The quality of sherry is not strained

When it comes to satisfying loyal customers, it's the quality of your service that matters, not fashion, says Andrew Jefford

It is, I guess, a bit like watching a school of fish surge and bank in the water, or a flock of autumn starlings dip and turn in the sky.

Where do they come from?

Where are they going?

And what is their unfathomably communal mind going to lead them to do next?

I am, if you didn't guess, talking about fashions in the drink world, which are every bit as perplexing as fashions in any other sphere.

My concern, though, is not for what is thought to be cool.

As with clothes, so with drinks: ludicrous, vulgar and transitory are the words that best seem to sum up some of today's premium packaged spirit drinks, just as they do most of the clothes worn by the grim-looking models ­ in a few years they will have been forgotten.

What really interests me, by contrast, is the fate of the unfashionable, which is so often synonymous with genuine, enduring quality.

Its staying power, indeed, is precisely why it is unfashionable.

Fashion is created by reacting in various (generally silly) ways against precedent, so the mere fact that something has existed for a long time and proved its enduring quality and worth is often enough to render it unfashionable.

Examples?

Gin, Scotch whisky and real ale are all long-term athletes quite erroneously thought to be languishing in the Zimmer zone, but the one I have in mind is classic dry, fino sherry.

It is, quite simply, one of the world's great wines.

Not only does it provide a keenly appetising pre-meal drink, but it also accompanies food superbly, as any one who has ever taken a tapas-crawl in southern Spain will know.

And it is about as fashionable as a bustle.

Perhaps it's our fault.

Rarely can any drink have been as abused in service as fino sherry has been abused in British pubs.

Ludicrous little schooners filled to the brim with tepid, stale sherry that has been sitting at the back of the bar for a month is a form of ritual murder.

Fino sherry is a wine of pungent, distinctive character; it needs to be served fresh from the fridge, in measures of at least 175ml, in a generous, tulip-shaped wine glasses.

And the bottle shouldn't be kept any longer than a week once opened.

For two or three people, a half-bottle is an ideal serving.

Most fino sherry is served in half-bottles in Spain, and almost all importers will offer them in addition to full bottles.

Spain, after all, is a fashionable package nowadays.

Gour-mets slaver at the idea of visiting El Bulli, perhaps the leading avant-garde restaurant in Europe; real men respect Real Madrid; and real women feel even more warmly about Joaquim Cortez.

Why shouldn't Tio Pepe, La Ina or La Gitana be part of the deal?

No reason that I can see, save our lack of imagination.

Which is, of course, where the licensee comes in.

There is no prejudice so deeply entrenched that it cannot be overcome by a little effort and imagination.

It is, remember, satisfying experiences that build customer loyalty and, with it, long-term profitability.

Licensees don't just sell; they shape those experiences.

Seen in this light, easing customers away from fashion victimhood is the soundest of strategies.

Fino sherry is an example I feel strongly about, but choose your own if you prefer.

What matters is to crusade for the quality that you believe in, and for the passion that you feel.