Vindima 2016 Thursday 6th October

Here we are at the airport in Porto with more than an hour to go before check in even opens. I best take advantage of the free wifi and get up to date.

Last Saturday we had a quiet meal with just the two of us. We were expecting left over feijoada from the wine tasters' lunch but they must have eaten it all as were

given pork steaks with mushrooms. It was delicious and all washed down with a choice of wines left over from the tasting. Dot pigged out on a huge bowl of crême brulée while I attached the most delicious cheese board accompanied by a selection of ports. We finished our meal in time to visit the lagars to find out that the grapes had come in later than expected. The treaders were very dilligent in working on to make sure the new grapes were properly crushed before singing the liberdade. I was impressed by their unenforced discipline.

 On Sunday we had a leisurely breakfast before Dywatt, José's son, and his

girlfriend gave us a lift down to Pinhão with our suitcases. Manuel was busy but it wasn't long before we were fixed up with a taxi to take us to Quinto do Tedo, where we planned to undertake their vineyard trail walk. We were pressed to drink a little rosé port before we set off, such a hardship! It really is a delightful if challenging walk. The previous year when we had done the walk it was fearfully hot, but, as it was cooler this time we managed to make it to the two marker stones that were set up just outside the quinta during the Marques do Pombal's demarcation. One of the stones had a very clear inscription due to its sheltered position from which it was clear that it had been raised in 1761.

After completing the walk we had our usual robust tasting of the quinta's superb ports and placed our order for shipping home. Following a smooth taxi ride into Peso da Regua we were soon installing ourselves at the Hotel Imperio where we both fell soundly asleep. In the evening we had our usual meal in the Restaurant O'Maleiro followed by a good night's sleep.

We had decided to spend Monday in Regua before getting the five o'clock train bank to Porto. We set off in the direction of Quinta da Pacheca only to notice that a house that had previously always been closed up had its gates open and a sign saying provas. We were soon inside the Quinta de Tourais  having a tour and tasting their wines. We were given a very special taste of the family's port, which wasn't for sale as it was unregulated. We learned that they have a couple of rooms so we are thinking it would be a good place to stay in the future. After that we passed some time and sampled a few more ports at Quinta da Pacheca before returning to Regua to visit Castelinho's Quinta de São Domingues to buy some of their delicious white port.

Afterwards the train journey back to Porto was largely uneventful except that the train stopped for ages at Campanhã. I was so worried that it was going to set off in the opposite direction that I persuaded Dot and the french group in our carriage to disembark. Luckily I noticed just in time that the train was about to go to São Bento so we all leapt back on board and I had a very red face. We had a brief rest at Peninsular before going out and braving a new restaurant where we had one of my favourites, feveras.

After breakfast we headed up to the offices of Vallegre in Vila Nova de Gaia. We had a fruitful meeting there reviewing their new products and revised labelling. We were given

a half bottle each of 20 and 30 year old tawny. Also Maria had kindly arranged for us to attend a fado performance in the early evening. After the meeting we made our way down towards the waterfront following a devious route that included the ancient Rua de Barão Forester. We lunched on chouriço assado and sangria made with ruby port at the delightful 3+ Arte emporium. They had an empty demijohn that had been used in making Niepoort's garrafeira port, which is about the only style that I haven't tasted yet. The guy thought he could get hold of a bottle for just over €500; we ummed and arred but decided it was too much.

We took in the tour at the Quinta dos Corvos cave, which is next to Quevedo. After which time was getting on and we had been warned by Maria that we needed to collect our tickets for the Fado in good time. We found a short cut up to the top layer of the Dom Luis bridge that we hadn’t known about before. It was steep but quick. We easily found the Casa da Guitarra following the directions we had been given. This shop is must for any guitar aficionados because it is packed with all shapes and sizes of acoustic guitars. When we were given our tickets we were told the performance was due to start at 6:30 pm rather than the usual six. This gave us a chance to pop back to our hotel to freshen up.

We arrived early for the perfomance and were shown to our seats. The other seats at the front soon filled up but there were a lot of empty ones at the back. Eventually at about a quarter to seven a large group of youngsters started to occupy them. We later found out that they were studying tourism. The performance started soon after and was truly wonderful. It was completely acoustic with no amplification before. Both the female and male singers’ voices were superb. Sadly though we were a bit too squashed in to be able to get up and dance. After the perfomance I bought a CD and we went to have a chat with the female singer. It turned out that she recognised us from our dancing at the Quevedo cave. What a small world.

We had spotted a restaurant in Gaia offering javali so we found another shortcut, this time down to the bottom layer of the bridge. I have to say that the javali was excellent if somewhat filling. It had been cooked with chestnuts and potatoes. We couldn’t manage a desert and didn’t stay to have a port as we fancied a drop of Vallegre 20 year old back in our room.

Well here we were suddenly at our last day. Our legs were feeling all the walking we had been doing so we decided to take it easy. We popped over to Gaia to do the tour and tasting at Augusto’s before it got busy. We had been there last year but as it was very busy we didn’t have time to appreciate it. This time there was only two other people who came round with us. We had a jolly good tasting. It was interesting to see how giggly our companions became; they obviously weren’t used to drinking port in the morning. During the tasting we found that the owner also owned Quinta dos Corvos, which explained the similarity in the presentations. We bought a couple of bottles and went to sit by the river for when we thought Kopke would open at two.

However when we walked in we found that there was only one member of staff on duty as the others had just gone to lunch. We decided to have a look round the shop to kill time. We got chatting with the lady there and before long she was giving us a tasting of some really special colheitas. We ended up buying a bottle of the white 2003, which had been bottled earlier this year. By now it was time to go upstairs to enjoy some ports paired with chocolates. We ended up by treating ourselves to a glass of their superb more than 40 years old. By now it was gone four and we were feeling a bit ported out so we walked back up to our hotel for a rest before supper.

That evening we ate at a simple restaurant at the other end of the Rua das Flores because they had dourada grelhada on the menu. Although they were really busy the food was brilliantly cooked. Unfortunately there was a break down in service after the main course so after waiting a good half an hour we paid up and left. I don’t think it did our bulging waste lines any harm not having a desert for once. On the way back home we passed some buskers playing rock and roll so we just had to have a jive. Dot nearly went flying on the uneven pavement but managed to stay upright. Luckily the band decided to take a break then so we carried on up the hill back to our room.

Today, after stocking up with supplies for the journey, we took a taxi out to Foz as Jean had invited us to join her for an early lunch on our way to the airport. As usual we had a lovely meal in her fascinating house accompanied by her anecdotes and experiences. Jean was mortified though to find that she had no tawny port to offer us after the meal. All too soon our taxi was waiting outside to whisk us away to the airport. Being a careful half yorkshireman I had planned to be taken to the nearest metro station and to continue our journey by train. However Dot and the driver overuled me so we travelled all the way in style and comfort. It was interesting to see some different countryside as we went. So after tasting three ports at the airport here we are at goodness knows how many feet flying back to cold old blighty.