Andalusian Horses and Afternoon Sherry in Jerez

This being my fourth trip to southern Spain, I’ve seen much of the region—Seville, Córdoba, Granada (still a favorite), and Ronda. This week, though, I added a new stop to the list: Jerez de la Frontera, the birthplace of sherry, just over an hour from Seville by train.

I spent the morning wandering Jerez and visiting the cathedral—more on that in a later post—but it wasn’t sherry that ultimately brought me there. I came to visit the Royal Andalusian School of Equestrian Art, one of the most prestigious classical riding academies in the world. The grounds are immaculately maintained, and a museum highlights the importance of horses in military, cultural, and ceremonial life. Babieca, the horse belonging to El Cid—the famed Castilian knight of medieval Spain—was said to have carried his dead master into battle, terrifying his enemies even after his death.

The main attraction, though, is the weekly performance on offer: Cómo bailan los caballos andaluces (“How the Andalusian Horses Dance”), a ninety-minute spectacle of precision riding. The riders were dressed impeccably in traditional, tailored Andalusian attire. As a devotee of New York City Ballet and the choreography of George Balanchine, I’ve seen ballerinas dance to the “Walpurgisnacht” music from Gounod’s Faust—but watching two horses move to the same music was something entirely new. The way the horses and their riders wove across the wide space, forming a variety of shapes, also reminded me of Paul Taylor’s Esplanade. (My dance-loving friends are about to murder me for this blasphemy.)

After leaving the grounds, I meant to stop briefly for lunch nearby before heading back to the train station and returning to Seville. A wine shop along the way slowed me down. Why not pick up a bottle of sherry for me and Donald—and one for my parents—before lunch? I try not to drink during the day, but La Casa del Jerez generously insisted that I sample four (maybe five?) sherries before making my final purchases.

Lunch at Restaurante Albalá, opened by Michelin-starred chef Israel Ramos, was fantastic. After a few samples of sherry across the street, my Spanish was flowing well. “Are you from here?” the waiter asked as I ordered, flattering me. The red shrimp salad with sherry vinegar and fino foam was one of the best dishes I’ve ever had in Spain.