A single spark of passion can change a man forever
As I mentioned in my Whitby write-up, at some stage maviscruet offered me a glass of Not Port.
Now, ordinarily I have a policy of not accepting poorly-specified beverages from strange men, but it was explained: this was a port-like fortified wine, but it was not made in Portugal. Ergo it was not port, in the same way fizzy wine made using the champagne method is only champagne if it comes from a particular corner of France.
To which my response was: oh. Does port have to be made in Portugal?
(By the way, the Australian Not Port was great. Interestingly, the label didn't say "fortified wine" or "port-esque substance", it simply said in a very twiddly gold manner "ten year old tawny" and left you to figure out the noun for yourself. Nothing is ever tawny except port. And owls.)
A couple of weeks later an email from Harrison'srolled in. Harrison's thinks it's my local wine merchant, which also sells cheese and pate. I'd say they're my local deli, who also have some wine out the back. Anyway, would I like to pay them £12.50 for a port tasting masterclass?
Yes, actually, yes I would.
I trotted up there after work, and squeezed into my allotted seat among the wine racks. And was given a plate containing approximately five people's war-time weekly cheese ration (in Colston Bassett Stilton, salty cheddar, and reblochon, plus oatcakes, celery and grapes).
Doug Harrison has been a wine merchant for decades; I've met him at Harrison's events before. He's exactly what I expect from a wine merchant. Grey-haired and probably in his late sixties, extremely well-spoken, and a faint hint of red about the nose. He's also hugely knowledgeable, but generous with his knowledge; happy to share and explain without making you feel an idiot for asking.
So for 90 minutes he stood up, and did something between a lecture and an after-dinner speech. I painlessly absorbed a remarkable variety of facts, and glasses of five different ports. I hadn't realised that I didn't really understand the word "vintage" when applied to wine (unlike cars, it's not about age). I've now got a grasp of why late-bottled-vintage is cheaper than vintage (it matures more quickly in the barrel, so it's ready to drink sooner. Vintage does its maturation in the bottle, which is why you need to decant it). I know, rather uselessly, that there are 19 varieties of grapes which might be used to make white port. I know, also not usefully, that after the Battle of Trafalgar, one of Nelson's officers used his own money to lay down two pipes (i.e. barrels) of port to be drunk by the Navy at the commemorative 100 and 200 year anniversary dinners.
And people asked smart questions, and dumb questions, and we laughed a lot.
I remain a rather non-discerning palate. The differences everyone else claimed to taste between the ruby and the tawny were less obvious to me. But even I could detect the massive difference between the LBV (£15 a bottle) and the vintage (£45), with the latter a hugely intensified, powerful version of the former. We all dutifully passed the decanter to the left.
I came home with a bottle of the LBV. Allegedly, port only lasts at its best for three days after opening, so I've got a really busy weekend coming up. (See also, lack of discernment. Just before this tasting event, I finished a bottle which had been open since about March. Seemed fine to me.)