A gateway into Jerez?

When Consejo Regulador at the end of January reported on the third consecutive year of declining sales for sherry, with a drop of 6.4% in 2024 alone, it stung, but it didn’t surprise me. Sherry sales have been plummeting for the last 45 years. Nowadays, when overall wine consumption is rapidly falling and no-/low-alcohol wines are carving their way into drinking habits, fortified wines are especially at a crossroads. This is similarly true for other major regions, with both Port and Madeira down by over 20% since the early 2000s. Even though Jerez has famously experienced cyclic ups and downs, a sudden flip of fortune isn’t in the cards anytime soon.

Sherry has fascinated me for years now, and I rather frequently have wines from the region in my glass. Many have left a lasting impression. Sometimes though it’s not a single wine that’s memorable, but a wider context. Tasting these three recently side by side was revelatory.

Muchada–Léclapart Lumière 2021 was a 12.5% spontaneously fermented, low-intervention Palomino wine from old vines of La Platera in Miraflores, with barely any SO2 added and no flor influence whatsoever. The dazzling purity, oceanic salinity, and a touch of oak, with a textured mouthfeel and endless layers of flavor, awestruck me.

M. Ant. De la Riva Cambre Balbaina Baja 2021 bore more semblance to the sherry that we all know. Twelve months spent under the veil of flor imbued the wine with familiar almond and sourdough notes. Yet, with shorter aging, it had only 11% alcohol and racy acidity, making it way lighter than any Fino or Manzanilla you could imagine.

Luis Pérez Viña El Corregidor de Carrascal 2020 was something I, until recently, had no idea even existed or was possible. Made from Palomino Fino grown on Barajuela soils, fermented in steel tanks, aged under the veil of flor for a year, and turned into a traditional method sparkling wine with 36 months on the lees. Perfectly dry, saline, incredibly refreshing, and spellbinding with an electrifying dance between the influences of autolysis and flor.

They were all fantastic wines, without a doubt. None was a sherry in a strict sense of the word. All had lower alcohol levels than the typical minimum of 15%, and all were vintage wines. But they also share another thing in common: they present a fantastic gateway into the world of sherry. Even if they can’t be labelled as such, they undeniably live and breathe Jerez.

A friend of mine, now hooked on sherry, told me once that he never could understand its allure. Not until he eased himself into the variety of styles through many lighter Finos and Manzanillas, stepping stones that were easy enough to appreciate yet unique enough to spark interest. He now swears by Jerez as his most cherished wine region. While this is purely anecdotal, the taste profile of sherry wines for the uninitiated can be too unfamiliar, too unorthodox, too difficult to grasp without giving it a proper go. Wines like the ones I was struck by, which have yet to receive an official name and are most often referred to as vinos de pasto, can help bridge this gap. Bring attention to the region as a whole for consumers unfamiliar with sherry, and in effect, lead them towards other styles of wines as well.

The young generation of winemakers in Jerez is embracing dry table wines, naturally complementing the landscape of classical styles of sherry. Like in other regions — Madeira, Jura, or Tokaj, to name a few — that’s a way to diversify and stay profitable. At the same time, it’s their way to express the sense of place and their own, individual character — things that are pretty difficult in sherry, which is commonly far more influenced by winemaking and aging than the origin and vintage. This desire is a driving force behind Territorio Albariza, a group of nine producers set on putting vinos de pasto in the spotlight.

The sheer diversity of these wines is astounding. From Forlong’s Amigo Imaginario, a skin-contact, oaky Palomino in an orange wine style, to vintage Williams & Humbert’s dry Pedro Ximénez En Rama made without sun-drying the grapes. From Ramiro Ibáñez blending Uva Rey and Perruno in Agostado to Luis  Pérez mixing three different vintages and statically aging them under flor into a Fino-styled wine, his Palma Caberrubia Carrascal. These wines perfectly cater to a variety of consumer tastes and provide a gateway into Jerez, and they start making waves. M. Ant. de La Riva San Cayetano 2022 is the first wine from Jerez to be sold via the prestigious La Place de Bordeaux. As Ruben Luyten from SherryNotes.com writes, “Suddenly de La Riva bottles were listed at prestigious retailers around the world.” Big brands are not missing the heartbeat either, with Barbadillo, Williams & Humbert, Hidalgo, and Valdespino already having vinos de pasto in their lineups.

