Port Wine: Drink with a Friend

I met Melissa the first day I arrived at Porto after a two-hour train trip northwards from Lisbon along the western coast of the Iberian Peninsula.

We were unpacking our luggage in the hostel room brightened by warm afternoon sun. Solo travelers usually do not need formal introductions to overcome shyness. We recognized each other almost at first sight as "my type of people".

Melissa came from New York, working in international development after graduation from Boston University. Surprisingly, we share similar commitments and most importantly, a passion for seeing the world without too much planning. After a brief chat, we settled our plan to visit a wine cellar together the next day. Any trip to Porto is not complete without an exploration into the wine caves lining the Douro River, especially for wine aficionados.

Porto, even without wine, is as charm as any other European cities with its glimmering river, bustling town squares, medieval and baroque architecture squeezed together on the rolling hillside. It's a layered city with houses row upon row nestled on slopes. Geography inserted a lively character into Porto. Hardly a city can be defined as dull if there is a river meandering through it. Neither will it be boring if it is settled on the hillside. The folks here derive their cheerful spirit from the generous river, the emerald mountain, and the Iberian sunshine. Porto is blessed by both, complemented by its sweet Porto wine.

The first time I encountered Porto wine was during my master's studies in the UK after a formal dinner with second desert called "Port and Cheese". Foreign still to the wine culture, it was funny to me when I first heard this linguistic combination and wondered what a "port" has to do with cheese. Not long after, I realized that "Port" was a kind a fortified sweet wine instead of the "port" that harbors cruises when I was holding a glass of ruby port wine poured from a special-shaped brown-colored bottle. I didn't like it. With a pre-defined impression of how a wine should taste like, I was shocked by the unusual sweetness of the wine. Some naughty child must have thrown tons of sugar cubes to the wine bottle to produce this wine sweetener. That was my conclusion. The first encounter was declared a failure except that I leaned the wine derived its name from its city of origin: Porto in Portugal.

There I was, at Porto, with my curiosity to see through the sweet liquid. I also came with a mission to figure out whether it was the wine's fault or my fault that I didn't enjoy it at all in the UK. Actually, the popularity of Porto wine was closely intertwined with the British history. During the Brits battle with France, French wine was boycotted in the 17th century and the British extended its wine trade to the sunny Iberian Peninsula for substitutes. Yet, the long journey of transportation back to the UK from Portugal spoilt regular wine easily. Inventions were born out of necessity and determination. Brandy was added to fortify the still wine that sustained rocking boat trips. The extra liquor halted the fermentation process and residual sugar from grapes in the wine was left unconsumed, leaving the fortified Port sweeter with higher palate density and stronger in alcohol content. Its special flavor granted versatility to Port in pairing with cheese and in serving as a dessert by itself. The invention of Port is more of British than Portuguese. As I walk uphill on the pave stones to the wine cellar, I passed numerous Port wineries with a name signifying its British origin such as Croft and Graham.

Our destination was no exception: the Taylor's Port winery established as early as 1692 was British. Melissa and I ventured with a group into the underground Port cave where its history was gradually unveiled by a lady dressed in a gown. Walking down a gentle slope, a sweet and sour scent of wine attacked my nose. That was a dazzling sweetness of fermented grapes. Stories of Port origin were told. Varieties of grapes from the surrounding Douro vineyards were demonstrated. The life cycle from a ripe grape to a glass of Port through the process of hand-picking, treading, fermentation, halt of fermentation by adding wine liquor, and aging in oak casks was explained. The dim cave was filled with oak casks. They are the cradle of fine Port. The youthful fruit nuances extracted from the fermentation were being cultivated in oak casks to gain a rich nut flavor for at least 18 months, after which the wine is further blended to produce well-balanced flavor with its own palate appeal ready for another round of aging in bottles or further confinement in casks depending on its style and variety.

Inside of the casks was a beautiful transformative process that takes a long time. Not even a single trace of haste will be tolerated. To gain the best quality of Port, it is worth the waiting. Surrounded by old casks giving out a pleasant grape flavor, I thought of Nv'er Hong, the Shaoxing wine made of glutinous rice buried when a daughter is born into a family and unearthed when she gets married on her big day. The wine ages with the girl and puts on its character that presents its prime when opened. I appreciate wine not for its alcoholic character, but rather for the artistic waiting process. The beauty lies not just in the longevity of time, but a mindset that shakes off any sign of impatience or any idea of trying one's luck to shorten the brewing period. It is exactly the prevalent impatience for earlier success that renders such process of wine aging so admirable.

The walk inside the dim scented cave feels like a spiritual tribute. Melissa and I got exhilerated when entering the tasting hall after chewing all the stories. It was time for something tangible. We were presented with three glasses of Port wine: Ruby Port, Tawny Port, and Vintage Port. The former two were wood aged Port while the Vintage was aged in glass bottles.

As suggested by the wine lady, we started from Ruby Port. Its distinct ruby color casted a bright crystal shadow on the table. It smelled like a mixed basket of freshly-picked cherry and blackberry on a summer day. Aged for roughly two to three years in large oak vats, the wine body retained largely its fruity aroma with limited contact with the oak surface. Tawny is richer and mellower compared with Ruby Port. If Ruby Port is a young lady, then Tawny is a British gentleman who has experience much of life. The wine body is enriched by an aging process for longer periods of 10, 20, 30 or 40 years in oak casks. The color of Tawnies fades gradually to a soft ruby-orange and deep amber as it matures. With more contact with fine oak, the wine extracts delicious aromas of nuts and butterscotch to complement the sharp sweetness and sourness of fruits.

Melissa and I favored Vintage Port the best. Made of blended grapes from various vineyards from the same vintage year, Vintage Port is bestowed only by the best years of harvest. Vintage is a sage, with sediments of time and wisdom. The well-balanced wine body presents a combination of layered flavors. It was hard to describe its taste with an existing word. Rather, a sip of the Vintage felt like taking in the essence of prunes, figs, nuts, dark chocolate, a bit of earth, all at once. None of the components stood out as too much. They completed each other to form a perfect taste orchestra.

We left the tasting hall holding our glasses and found a stone table in the garden overlooking the serene Douro River. Green leaves of small bushes surrounding the garden waves back and forth in the summer breeze. Shadows of foliage were casted from overhead on the grey marble table. We were both a bit dazzled from 3 glasses of Port wine with a alcohol level of up to 20%. Things appeared mellower under the slight effect of alcohol. And the moment was grapy and sweet.

Bathed in the generous sunshine, I felt that Melissa and I had known each other for years. She told me about her sister and I told her how much I missed home. She talked about her love for wine and food and I shared her passion. She described her plan of experiencing life in 30 countries before she turned 30, and we were comparing footprints so far on earth. Our glasses were finally empty, but the moment in a strange city with a friend to drink with was full.

#Europe #Portugal #Porto #Wine