Liquid Love Letter: Fortification
Courtesy of Unsplash | Photo by Mario La Pergola
Having just spent a few days between Porto and the Douro Valley, each time I leave I immediately look forward to my return. It’s exactly where my mind is currently. The wine, the views, the food, the people. Oh, the wine!
Historically known for Port style wines, they are grown and fermented in the warm and arid Douro Valley, then aged in the more humid conditions in the cellars and ageing warehouses of Vila Nova di Gaia. A key step to producing Porto is the fortification with grape natural spirit that runs 77% alcohol. When this elixir is added to the fermenting wine, the working yeast is killed off retaining yet-to-be-fermented sugar and capturing the fresh and fruity characteristics the Douro is known for with its warm weather and incredibly immaculate vineyards that are terraced painstakingly above the river. It’s a sight to behold, one that you can only understand the gravity of once you see it for yourself.
fortification
for· ti· fi· ca· tion
1
: an act or process of fortifying
2
: something that fortifies, defends, or strengthens
especially : works erected to defend a place or position
Defending a place or position, fortification takes on an entirely different meaning especially while traveling in Europe and seeing castles, elevated walled-cities, and knowing the history of invasions. Extending the shelf life of the people, in this case - fortification in wine protects the wine and extends its shelf life for decades upon decades.
How often do you drink fortified wines? Maybe they will help extend your shelf life. My cohort Cathy has a few delicious recommendations for your below...
Courtesy of Unsplash | Photo by Gaby Yerden
White Port and Tonic
Most visitors to the town of Porto, in Portugal, do the hyper-touristy thing and sit on one of the terraces that line the Douro River, sipping locally-sourced cocktails and watching the river (and life) go by. It is idyllic, particularly so in my opinion when the cocktail in your hand is made of white Port wine and tonic. I’ve done this before a few times in the past, joining (happily!) those tourists on the terraces, with cocktails and chairs turned to face the river and the passages in front of us. Even though I purchase the exact same bottle of white Port right there in the tasting room, and maintain the exact same proportions of tonic and ice, it’s a different experience by the time I get it home. Which is not to say that the wine has changed in any way; it has not. What’s changed is the context, which somehow changes the cocktail. This isn’t entirely a bad thing, because it both boosts my nostalgia for a return back to Porto, and it reminds me of the refreshing spin on the classic G&T that white Port offers. I particularly enjoy Sandeman’s Porto Fine White, which is dry while also maintaining some of its natural sweetness.
Vermouth
One large square ice cube in a glass, with Vermouth poured on top. It does not sound like much, and it isn’t, in theory. But when I saw this on the menu at Lucian Books & Wine in Atlanta, I was intrigued enough to give it a try. I trust their taste implicitly, including when they think they’ve found a Vermouth that is good enough to stand on its own in the glass. Just like with other simple, perfect, luxurious dishes (scrambled eggs with crème fraiche and caviar comes to mind, for example, or margherita pizza with the best mozzarella and basil), the quality of the ingredients makes all the difference. The base of the Vermouth drink is the ice, formatted into a visually appealing, oversized cube. What sets this drink above and beyond, however, is the Vermut from Fred Jerbis in Friuli-Venezia-Giulia in far northern Italy. I have a soft spot for Friuli to begin with, and this Vermouth helps to underscore why: crisp, unexpected, and very food-friendly.
Madeira
I’ve gone deep down the rabbit hole of Madeira in this column before, and I’m guilty of being blinded by my prejudice for this drink. Three times in the past two weeks, I’ve approached the bartender / mixologist where I was dining and asked them if they kept any Madeira at hand. Each one shook their head wistfully and said, “No. I wish!” Why they don’t, I can’t say, especially since they’re apparently clued into the complexity, nuance and shelf-stableness of Madeira, either enjoyed on its own or mixed into a cocktail. But those reasons (complexity, nuance, shelf-stable, flexibility) are each effective reasons for you to keep a bottle of Madeira at hand for yourself, or to give to a friend this holiday season.