Exciting new wines are also emerging within the legal boundaries of D.O. Jerez–Xérès–Sherry and D.O. Manzanilla-Sanlúcar de Barrameda, offering more variety than ever before. Luis Pérez’s vintage Fino Villamarta El Corregidor bordering Amontillado in style is one of many examples of new wave of sherries where the pago itself is too vague of an origin — individual plots like El Corregidor or El Majuelo take the lead on the labels of wines evoking a sense of place in a way for long unseen in Jerez. Large houses, too, are picking up on this renewed attention to vineyards and origin. Barbadillo is spearheading the organic viticulture movement with releases such as Manzanilla En Rama Salicornia from two organically farmed single vineyards and a young, freshly established solera. Their Poniente/Levante pair of Manzanillas, which showcases the difference in where the casks have been stored within their La Arboledilla bodega, is another spin on showing individual character and authenticity. The recent change in regulations allowing wines to reach the required levels of alcohol without fortification will soon see an influx of unfortified sherries, previously sold as vinos de pasto only due to legal necessity. More classically, reaching for exceptional casks and wines with the backstory, the La Bota series of Equipo Navazos has for some time been sought after by sherry aficionados. And on the far end of the spectrum, VOS/VORS categories are seeing bottlings with quality higher than ever before.

When getting off a beaten path is pitted against so-called tradition, I wonder: What is tradition anyway that we try to cling to? Is it the use of fortification? Clearly not. Fortification in Jerez, from the perspective of centuries, is a novelty and one that’s no longer required with the updated regulations while at it. The change is paving the way for wines such as Luis Pérez’s unfortified, terroir-driven La Barajuela range to be labeled as D.O. Jerez–Xérès–Sherry as they truly deserve. Is it the use of Palomino Fino as the primary variety? Palomino is a recent addition, and not to mention the high-yielding clones, which have a sole reason for existence that is really at odds with the quality traditions of Jerez. The varietal landscape of the region has always been wider than now meets the eye, and initiatives such as the Manifiesto 119 group of bodegueros aim to revive the forgotten ones and bring them back into the spotlight. Is it maybe the dynamic aging in the solera system, then? Even less so. Añadas, vintage sherries, are an important part of the lineup for many houses even today. What we refer to as tradition is often just a narrow snapshot of the region's broader heritage, one that can easily accommodate wines made differently than they were in some past decades. 

Both the diversity and quality seem to have never been better than today. With what seems to be a clear direction, there is a mounting need for a parallel, invigorating push from the rather conservative and traditionalist industry bodies to seize the momentum and empower adventurous producers.

Vinos de pasto are no longer a peripheral fluke. They play on the main stage and have huge potential to revive interest in Jerez as a whole, attracting new consumers to all styles produced. Could focusing the region’s future strategy around both sherry in the traditional sense and the new wave of dry wines modernize the image of Jerez?

It’s undisputed that Finos and Manzanillas are best consumed fresh. Even though you can keep a bottle open for a longer while, it does lose its nerve with time rather quickly. Could embracing bag-in-box packaging help on-trade establishments offer fresh, crisp sherry by the glass and make it easier for them to keep it on the menu?

With relatively high alcohol content, it’s more difficult with sherry than with other still wines to finish a bottle in a single sitting, making it a challenging purchase for the money-conscious and the health-savvy. Could small-format cans help attract younger consumers, aligning with the trend of drinking in moderation and promoting environmental responsibility?

Wines from Jerez seldom appear on wine lists beyond the 'Fortified wines' section, typically found at the back, noticed only by familiars and adventurers. Could showcasing vinos de pasto as peers to other fashionable wines help bring much-needed attention to the whole region, spark conversations, and build a gateway to other styles?

While sherry is often hailed as the best food companion, pairing perfectly with endless cuisines, menus exclusively featuring sherry pairings are few and far between. Could coordinated partnerships with chefs and sommeliers to organise sherry-only dinners on a wider scale, not unlike the one presented by the Consejo in Quo Vadis in London’s Soho that took place in 2024, help change that?

I’ll leave all these questions in the open, though you can perhaps instinctively guess my thoughts already. If you ask me whether any of these would risk diluting the essence of Jerez, it’s a resounding no. Firstly, because it’s simply untrue. The heritage of Jerez is something that progress can only strengthen, not erode. Secondly, because Jerez sustained vastly bigger shake-ups in its lifetime and Jerezanos have always been able to have an upper hand in the end. And finally, because eschewing progress most certainly won’t turn the tide. 

Here's the real question: do we all want to enjoy sherry for years to come, or would we rather proudly go down with the sinking ship, guarding the misguided sense of tradition? I already know my answer.

This piece was originally submitted to a writing competition organized by Bodegas Lustau.