Originally published in Distilled, Issue 5
Words by Johanna Ngoh
Photography by Carlos Spottorno
Days in Jerez are hot, hazy and monotonous, the hours drawn out by aimless meanderings along cobblestone lanes, and the occasional patch of shade that tempts despite its futile respite from the brooding heat. The Andalusian sun requires nothing if not patience, one quickly surmises. It’s an apt metaphor for the incubation of Scotch whisky.
Yet somehow its Old Town charms, both elegant and shabby in equal measures, its white-washed facades adorned with scarlet flowers and decorative tiles. Neglected corners give way to handsome plazas and medieval churches, its courtyards the site of wedding processions and impossibly glamorous women filing into its pews, their gilded wrists undulating under the lace and pearl of abanicos, elaborately embellished hand fans that are a required accessory in these parts of Spain. Moors, Visigoths, Romans: interspersed throughout these vignettes are an assortment of relics left behind by Jerez’s many conquerors, undoubtedly lured by its strategic location on the Iberian Peninsula, just twelve kilometres from the Atlantic Ocean.
Being thoroughly devoid of any breeze, nights in Jerez feel equally long, its many alleys heaving under the weight of flamenco and richly flavoured plates of seafood and pork, lavishly sauced and salted. Both are best enjoyed with cold glasses of sherry, an eponym derived from the anglicisation of Jerez proper, and the wine that has become the region’s most famous export. Flowing by the glass in its many tabancas, and resting by the butt in its dusky bodegas, the latter a precious commodity long sought after by Scotch whisky distillers.
NOT UNLIKE THE AULD ALLIANCE between Scotland and France, Scotch whisky and sherry share a lesser known but equally symbiotic relationship that has evolved over centuries, most easily traced back to the popular tale of how Sir Francis Drake routed the Spanish Armada in 1587 by ‘sacking’ their naval shipyards in the nearby port of Cádiz, and in the process plundered three thousand casks of sherry stored at the docks. The wine, so the story goes, soon found its way back to the British Court where it became all the rage to drink the pillaged sherry as a celebration of England’s victory in ‘singeing the King of Spain’s beard’.
It’s an oversimplification of history, but one that draws the straightest line between Britain and Jerez, a centre of viniculture since the Phoenicians planted vineyards in 1100 BC, making sherry one of the world’s oldest wines, and one that has been influenced over the centuries by many of the world’s great civilisations.
By the late 1800s wines from Jerez were in high demand, having now evolved in style through a system of oak casks stacked in a series of linear formations known as a solera. As the wines are made, they are ‘fortified’ by the addition of alcohol, then filled into casks grouped by the same age. When wine from the oldest cask in a solera is drained to be bottled (no more than a third at a time), it is topped up with wine from a younger cask such that the casks are never emptied, and the wine becomes a composite of different ages, a system known as ‘fractional blending’ that may not have originated in Jerez, but has certainly been made famous here.
Sherry’s popularity in Britain saw a number of English merchants establish cellars in the region, many of whom are still in operation today, with names such as Osborne, Williams & Humbert, and Sandeman. It was not long before the taste for sherry begat a taste for sherried whisky: a steady stream of casks were now making their way to England, where they were disgorged immediately, or sat in shops and bars where customers could drink sherry on premise or fill into their own containers.
Recycling of these casks became a burgeoning industry, centred on Bristol, the hub of England’s sherry trade, and quickly became an integral part of the whisky industry. Records of the era consistently refer to the maturation of whisky in ‘plain wood’ versus ‘sherry wood’, the latter generally credited with the making of a more mellow, palatable whisky. But it was also widely acknowledged that there simply weren’t enough sherry casks to go round:
“Can you get sufficient sherry casks for all the native whisky made? —No, but I say that a great number of sherry casks are used for the best whisky.”
— Minutes from Select Committee on British and Foreign Spirits, July 15, 1890
It reflected a well-entrenched mindset at the time that connected the quality of whisky to age and sherry wood. These used casks became the nexus of a new symbiosis between Scotch and sherry, but like all co-dependencies it became a bond fraught with dysfunction as some distillers and their brokers went sherry-mad.
The wine itself was soon being used outright to ‘correct the acrid and fiery properties’ of whisky, as per the Wine Trade Review, a business journal that advertised the sale of sherry and other fortified wines for blending with whisky, ‘three to five gallons brown wine to a butt; the actual quantity to be employed must be determined by the taste and judgment of the merchant making the blend’. It was evidence presented in 1879 to the British House of Commons as to how the blending of sherry and whisky had become rife to the point of misleading of consumers:
This now goes on to a very large extent in the matter of whisky, so much so, that a French friend was telling me only last evening, when he asked for a glass of whisky, or a glass of sherry, the one resembled the other so much that he was hardly able to tell which was which.
