collabo to produce and unusual wine with a not very imaginative name: Niepoort-Navazos. Made from Palomino grapes (the variety used in most sherries), aged under flor to give the yeasty Manzanilla and Fino flavours, but not fortified like sherry, it's in equal measures weird and wonderful.

My advice is to withdraw your savings and head to Pepito or alternatively buy some sherry and some smoked almonds, rent the film Jamon Jamon and sit back and relax while watching a topless man in tight trousers bludgeon another man to death with a ham. Viva España, Steve was right, life doesn't get much better than that.