Port Tasting

On day two of our Porto adventure, we got our port shoes on and crossed the bridge to discover various caves filled with alcoholic delight.  To be more precise, there are at least 50 port houses on the Gaia side of the river.  Not all of these houses are open to the public but the big distilleries all do tastings and some are free.  

Crossing the upper part of the bridge proved rather dramatic for me.  Two pedestrian pavements lined the edge whilst the middle of the bridge was made for passing rail trains.  When a train crossed it gave the effect of being in a wind tunnel, only 100 meters up. I gripped the side and willed myself not to vomit.  

 Once I was safely on the other side, I snapped a series of stunning photos.  Port boats waited patiently to haul their wares to Port's various bars and restaurants.  You could almost imagine the thriving trade in the 1800s.

 

We wound down the hill and past the various distilleries--Sandeman, Graham, Taylor's, Cockburn, all household names to the 18th and 19th century Brits who gave the port trade such robust business.  Because, as it turns out, port thrived with the well-to-do gentlemen of colonial London.  So much so that today, only two distilleries are 100% Portuguese owned.  

 

We made our way to one of them, the Ferreira Port Cellars located near the end of half-mile-long strip of cellars.  There, we were introduced to the history of Dona Antonia and her matriarchy that turned her family recipe into a big business.  For 12 euros, we were whisked away into the underground caverns of the distillery and given a tour by the charming half-French, half-Portuguese wife of one of the descendants of the Ferreira dynasty.  She knew enough English to joke distastefully about the British which was a welcome laugh away from the scorn I normally hear because I speak a little bit American.  

 

We learned all about the port trade, its colours, ages, prices before downing three smallish glasses of the viscous fortified wine.  That's all it took for us; we swayed down the street back to the lower deck of the bridge before splitting off.  Chuck went back to the room for a little nap and Rosa and I tried to walk it off.  We ended up switching the powerful port for more palatable wine which had the effect of getting us terribly pissed.  No bother. We made friends with various Portuguese and German quaffers feeling rather convivial.