It has been found that whisky stored in sherry casks was better than that stored in plain casks, and from this to the mixing on a large scale, particularly when it is desired to pass off as whisky young and raw ‘silent’ spirit, was but one easy step. And this has now grown to such a perfect system that sherries are especially advertised for the purpose of blending with whisky […] to impart them softness and mellowness.
– Report from the Select Committee on Wine Duties, British House of Commons, 1879
The practice was finally curtailed with the Final Report of the Royal Commission on Whiskey and Other Potable Spirits (more commonly known as the ‘What is Whisky?’ case) which strictly outlined the production process of Scotch whisky. The conclusion? Scotch whisky’s obsession with sherry had gone too far, and the blending of whisky with wine and other additives was banned altogether.
In retrospect it would seem that distillers had lost the plot, based on a misguided premise that continues to this day. While sherry wood can impart beauty to a whisky, it’s very much about striking a balance and tension, not dissimilar to a flamenco dancer, guided by a rhythm, moving in concert to the tempo, always keeping pace. Like the dancer and her music, a sherried whisky is about the relationship between malt and wood, the aura of the wine clinging to the whisky like a satin dress. Allow it to subsume the spirit and a sherried whisky can easily lose its balance, to the point of being shrill.
MOVING FORWARD Scotland’s thirst for sherry wood continued into the twentieth century, but by the 1960s the writing was on the wall: bodegas were now shipping most of their wine by bottle or by tanker, and its overall consumption in Britain declined as the middlemen were gradually cut out.
Come 1986 Spanish legislation mandated that all sherry must be bottled in Jerez by which time distillers had been implementing various workarounds, the most notorious being paxarete, a syrup derived of sweet Pedro Ximénez sherry, steam injected into new casks to mimic the desired effect. (Paxarete was ruled an illegal additive by the Scotch Whisky Association in the eighties and its use was subsequently banned.)
Given that casks were no longer being built to transport sherry to Britain, distillers now went directly to the bodegas to commission their own casks, to be filled with sherry to ‘season’ the oak before being shipped to Scotland. Demand in Jerez for these tailor-made sherry casks grew steadily, so much so that it is now a lucrative, secondary industry that bolsters the waning market for Jerez as a wine. Local cooperages – tonelerias – partner with bodegas who supply them with sherry that sits in their casks for anywhere from six months to five years, after which time it is distilled into Brandy de Jerez or sherry vinegar.
Of these coopers the most famous is Tevasa, whose biggest client is known for once making ‘the most richly sherried of all malt whiskies’. With seventy-four employees Tevasa is Europe’s largest cooperage, and also one of the few with access to a steady supply of Quercus robur, European oak, harvested in the forests of Galicia and Cantabria in Northern Spain.
The distinction is not a small one: European oak has become a prized commodity among coopers and distillers, its harvest strictly regulated by local governments given its slow growth. While American oak is felled between forty and fifty years, Spanish oak is harvested at a hundred years. It was also the oak used to build the original transport casks that ferried sherry to England, while American oak has traditionally been favoured for ageing sherry in a solera given its tighter grain which discourages leaking.
Tevasa maintains an inventory of 30,000 casks made of lumber that has been quartered and dried as staves for nine months on-site in Galicia, before being shipped to Jerez to be air dried for a further two years. For the most part these are fashioned into butts with a capacity of 500 litres, and 250-litre hogsheads. Whereas young sherry is used to season most bespoke casks (by law sherry must be aged for a minimum of two years) at Tevasa the majority of casks are filled with four to five year old sherry. The wine is left to season the oak for anywhere from an average of eighteen months, and up to thirty-six months for Suntory, their most exacting client. In keeping with the tradition of transport casks that originally found their way to Scotland, most casks are filled with Oloroso, a velvety brown style of sherry that tastes of raisins and dried fruit, though Fino, Manzanilla and Pedro Ximénez sherries are also used.
It’s a new reality in wood management that is a far cry from the popular misconception of whisky aged in casks that originated in the romantic shade of bodegas. Given that sherry wine was long held in such high esteem, one can hardly blame distillers for perpetuating this image. The fact is that sherry casks used to mature whisky historically were never the same casks used by winemakers in Jerez. The former, being made of American oak and well soaked with decades worth of sherry, are in fact highly prized by their bodegas, many of which have been in situ for more than a hundred years.
It can also be argued to what extent the sherry itself has played in maturing a whisky, as opposed to the genus of the oak and its extractive properties. While the difference between a cask built in America versus Europe may at first glance seem inconsequential, distillers have long known that its effect on a whisky is monumental, irrespective of the wine it has held. European oak, rich in tannins, has long been credited with imbuing spicy, resinous notes of clove and nutmeg to a whisky as it matures, whereas whisky aged in American oak is widely acknowledged to take on characters of citrus fruits, berries, vanilla ice cream, with less spice and a sharper, more brittle texture.
