One of my favourite bars in the world is Tabanco El Pasaje, in Jerez, one of my favourite cities and the one I return to more often than most. Sandwiched between two whitewashed narrow streets and with a doorway leading in from each, Tabanco El Pasaje is Jerez’s oldest tabanco, a traditional Andalusian sherry tavern, and it looks as if little has changed since it opened in 1925. Rickety tables and chairs pushed close together, faded bullfighting posters on the walls, any number of local old men propping up the counter, and sherry, named after the city itself, poured from huge barrels behind the bar.
Three times a day there is a flamenco performance on a small, low stage at the back – a guitarist, a cantador (the singer at the heart of the show) and a dancer or two who mesmerise their audience just inches away. Sure, there are tourists there these days, for this is a quintessential, authentic Jerez experience, but they also mingle with Jerezanos for whom sherry and flamenco are intricately woven into the history and culture here. As the Andalusian saying goes: “The wines you listen to, the singing you taste,” and here that makes perfect sense.
