Port and Pals

This is a little two tiered story about how port wine is created, and the friends we made along the way discovering how.

At our hostel in Porto (Sandeman hostel, owned by a port company), we recognized our roommates from Lisbon, Ben and Alex. We were roommates again! They had rented a car and were off to the Douro valley for some exploration, and allowed us to come along!

Port wine grapes are only grown in the Douro valley, a river valley that snakes from the Spanish-Portuguese border to Porto. Due to the mountains, there is a microclimate of heat in the valley, meaning it works well for grapes. The grapes used are super specific as well, as they are only grown in this valley, and only for port. Each port company has their specific vineyards for their own grapes, which get sent down the river for processing and storage.

There was about 15 minutes between deciding we were off to the Douro valley for the day, and us actually going. We are very grateful to Ben and Alex for taking us out for the day. Through a complicated system of toll roads, we finally arrived in the town of Peso da Regua a little over an hour after departure. This town is collectively four streets deep from the river, with grapes tucked everywhere they could possibly be. Various vineyard restaurants and farmhouses dotted the hills, nestled in between the rows of grapes.

We went to the first restaurant we found in the town, and each got a glass of port. Fundamentally, Cam was the only one of the four of us who had any idea what was going on, so the rest of us ordered randomly. After having tastes of everyone’s it was determined that I like tawny’s and Cam likes rose’s. What those terms actually mean, we didn’t quite know.

The grapes get picked somewhere in September, depending on how the season went, and shipped downstream to some sort of factory. We did not visit one of those. The grapes ferment for three days in stainless steel, after which the bacteria’s killed by some stronger grape spirit. The vats of port are then barreled up and shipped down the river to Porto. The fermenting and grape choice is where the specific type of port is decided, being a white, rose, or ruby (and whatever level of reserve [elite-ness] to go with each of those).

We spent the rest of the day in the Douro valley walking around the town, grabbing a quick pastry lunch, and trying a bunch of different ports at another restaurant. Here it became clearer what different types of port there were. There’s white, rose, red (or ruby, used interchangeably) and tawny. The whites and reds come in three levels, regular, reserve and supreme reserve. We tried various versions of all of these wines, and each of the four of us had different favourites again. Cam still liked the rose, I still liked the tawny.

We headed back to Porto and called it an evening. Alex had to return the car. We had a nice walk home from the drop off. We said goodbye to Ben and Alex the next day, as it was day seven of a weeklong trip for them.

Two days later, we signed up for a port tasting and tour at our host’s cellars, Sandeman. There’s barrels of stuff everywhere, aging from anywhere from 3-20 years. Some barrels hold 50,000L. The organizational system for the cellars has got to be really well done, cause they’ve got all sorts of different ports aging for different times for different reasons. Our guide for the tour was quite informative, and answered all of Cam’s questions.

When the port arrives to the cellars, it’s already in its barrels. They are put on the shelf for certain amounts of time, we forget how much for each kind. This is where ruby’s and tawny’s are separated though. Ruby’s age in large barrels with little surface area for oxygen interaction. Tawny’s age in small barrels, with more oxygenation occurring. Once all of the ports are done aging, they are bottled up and kept sideways for more oxygenating action.

Some years are super good for grapes, and they keep bottles of that in storage for extra fancy buyers. These are vintages, and its decided by somebody when its a vintage year. The oldest was from 1904, and the least amount of bottles left was 1908. Sometimes they mix years to create a “this is what a 10 year old port tastes like,” port, so every year they can sell 10, 20, 30 , 40 and 50 year old ones.

After the tour we got to try five different ports. Again, the tawny’s and rose’s reigned supreme. Sitting at our table were five British guys, the lads we call them, they call themselves Ben, Josh, Josh, James and Charlie. We started cracking jokes at the table, and they invited us to grab a drink with them after. We obliged.

We went down the riverwalk to some restaurant that did five for five port tastings. Could not tell you anything about these ports. Can tell you about the lads though. Charlie likes singing and playing the guitar. James is somewhere in the 150-200 range for succession to the British throne. Ben and Josh are twins, and we could tell them apart all day. But when we saw them again the next day, we were only 70% sure which one was which. Josh really wants to grow his hair out, but he always chops it off once it gets to the awkward phase. They were all very kind.

The lads started ordering Super Bock’s, the Budweiser of Portugal but much better on the taste and the budget, for the table. We had some cheeses and stuff. There was a busker that sounded like Gordon Lightfoot playing across the pathway. Unfortunately, he did not know and Gordon Lightfoot. The lads kept making very English recommendations (Sweet Caroline etc.) and kept feeding the buskers tips and us Bocks. Before we knew it, Charlie had taken the guitar and was busking instead. He finished his three songs, to the applause of the patio and sat down.

One of them had the bright idea to bring the busker over for a private concert. 100 Euros, six quick hours and at least eight Bocks later, that was done. We all piled in Ubers, Cam and I in one with Paolo, the busker, and non-twin Josh. We get out of the Uber and ask Josh where their AirBnB is. He has no idea. Twin Josh and the rest of the crew arrived shortly after, and we headed up to the pad. Paolo started playing songs, and Charlie and I were singing along on the couch. According to the video’s, the harmonies between the three of us were pretty decent. We must have spent three hours, singing, dancing and chatting with all of them. It was like we were lost friends reconnecting years after high school, and nothing had been missed.

Eventually, Cam and I got tired and we walked thirty minutes back to our place. Apparently the cops showed up shortly after we left. So good time to get out I guess. We met up with them at the next day at the market for a short time, hung for a bit, and left. They were only in Porto for the weekend.

Whether we like it or not, alcohol brings people together. The day with Ben and Alex, and the afternoon and night with the lads were very memorable for us. The short term friendships we made those days were wonderful, and we hope that we run into all of them again somewhere down the line.