A side-by-side comparison of two Macallans, respectively matured for thirty years in both Spanish and American oak casks that were previously used to transport mature Oloroso sherry, is a revelation and illustrates the point neatly, the former having taken on an almost molasses hue, and proffering the typical Macallan profile of clove, heavy wood spices, and the intense sweetness of black liquorice with a dry, nutty finish. By contrast thirty years in an American oak cask – also distilled in 1974 – reveals a complex whisky laden with field berries and cream, and just the lightest dusting of chai spice. To be able to taste both at once is an opportunity to appreciate firsthand the long held industry axiom that ‘the wood is king’, and the thought of declaring abetter whisky would be as tortuous as picking out a favourite child.
THIS NEW BREED OF SHERRY CASK would seem to be a win-win for both whisky and sherry, so much so that bodegas outside the officially recognised denomination of Jerez, Sanlúcar de Barrameda and El Puerto de Santa María (aka the ‘Sherry Triangle’) are now supplying distillers with casks, despite the fact that their wines (as excellent as they may be) cannot legally be called sherry. It has become a point of contention that has seen the sherry’s regulating council – el Consejo Regulador – move to legally protect the term ‘sherry cask’, as well as certifying those bodegas which can legally use the mark.
But the term ‘sherry’ or ‘sherry cask’ loses its meaning once a whisky reaches the blender’s vat. Sherry wood has become so integral to the overall flavour profile of whisky, that many of these casks are now home grown. In what is perhaps one of Scotch whisky’s best kept secrets, a significant portion of sherry casks have their provenance in Scotland’s central belt, in what is cheekily referred to as the Scottish bodega. It is here that Diageo, the world’s largest distiller, maintains the Cambus Cooperage to service the casks for its twenty-nine distilleries, while next door is a separate facility where, for the past thirty years, casks purchased in Spain, France and America have been filled with wine imported from Montilla-Moriles. Being just outside of the Sherry Triangle makes the wine sherry in style, but not in name, though the difference is moot for the intended purpose. The majority of casks here are seasoned with Oloroso for three months, while casks filled with Fino and Pedro Ximenez (PX) are disgorged after just one month.
It is clear that while distillers may long for the economy of cheap, disused casks sitting in the port of Bristol, the illusion of the good old days is long gone. “Why pay top dollar for dodgy casks that may have had sherry filled and poured out after a day?” Both blenders and distillers agree that taking control of the manufacture and seasoning of sherry casks has resulted in a more consistent standard, and a higher quality of warehouse management. Many long-time coopers would also concur, having seen their fair share of sulphured, subpar butts disassembled into staves for shipping, only to be mixed and matched at their final destination with defective, leaking staves.
IT IS A SYMPTOM OF THE HUMAN CONDITION to wallow in nostalgia and yearn for a past or place that doesn’t exist. It is similarly tempting for the whisky purist to dismiss this new era of engineered sherry casks as lacking the authenticity of the now-defunct transport casks that once sailed their way to British soil. But to taste a well-made whisky that has been matured in these modern vessels puts paid to the notion that all progress is bad. A case in point is the Lagavulin 2011 Jazz Edition, fully matured for eighteen years in the Scottish bodega and a testament that quality control need not necessarily be a bad thing, and can indeed result in a stunningly beautiful whisky.
That said, while transport sherry casks are a thing of the past, the occasional bodega cask still finds its way to Scotland. In recent years Arran, Glengoyne and Tomatin have all managed to secure old casks from the highly regarded (and highly recommended) Bodegas Tradición. And Glen Moray has bottled an absolutely stellar twenty-one year old single malt whisky matured for six years in a solera cask purchased from a bankrupt bodega. While these are exceptions and not the norm, these ‘finished’ whiskies have been well rewarded by these unions and lend credence to the axiom that one person’s trash is another person’s treasure.
The latter also represents both the reality and irony of this most curious and symbiotic relationship. Though sherry is quietly becoming fashionable again in small quarters, the industry is a pale shadow of its former self and its market share continues to decline, shuttering bodegas. Meanwhile the demand for sherry wood continues unabated as it plays an integral role in the ever growing global market for single malt whisky.
Styles of sherry commonly used to season whisky casks
Fino
Bottled between four and seven years of age, Fino is a dry, pale white sherry best drunk cold. It is commonly enjoyed as an aperitif, its delicate, herbal character pairing well with olives, fried fish, nuts and cured ham.
Oloroso
The most popular style of sherry used for seasoning whisky casks, Oloroso is a heavier wine with a fuller body that has been fortified with alcohol to 17% abv. The result is a particularly fragrant sherry that has become known for its dried fruits, leather, polished wood and exotic spices.
Pedro Ximenez
The darkest and most concentrated style of sherry, Pedro Ximénez is a naturally sweet wine made from over-ripe grapes left in the sun to further concentrate their sugars. It is most often served as a dessert wine, sticky sweet at younger ages, and best enjoyed to close of a meal.