Diary of a Shopkeeper, 20th November

Autumn sunrise over the steep terraced vineyards of the Douro Valley.

Last week’s diary was all about Sherry, and that set me thinking about the other great fortified wine: Port. I didn’t need much prompting, as customers have already started eyeing up the Port shelves with increased frequency.

‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a customer with Christmas on their mind must be in want of a Port,’ said Jane Austen (sort of.)

Partly it’s the force of tradition. You may not have turkey on Christmas Day, but you will certainly have considered it and either accepted or rejected the tradition. The same goes for non-food traditions too. To attend the ba or not? To sit up past midnight on Hogmanay with a dram waiting for the hoots from the harbour? We don’t have to do these things, but they have the weight of centuries of habit behind them, forcing them into our suggestible minds.

Something else that forces Port into our consciousness is the weather. Midwinter is coming, it’s cold, it’s wet, it’s dark. No one wants a glass of light refreshing rosé when they come home with a chill in their bones. What the season calls for is a drink that’s as dark as a December night, intensely flavoured, and with a sweet kick that warms you as it slips down. Nothing fits the bill like Port.

It’s one of those drinks that carries a lot of history hidden within it. In the early 18th century, England was yet again at war with France, and not on particularly good terms with Spain. But in 1703 the Methuen Treaty was signed, allowing wine to be imported to England from its ally Portugal with no duty paid. A special clause in the treaty specified that this arrangement would continue even during those rare times when England managed not to be at war with France! It was at this point that the sweet, smooth, powerful, red wine of the sun-blasted Douro Valley got its foothold in our cold northern countries.

English and Scottish importers discovered that the source of Port’s smoothness and power was the fact that it was fortified. The addition of a carefully controlled measure of grape brandy to semi-fermented red wine stopped the fermentation, preserving natural sugars. But it also elevated alcohol levels, usually towards 20%, rather than the 11 or 12% that was common at the time. Not much wonder it made an impact! One very welcome benefit of fortification was that it made the wine more resilient, keeping it in good condition during the long slow sea voyage from Porto at the mouth of the River Douro to London or Leith.

Port’s method of production, and its origin high up in the inaccessible, steep-sided gorge of the Douro, meant it was always a relatively expensive wine. This lead to be it being favoured by two groups of people in Britain: wealthy aristocrats, who laid down barrels of it in their cellars, and us lesser mortals, who would splash out on a bottle or two for Christmas. So began the tradition that continues to this day. Port and Christmas go together like Hogmanay and whisky or Easter and chocolate eggs.

Initially Port was thought of here as being a dark purple, fiery, fruity wine. Ruby and Vintage Port are like that, it’s true – with the fieriness turning to a subtle spiciness after long ageing, which fortification makes possible. But that’s not the only style of Port, and increasingly we’re able to appreciate other colours and styles of this great wine. That is a topic for next week’s Diary. Meanwhile, please pass the Port!

For details of our Christmas cheese and wine boxes , have a look at: Christmas 2022.

This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 23rd November 2022. A new one appears weekly. I post them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations., and occasional small corrections or additions.