Don Ernesto and La Venencia
Following the footsteps of Hemingway led me to the somewhat secretive and evocative, La Venencia. The name La Venencia refers to the utensil used to sample wine or sherry from a barrel. That’s what this bar is all about – sherry or jerez in Spanish. The bar is located on a quiet street just meters from the bustling streets near Sol in Madrid. There are no bright colors or imposing signs bring attention to the location. The appearance is modest with a veneer of having been around for a long time. This haunt is in fact over 70 years old and served as a Republican hangout during the civil war. Ernest Hemingway frequented La Venencia during his journalistic days to find out what was happening on the front lines.
As soon as I walked in, I was enveloped in the smell of sherry and wooden barrels. I felt swept back decades to the 30s when this place was frequented by Ernest Hemingway when he was reporting on the civil war. The bar has staunchly kept to its historic roots and continues to attract mostly locals; alcohol is limited to a short list of local sherries, no photos are allowed (in the event you’re a fascist), your tab is tracked on the wooden bar using chalk, and you absolutely cannot leave a tip.
I was one of the first to arrive, having been pacing back and forth outside for 10 minutes prior to opening. There were a few other guests that entered shortly after I did. The bar would only be open to the public for one hour, then close to allow the staff to celebrate and enjoy the holiday.
There are two levels to this narrow bar connected by a half dozen or so worn wooden steps. I made my way to the upper level since the few single tables on the lower were quickly taken. I immediately noticed a young gray tabby cat. This cat had the energy and agility of a hormonal teenager. It was darting around and self-entertaining with a small wooden doorstop that sounded similar to a poker chip when it fell against the floor as this young feline attacked it with vigor.
Knowing I only had an hour, I quickly started to sip my first round of sherry, Manzanilla pasado, chasing it with the accompanying delicious green olives. People quickly started to fill the upper level. Ages ranged from those not yet walking to those who have taken countless steps. There was a familiarity and familial vibe among the patrons; close company out to enjoy a sherry on Christmas Eve. Friendly chatter filled the room.
It truly felt like a neighborhood hangout, hidden in the middle of a densely populated metropolis. What struck me was how engaged everyone was in their conversations with each other. There was no music, just conversation and all in Spanish. There was no pause in the rhythm, giving it a symphonic feel, like birds chirping away among the trees.
On way back to the table with what would be my fourth and final glass of sherry, Olorosa, I glanced down at a lovely blond baby with big blue eyes and curls flowing out from the side of his small and delicate head. He couldn’t have been more than six months. I immediately smiled and was so pleased to see him smile back without hesitation and with the ease and confidence of an adult. I navigated my way through conversations and headed back to my table to enjoy my precious few remaining minutes.