spirits

It was 8.30pm. The hinterland when it is too late to drink horchata and too early to get lost in booze and tapas. Cava Siglos just looked too tempting, with its elegant glow radiating out, into Calle de Caballeros. My eyes adjusted to the twinkling delights in front of me as I watched the bar man muttering to himself, uncorking a fancy looking bottle of rioja The first row of spirits was a guided world tour of the history of gin. And above that towered a walled labyrinth of sherry, whisky, everything – all prize fighters of distilled majesty.