Sherry, sherry bay-yay-bee

Written by Tod Stewart | 19 May 2009

If Spain’s culinary history has taught us anything it’s that it is entirely possible to be famous, popular and very much misunderstood (yes, Angelina, there are others like you). You may be a household name. You may be the hottest thing in the country. But that doesn’t mean you won’t be stereotyped, pigeonholed and/or just plain bastardized. So it goes with Spain’s most famous wine, sherry, and its most fashionable food (at least in North America), tapas.

Even the driest abstainers have at least heard of sherry, and probably know that it’s a type of wine (or at least a type of devil drink). But outside the realm of the fairly well-tuned wino (or the Spanish, and maybe the Brits), sherry is a bit of a mystery. For most, it’s a sweet brownish drink that grannies drink/drank/drunk out of a dusty old decanter that has sat on the mantle since the dawn of time. Or it’s a substance of dubious composition typically consumed from a paper bag by those types who tend to line up at liquor stores every morning (a.k.a. the “breakfast club”). Nothing could be further from the truth. Okay, the statement “the economy has been doing just fine” or “things are hunky in the Middle East” might be further from the truth.

As for tapas, well, these “little dishes” have become very popular on these shores. However, much like all Champagne is sparkling wine but not all sparkling wine is Champagne, all tapas are “little dishes” but not all little dishes are tapas. A “slider” may be a little dish … but it ain’t a tapa.

Researching food and wine invariably leaves one hungry and thirsty. Since devouring words is no substitute for devouring food, I decided to get into the whole tapas groove via some “field research.” Toronto’s Cambalache seemed to be the place to do some serious studying (I doubted it billed itself as a restaurant de tapas for nothing).

Spanish by birth, proprietor Alejandro Calleja opened Cambalache a little over two years ago to introduce “authentic” tapas to the city. But the city already had tapas joints. Were these somehow inauthentic? I asked him how the other tapas restaurants were missing the boat and got an answer I pretty much expected. “What are they missing? They are missing the Spanish part. They are taking the idea of tapas — meaning small dishes, all different and meant to be shared. But tapas is a word coming from Spain. So then you’ll find Cuban tapas, Mexican tapas, South American tapas. Again, just the idea of tapas. Other than the language, there’s nothing really Spanish about these other places.” Mexican food, a few of Calleja’s patrons have been shocked to discover, isn’t Spanish food and a Spanish tortilla has nothing whatsoever to do with the similarly-labelled Mexican staple. You’re about as likely to find an “authentic” Mexican tapa as you are Spanish tequila. I recently saw a tapas menu listing ceviche. Don’t think so.

While there are many stories of how tapas came to be (most involve some variation on putting a piece of bread or ham over the top of a glass of wine — a “tapa” is a cover — to keep out dust, flies, beer, the infidel, etc.), there is little argument as to where they came to be. And that place be Spain (most likely Andalusia, though arguments, of course, exist).

As dinner in Spain is typically served around 10 pm, a wee nibble or three is generally in order between then and lunch. The difference between Spain and here, as far as tapas are concerned, is that in Spain, the tapas lifestyle involves as much exercise as eating — “tapeadors” typically have a glass or two and a few noshes at one bar before moving on to the next. Considering the dearth of tapas bars in most North American cities, you typically stay put in whichever one you happen to chance upon.

So why aren’t there more authentic tapas bars in these parts so we, too, can get in our cardio as well as our calories? Well, for one, the whole concept of offering a menu with 40 or 50 (or more) selections poses challenges that many a restaurateur would rather not face.

“Forty seatings in a normal restaurant means you might have 40 main courses. With 40 people in a tapas restaurant you might have 150 dishes coming out of the kitchen. We have a menu of over 50 tapas, which is, yes, a challenge,” Calleja admits. Also, there are but a few purveyors of Spanish foodstuffs in Ontario (Montreal, he says, has a better selection).