Song of Sack

Jerez is en fête. The sherry capital of the world—in southern Spain, south of Sevilla—is celebrating the Vendimia, the annual grape harvest that will make more of the wine which was famous before Falstaff praised it.

This is a town of dignified white houses and iron-work balconies; in the bodegas—the monastic long, low, windowless white buildings in which the sherries age—parties fill the night, beginning with ice-cold, bone-dry, straw-colored fino sherry drunk from small tulip-shaped glasses; going on to dinner well after 11 at night; and ending with marvelous exhibitions of flamenco dancing and guitar. The streets are crowded with the people of the region (farmers, vineyard workers, workers from the new factories outside the town), and the part of the park reserved for the fair is jammed with booths of every kind, food and drink prevailing.

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Nika Hazelton

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Jerez is en fête. The sherry capital of the world—in southern Spain, south of Sevilla—is celebrating the Vendimia, the annual grape harvest that will make more of the wine which was famous before Falstaff praised it.

This is a town of dignified white houses and iron-work balconies; in the bodegas—the monastic long, low, windowless white buildings in which the sherries age—parties fill the night, beginning with ice-cold, bone-dry, straw-colored fino sherry drunk from small tulip-shaped glasses; going on to dinner well after 11 at night; and ending with marvelous exhibitions of flamenco dancing and guitar. The streets are crowded with the people of the region (farmers, vineyard workers, workers from the new factories outside the town), and the part of the park reserved for the fair is jammed with booths of every kind, food and drink prevailing.