Sherry’s literary connections

17 November 2014 by in Sherry, Wine and spirits

Q: How many bottles are in a butt of sherry?
A: 720

That’s right. Imagine being presented with 720 bottles of sherry. Even the hardiest of drinkers mightbe slightly phased by such a gift. However, that is exactly what you get if you are appointed the British Poet Laureate. Most recently, Carol Ann Duffy, half way through her duty as Poet Laureate, signed a replica of her butt (of sherry) at an exhibition celebrating the tradition.

Carol Ann Duffy SherryNevertheless, as with all British traditions that go back centuries, this has been fraught with scandal and intrigue. According to Julian Jeffs, author of Sherry, the tradition is thought to have started in 1619 when Ben Johnson was presented with a ‘butt of sack’. However, in 1790, Henry James Pye preferred an annual payment of £27 rather than the wine. The butt-giving was not fully restored until 1984, when Ted Hughes was appointed to the position and happily accepted his gift. Seven-hundred-and-twenty bottles, though, is a lot for one person, even a tortured poet, so Hughes gifted a crate to the Queen Mother.

At Infinite Ideas we love books and wine, so what could be better than a book about wine that has literary connections? Julian Jeffs’ book will be available from Thursday (that’s right, in three days’ time). It looks smashing, and is a fascinating read, if we do say so ourselves. If you can’t wait until then, here is a poem about sherry (kind of):

Oh, For A Bowl Of Fat Canary
Oh, for a bowl of fat Canary,
Rich Palermo, sparkling Sherry,
Some nectar else, from Juno’s dairy;
Oh, these draughts would make us merry!
Oh, for a wrench (I deal in faces,
And in other daintier things);
Tickled am I with her embraces,
Fine dancing in such fairy rings.
Oh, for a plump fat leg of mutton,
Veal, lamb, capon, pig, and coney;
None is happy but a glutton,
None an ass but who wants money.
Wines indeed and girls are good,
But brave victuals feast the blood;
For wenches, wine, and lusty cheer,
Jove would leap down to surfeit here.
John Lyly

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