Becoming port drinkers

Port. What can I say? When I think of Port drinkers I think of ‘older’ gentleman, sitting in a dusty mahogany filled room sipping it from a small glass in one hand, with a cigar in the other. Who knew that I would actually enjoy the chocolaty flavour of one variety, and the Christmas pudding taste of the other; and who knew that there was white port? I certainly didn’t. I suppose after six glasses of the stuff, which is almost 20% alcohol, you’re bound to like it.

We touched down in Porto from London mid morning with some new additions to our entourage – Sam, a friend of Claire’s from school and Shelly, a uni friend of Sam’s. After wandering around the upper streets of town, and having lunch at the ‘Majestic cafe’ which must be famous because every man and his dog was taking photos out the front (or maybe they just wanted photos of the beautiful girls sitting out the front…) we headed down to the bridge to catch a glimpse of what makes people come here… other than for the Port. 

 

So I must admit to two oversights on my part about Port and Portugal. 1) I had no clue that Port came from Porto, and 2) I didn’t even end up drinking Port in Porto (which I didn’t know at the time). You see, unlike Sydney, which technically stretches for 70kms from the CBD, when you cross a bridge in Portugal you end up in an entirely knew city. In our case, when we crossed the bridge in Porto to where all the Port factories are, we were technically in Guia which would explain also why we saw buses everywhere with ads for the ‘best port in Guia’ which totally confused us at the time.

Actually, I have another oversight to add – the size of the tastings. Having no luck finding a cheap tasting place after walking past several exorbitantly priced Port factories we decided we would just have to splurge and spend 10 Euros each on six tastes + glass of wine deal. Our mistake: we assumed a tasting would be no more than the sip you would get in the Hunter Valley at home. The waiter gave us a funny look when we each tried to order a tasting each, and suggested that in order to avoid stumbling out the front door, we share two between the four of us. Still thinking Hunter Valley sized tastings we gave him looks that said ‘do we look like we can’t handle our alcohol?’, but agreed to his suggestion; hey, we can always order more. When this turned up at our table, we were glad we took his advice:

From syrupy white to thick deep chocolate flavoured ports, they were delicious!… Needless to say our glasses were soon empty.

I will never turn down an offer of a glass of Port again.