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An Apology for Port
By Sylvia Jansen, DipWSET, CSW, Sommelier
What if I said you could taste an important, historic wine that has been made by people jumping into vats? It does not need to cost an arm and a leg, and it is darn delicious. Interested? Here are a few more details: It is strong. It is sweet. It is usually red. If you have ever tucked into a late-night dessert or your guilty pleasure is a sticky treat with coffee at 10 in the morning, then you should consider Port. No apology needed.
First, let me tell you about the long-ago arguments that brought us here. We know that trade spats between countries are nothing new, but one from the 17th century resulted in an English embargo against French wine. English merchants had to sail past their continental rivals along Europe’s west coast to source wine. As the story goes, when they came to Portugal’s hot Douro Valley, they found just what their thirsty customers wanted: wine that was strong, sweet, and dark.
What created this delicious wine was a familiar technique used in a novel way: while it was common at the time for brandy to be added to wine casks as stabilization for ocean voyages, it seems one of the Douro monasteries added the brandy during fermentation. That stopped fermentation, leaving in natural grape sweetness and the dark, juicy goodness that soon enchanted the British. A new relationship with Port (so named for the city of Porto, its shipping hub) began. English shippers set up shop, and a crazy love affair grew.
An increase in demand (followed by another squabble) led to some of the first established geographical winemaking boundaries and regulations. Port’s rising popularity encouraged the unscrupulous and greedy to pad their pockets. They added extra sugar, elderberry juice, spices, and all manner of disgusting adulterations to punch up the flavour. Cheap wines from elsewhere were shipped in to supplement local supply. A public relations nightmare ensued, and consumer confidence dropped through the floorboards. In the mid-1700s, the Marquis of Pombal, a local hero and de facto executive for the Portuguese king, arrived to establish the boundaries of what was the authentic vineyard area for Port. He also outlawed elderberry bushes and instituted regulations on production. The wines—and trade—improved.
One tried-and-true Port winemaking technique involves people jumping into shallow vats called lagares. Ancient winemakers knew that the human foot is an efficient way of extracting juice and flavour quickly that does not break open bitter grape seeds—and people still occasionally stomp, march, and dance on grapes in the Douro. Special pressing robotic “feet” are more common, but real foot treading is not unheard of (you can sign up to do it—really!). The juice flows into tanks partially filled with a neutral wine spirit (brandy), stopping fermentation. This mix is aged and matured and voilà—we have a wine that offers up natural sweetness with a dose of fortifying spirit to warm the soul on a cold Canadian winter night.
Port styles are varied, including deep, dark ruby styles (relatively shorter maturation); mellow, tawny styles (generally longer maturation); single vintage Port (2% of production but 98% of attention); white Port (white grapes); and rosé (the newest category). Ports range from very sweet to medium dry with alcohol between 19% and 22% (bringing new meaning to the term full-bodied), and all styles have lively acidity that beautifully balances sweetness and alcohol. Most are not crazy expensive.
That acidity and range of flavours give Ports incredible versatility when pairing with foods, from soup and starters to main courses to desserts, savoury cheese boards, and salty after-theatre snacks. Higher alcohol gives most Ports staying power to sit in the fridge for enjoyment over a week (or a few weeks if it is tawny style). And they have a history like no other.
So here’s to you, unapologetically.
