Going Jeretical
JEREZ, Spain — The story so far: a barkada of four amorous testosterone junkies beat back other pretenders to the throne and win a chance to reclaim their ambiguous Spanish heritage in the Fundador Brotherhood Challenge (a.k.a. Lucky Bastards Going To Spain, or LuBaGS). Waiting to see if their amorousness could transcend cultural boundaries, Team Tomador plied their rich kayumanggi skin in Spanish tapas bars with the hopes of romantic conquest. But all they won over was our bus driver, the voluptuous Esteban.
Along for this ride were the four-man team of Brotherhood Challenge home partners and a shameless saling pusa columnist who hoped to share with the Jerezians great Pinoy cultural exchanges.
As the visit progressed, all these men found themselves in awe of the dapper
While the rest of our tour group was enjoying their life-affirming breakfast of congealing pork fat on pita bread, I was discreetly escorted by the good Don to their secret Inquisition chamber where I was treated to an interactive tour with its Medieval-era stretcher. “This isn’t how the Inquisition chamber looked in History of the World: Part One,” I thought. I turned to Don Beltran who was smiling to himself. “Will being pulled apart by a stretcher make me more of a gentleman?” I giddily asked.
“No, Señor Ledesma,” he said while polishing his fingernails with the panyo from his breast pocket, “This is merely for my personal amusement. (Reader alert: Monty Python reference coming…) Because nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. Now you can rejoin the rest of your group outside.”
As soon as the rest of the LuBaGS were resuscitated after breakfast, Don Beltran elaborated more on the brandy capital of the world. “There are three things that Jerez de la Frontera is world-famous for. And all these three things are objects that true gentlemen will gain a true appreciation for. These are brandy de Jerez, horses and flamenco.” He cleared his throat. “Let us begin with the most important: our brandy.”
Fooling around in the Bodega
“Brandy is not just about life, it is about the life of the
“Fundador brandy is a gifted blending of ingredients borne out of our unique geography in the most southern portion of the Spanish peninsula. We have the white Albariza soil that is high in calcium content, absorbs rainwater and seals in humidity; we have the Palomino white grape known as the ‘most important grape’ on account of its high acidity; we have the combination of rich, cold air blown in from the Atlantic and the hot, dry air from the Sahara; and, lastly, we have the moderately cool climate of the region. So when you are drinking Fundador, you are drinking in the spirit of
Wow, so that means if I drink enough Fundador, I could still become Spanish by association.
“Incidentally, when growing our Palomino grapes, we refrain from using strong chemical ingredients on the pests that could otherwise harm the surroundings. Instead of using insecticides, we like to sexually confuse the insects.” When those words escaped Don Beltran’s mouth, the metrosexuals among the LuBaGS took a few uncomfortable steps back. “We use a capsule that contains a liquid that smells like the pheromones of female insects which attracts the males in droves thinking that there are fertile females around. Unfortunately, when the insects come over to procreate, there are no females around to receive their male bounty. Although the male insects die here, they die happily ensconced by the magnificent aroma of the female scent.”
“Don Beltran?” I interrupted, as I am wont to do. “Can I have some of these capsules? I know some men who have had no girlfriends since birth who will greatly benefit from them.”
“These capsules do not affect humans, Señor Ledesma.” Señor Beltran removed his spectacles and vigorously massaged the bridge of his nose. “In fact, some of the workers were very worried about these capsules and asked about all this sexual confusion business. We had to convince them that this would not affect them or their wives, just the insects.”
“But the grapes!” I ranted (because I rant very well). “What about the grapes, Don Beltran? Don’t they become sexually confused as well?”
“Esteban, would you kindly escort Señor Ledesma back to the Inquisition chamber?”
After 30 minutes or so of being poked with soft cushions, I again rejoined the group as we were ushered into the whitewashed La Mezquita bodegas that house the wine cellars of the House of Fundador. The bodegas were built with thick solid walls and high ceilings held up by towering pillars and connected by a series of Moorish arches. The unique structure of the bodega helps to achieve a unique microclimate of uniform temperature and humidity that is ideal for fermenting brandy. As we trekked through the bodegas, they seemed to be littered with thousands of stacked oak barrels stretching out for miles.
“The liquor is aged according to the unique Solera system that has been perfected by the House of Fundador,” Don Beltran remarked as he stood among the pyramid of oak barrels. “The wine is aged in American oak barrel casks that have been previously impregnated with sherry. The oak barrels are placed in a three-tiered system, with the youngest liquor in the top barrel and the older liquors in the bottom barrels. The solera system is a dynamic aging process which involves fractional blending — wherein a younger brandy from a higher barrel is mixed with brandy from a lower and older barrel. This process of blending brandies of different vintages gives Fundador the same blend of suave and smooth finish with a tinge of classic oak.” He knocked gently on one of the barrels.
In the middle of the bodega, a table had been set up where they had plopped down several wine glasses containing the different vintages of Fundador — Fundador Solera (one year), Fundador Gold Reserve (three years) and Fundador Exclusivo Gran Reserva (10 years). My eyebrows raised slightly while my eyes danced across the room. And all I could see stretching out into the horizon were thousands of pregnant oak barrels. Dear Lord, would I be able to consume this much Brandy de Jerez? At times like these I really wish my yaya was here to help me.
“Brandy is a good drink with a meal because of its qualities as a good digestif,” the good Don elaborated as he cupped a wine glass in his hand and held it up to a stream of sunlight. “It has the capacity to improve digestion, warm the stomach and reinvigorate the senses.
“I am here to help you appreciate the body of the wine by engaging your senses — the sight, the smell and the taste. So you will merely be inhaling the body of the wine and follow it up by taking a moderate sip.”
Whew. This challenge wouldn’t be too hard. After all, I am quite adept at inhaling and distinguishing bodily smells. But would I be able to rise above my own crudeness to become a true gentleman?
The good Don brought the glass to his face and gently tipped his nose into the wine glass. “Now, immerse yourselves in the aroma.”
Apparently, he says that you should present your nose into the wine glass and then let your lower lip hang out. But I wasn’t too sure if my nose could actually fit into the wine glass. Then again, I have seen some Spanish men do it — and to stick an Iberian nose in a wine glass is quite an achievement. I presented my nose into the glass but the aroma wasn’t presenting itself to me. So I shoved my nose in deeper and deeper into the glass. And as the aroma become more present to me, so did the sensation of brandy dribbling down my pants and riding up into my nose. Suddenly, the wine glass got intimate with my face and refused to come off. Like any stoic gentleman, I feigned calmness until my lungs ran out of air and I passed out on the damp sawdust-laden floor.
“Um, Don Beltran?” asked one of LuBaGS, “I know RJ is just a salingpusa, but should we let him suffocate in his wine glass?”
“Leave it there for a while. It will teach Señor Ledesma a lesson in moderation.”
Right before oxygen deprivation could get a stranglehold on my brain, Esteban gently cradled my head, lifted it up and then smashed the stuck wine glass repeatedly against an oak barrel until it burst into shards. After he brought me back to consciousness, I was escorted with the rest of the LuBaGS to the highlight of our tour: chalk-signing our names onto one of the legendary Fundador oak barrels. Imagine that: My name would forever be emblazoned in the La Mezquita bodega! This testament to my immortality would outlive even my infamy. Now the signatures of great individuals of this century, including former president of the Philippines Corazon Aquino, American actor and noted gun advocate Charlton Heston and the late Spanish Dictator Gen. Francisco Franco would be in an oak barrel lying beside the likes of RJ Ledesma. Like I said earlier, the end of Western civilization as we know it.
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