Madrid, Spain
The unforgiving Madrid sun beats down on the pavement, the mercury stubbornly refusing to dip below 100°F even as the clock ticks past 8:15 PM.
I’ve just stumbled out of my air-conditioned sanctuary, sweat already beading on my brow, with only one coherent thought pulsing through my heat-addled brain: I need a drink.
But not just any drink. In this inferno, a tepid beer or room-temperature wine isn’t going to cut it. No, what I need is the lifeblood of the Mediterranean, the elixir that courses through the veins of every true Spaniard: vermouth.
I duck into the nearest bar, a place that’s seen more stories unfold within its walls than there are cobblestones in the winding streets of the old town. “Un vermouth, por favor,” I manage to croak out, my parched throat desperate for any liquid salvation.
Not sure if you guys have already tried the La Fuerza vermouth from our summer collection, but since we introduced it, it has become my go-to summer drink. And now here in Spain I’m eager to explore all the different kinds the country has to offer.
Vermouth is one of those drinks that many winemakers make for themselves each year, the little bit of extra grape juice from each harvest turned into a playground for experimentation. It’s the little side project that any winemaker needs for an extra burst of creativity. You do it with what you have around, which is why there’s no exact recipe for it, just common variations depending on the country or region. And that’s what makes it always fun, always an adventure.
Vermouth, for the uninitiated, is more than just the secret ingredient in James Bond’s favorite cocktail. Aside from being the whisper that turns a glass of gin into a Martini, it’s a fortified wine in its own right, infused with a secret blend of herbs and spices that would make Colonel Sanders weep with envy. Born in Turin, Italy, in the 18th century, vermouth found its spiritual home here in Spain, where it’s elevated to an art form, as essential to the culture here as its cousin campari is in Italy.
As the first sip of ice-cold vermouth hits my palate, I’m transported. The bittersweet symphony of flavors – hints of wormwood, citrus peel, and God knows what else – dances across my tongue. It’s like a bullfighter’s cape, gracefully enticing you with sweetness, only to bring out a bitter note, then sour, then sweet again….
Speaking of bullfighters, I can’t help but draw parallels between this ancient drink and the equally ancient tradition of la corrida. Both are deeply ingrained in Spanish culture, both are steeped in ritual and pageantry, both are beautiful, and a little savage, and both offer a unique window into the soul of Spain. Vermouth, though, is far more accessible – a delightful introduction to the rich tapestry of Spanish flavors that anyone can enjoy.
But that dance between sweetness and bitterness is kind of the beauty of Madrid, isn’t it? Or at least for me, my Spanish genes simply kick in when I step foot in this country. It simply exists, unapologetically itself, inviting you to dive in headfirst and figure it out as you go along.
As if to prove this point, the bartender sends me a plate to my small standing table – my complimentary tapa. Tonight’s offering: a miniature portion of paella.
Now, paella might not be the first thing you’d crave in this heat, but who am I to argue with tradition? Besides, there’s something poetic about this unexpected pairing.
As I savor my vermouth and pick at the paella, I can’t help but reflect on the other culinary treasures this country has, the olive oil, the jamon, and the seasonal fruits, tomatoes, oranges, and the list goes on. These aren’t just ingredients; they’re the building blocks of a culture that values quality, tradition, and the simple pleasure of good food and drink shared with friends. We always try to have some Spanish cavas in stock (they tend to sell out quickly) because they are high quality, but don’t have the price tag of a champagne. Much like the vermouth in my glass, they’re a distillation of centuries of curiosity and passion.
The sun may still be blazing outside, but here in this dimly lit bar, with the cool kiss of vermouth on my lips and the distant strains of flamenco guitar drifting through the open door, I’m reminded why I keep coming back to Madrid. It’s a city that doesn’t exactly welcome you; it seduces you, one sip, one bite, one stolen moment at a time.
And if you find yourself battling high temperatures wherever you are, take a cue from the Madrileños – consider vermouth as a refreshing escape. It’s the perfect antidote to a scorching day, offering a complex yet approachable flavor that cools and satisfies in equal measure.
So here’s to Madrid, to vermouth, and to the beautiful madness of embracing life in all its messy, delicious glory.
Salud!
Diego
