Williams and Humbert


Jerez, like Porto, was almost a de facto British colony, which is why many Sherry lodges and Port lodges have English names.

And what would be more typical English than a name like Williams and Humbert?

There's a common misconception that all sherries mature under flor, the local yeast that grows on the surface of the wines as they mature in casks. That is not how Oloroso comes into being, where the flor is killed by the winemakers. It's a richer style of sherry, as it lacks the edgy angularity and pungent kick of the style matured under flor, such as Fino and Amontillado. Although when I was busy exploring the world of sherry fifteen years ago, I'd noticed echoes of iodine and brine, as though the flor had permeated the very air in the bodega.

Williams and Humbert, Dry Sack, Oloroso, Solera Especial Aged 15 Years

While I do prefer the angular, pungent style, I appreciate the richness of a good Oloroso and, man, I'd drunk some lovely sweet sherries back in the day. Alas, back in the day, this wasn't one of the good Olorosos, according to my tasting notes. 

I don't think Williams and Humbert was ever an inspirational brand. While I'm partial to old time labels, their bottles and labels evoke the image of "the sherry your granny drank". I never ranked them very high. Their big trump card in Israel was simply that they showed up. For many years, they were one of the very few sherries imported here. Their Pedro Ximinez was a crowd pleaser - the world's sweetest wine is sure to find a niche with habitual drinkers - but other wines ranged from faulty to fine but not exciting.

This bottle makes up for that historical debt.

For me, quality in sherry was always about a balance between savory, tangy, pungent, sweet and salty - truly, the only wine you can find at the crossroads of these families of flavors - and this is a very good example of that, with both balance and intensity and a lovely bouquet of roasted nuts, iodine, lemon tea, orange marmalade. The palate kicks around the same flavors and scratches while it caresses - that's what separates it from the Williams and Humbert wines I remembered from the past, the way the sweetness barely masks a scrapper. 

Williams and Humbert, Dos Cortados, Palo Cortado, Solera Especial Aged 20 Years

Google it if you don't believe me: no one really knows what Palo Cortado is, except that it's very fine and rare. A halfway understandable explanation is sometimes the flor just doesn't settle right and you either get vinegar or something combining the pungency of Amontillado and the richness of Oloroso. In short, Palo Cortado happens. 

When Palo Cortado is as dry as this one is, the savory, dry marrow it conjures could melt a block of cured jamon. This is like the Platonic ideal of a pecan pie was distilled until every drop of sweetness evaporated and left its death shroud behind. It has the acidity of lemon juice and the tannic squeeze of black tea - and it's a white wine that spent 20 years in barrels. I love it, but it's a path most wine drinkers today would shun.

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