Yesterday was Thanksgiving. I hosted (as in “at my apartment”… not as in “I cooked”) dinner here with friends. It was the second Thanksgiving I’ve ever been without ANY family around (the first was in Greece when my Greek/American friend Joanna and I ate massive amounts of pasta after we couldn’t find any Thanksgiving staples. It was awesome.) but friends-who-are-like-family really do make holidays wonderful.
There were seven of us here last night and we all brought food or drinks or dessert or a mix of both. Mia and Scott brought two bottles (I think?) and one of them as a Port. At the time, 24 hours ago, I don’t think I’d ever had a Port wine before. In fact, I didn’t even know what it was. This new found love-of-wine-in-a-slightly-more-intellectual-sense has made my curiosity pique at anything unknown and wine related.
Vinho do Porto is from Portugal, although some other countries do make “Port”. Port is, according to my bible, “A fortified wine that is produced by adding distilled brandy, or aguardente, to fermenting wine.” Port needs a lot of “maceration” to get all the flavors out. There are several types of Port that are all slightly different, a type of drink in its own right, it seems.
Anyway, tonight I’m trying the leftover Port from last night. It is: Fonseca Porto Bin No. 27. Keep in mind I have nothing to compare this to… but here I go:
Dark. It has a hint of purple, but really looks black. At least in this light. It is very thick and coats the edges of the glass when I swirl it.
It smells warm and hard-liquory. I’m not sure I’d even classify this as wine if I just smelled it.
Oh my God. I had no idea. It tastes like caramel and smoke. And not at ALL like wine. It is completely a mix of wine and liquor. This is blowing my mind.
Can I say wow again. I’m not sure I really like it, but maybe it is the kind of drink you can get used to. Or that you need to sip after a day on the slopes in front of a fire. Thoughts?
1. DeSimone, Jeff and Jenssen, Jeff. “Postcard from Porto.” The Ultimate Wine Companion. Kevin Zraly. 2010: Sterling. Pg. 267.