The head still reels from a recent visit to Portugal — but maybe its the jet lag. On Wednesday we returned from a 12-day excursion to Portugal, which was part study tour, part vacation. And the wine! Like all European wine regions, Portugal’s is a confusing jumble of viticulture areas (Vinho Regional) and Denominations (Denominação de Origem), complicated by the names of grape varieties not grown anywhere else. It isn’t helpful that the same variety may be used in different regions but with different names in each region. We certainly will not try to explain them all, and suggest the reader consult an excellent guide on the subject, The Wine and Food Lover’s Guide to Portugal by Charles Metcalfe and Kathryn McWhirter (Balcombe: Inn House Publishing, 2007). Many thanks to Wink Lorch of Wink’s Wine and Travel World for the referral. Much of the information the follows is derived from numerous sites, but primarily from Metcalfe and McWhirter and Eyewitness Travel: Portugal (Ferdie McDonald, Ed., London: DK Limited, 2010).
What did we learn? Our sense was that geography is destiny — physically cut off from the rest of Europe by Spain, which was always viewed with suspicion, its greatest ally was and is England, another seafaring power from earlier days. Of course its royalty formed alliances with the leading houses throughout Europe in that incestuous way of theirs, but for the most part they remained isolated and distinct, even after pushing off into Africa, Asia and the New World and becoming a mercantile superpower (rivaled only by Spain) during the 15th and 16th centuries.
Roman Roots: Conimbriga
A fascinating window into the development of the country lies in Conimbriga, a fascinating ancient Roman town outside of the village of Condeixa a-Velha. It was one of the largest Roman settlements in Portugal, and only 15 percent of the site has been excavated. What has been uncovered so far gives a glimpse into Roman civilization from the founding of the city in the second millennium B.C. to about 468 A.D., when barbarian invaders finally destroyed the city.
Conimbriga reached its maximum extent in the first century A.D., but by the end of the third century, the Roman Empire had degraded to the point where the city contracted by half its size and built substantial walls to provide protection to the occupants. The buildings outside of the perimeter of the old wall were razed and their stone used to build the new wall, which was over six meters high and three meters thick, with a permanent garrison.
The one of the more interesting structures is called the House of the Fountains, which was discovered in 1939. In the middle of the peristyle there is a gardened water arrangement, with raised beds in the middle of a pool. The various rooms surrounding the peristyle feature impressive, exuberant mosaics, which are well preserved. These mosaics date from the Severan era, from 193 to 235, and depict several themes, such as hunting, the cycle of Bacchus, Perseus and the Gorgon, and the Chimera. The name of a single owner of the house has come down to us, C.G. Rufus.
Other sites excavated include lavish baths (several of them, actually), the forum, an aqueduct, various insula (multi-dwelling buildings with plumbing), a Paleo-Christian Basilica, additional grand houses, the largest being attributed to a gentleman called Cantaber, who is known to have been an imperial aristocrat living in Conimbriga when the town was plundered by the Suebii in 468. This house is known to be the only large house still in use when the town was destroyed that year.
Born of Destruction: Lisbon
On All Saint’s Day, 1 November 1755, a massive earthquake struck in the morning and reduced most of Lisbon to rubble, followed by a great conflagration, then huge waves rolled in an hour later from the Tagus, flooding the lower part of the city. The death toll has been estimated at 10,000 in Lisbon and up to 100,000 throughout the region, with 85 percent of the Lisbon’s buildings destroyed. Then — as now — the event was followed by debate over whether the earthquake was a natural phenomenon or an act of divine wrath (recall the reaction of religious pundits to the Haitian Earthquake of 2010).
The great thinkers and literary figures of the time debated the significance of the event, and out of it came several significant works, among them Voltaire’s Candide (1759). We’re sure you know the story: Candide, born in a palace, lives a sheltered life in a paradise and follows the “Leibnizian optimism” of his mentor, Pangloss. Through a series of misadventures, Candide suffers all the hardships of the world, including the great Lisbon earthquake. In the end Voltaire concludes with Candide advocating the simple phrase, grounded in the practical, and in the earth: “we must cultivate our garden,” in lieu of the Leibnizian mantra of Pangloss, “all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds.
Lisbon’s reconstruction was handled by Sebastião José de Carvalho e Melo (1699-1782), the chief minister to José I who later became the Marquês de Pombal. The reconstruction of the center of Lisbon took place rapidly, with a modern grid plan running from the waterfront. That area is now known as the Baixa. It took many years to complete, and the triumphal arch spanning Rua Augusta was not finished until 1873.
Our first night in Lisbon we dined in Baixa at Gambrinus, a tradition-bound restaurant which has been at the same location since 1936. Our host selected it because of its comprehensive selection of old port.
I won’t recount our meal, but when it came time for dessert and drinks, our host was rather circumspect — was there a surprise in store? She selected a 1983 Borgos Vintage Port. Given the age, it turned into quite the production, because there was no way to extract the cork. The wine had been brought out and laid on its side for a time in a wicker basket. They dusted off a special table equipped with a flame, and heated up special tongs, which they used to heat the top of the bottle. After much sweating and pacing (the waiters looked more like prize fighters preparing for a match — a great show), they applied the tongs several times, twisting them to and fro, heating the neck of the bottle, then poured ice water over the neck. With a gentle tap, the top was off. They served it. And it was good. Quite unlike any of the other ports we’ve had so far; surely the alcohol was as high as the others (around 18 percent), but this was balanced, toasty and nutty, more like cognac than port. Delightful.
The Duoro and Port Wine
Pombal’s command of the reconstruction led to his almost total political control, and it was during his control of the country that he demarcated the boundaries of the Douro wine region in 1756, the first such mapping in the world. Out of respect for Pombal we sought out his final resting place in a church in Lisbon, the Igreja da Memória. He had died a year after being banished from Lisbon by Maria I, the Monarch who succeeded José I.
Traveling from Porto to the Douro wasn’t easy in the old days, and not that simple today, either. Travel up the river was simplified in the last 50 years with the construction of a series of dams that tamed the wild river. There is an apocryphal story about Joseph James Forrester, one of the 19th century Port barons, who lost his life after a lunch at Quinta da Vargellas when his barco rabelo overturned in 1862. His body was never found, having been weighed down by a money belt filled with funds to pay his farmers, while the ladies in his company were bouyed up by their crinolines.
The Douro is inextricably linked with the cities of Porto and Vila Nova de Gaia, where the port lodges traditionally do their blending. The two cities gave their name to the country, originally called Portus and Cale; by medieval times the name was given to the region, and finally to the entire kingdom as Portucalia. On our arrival we checked into the Castelo de Santa Catarina, after a stroll through Porto’s Ribeira district, the Cathedral District, with a stop at the São Bento Railway Station, then down to the waterfront, we tucked in for dinner at a very simple, inexpensive and authentic Portuguese restaurant, called simply “A Grade,” a traditional tasca, with just four or five tables on Rua de São Nicolau. Definitely a family affair — all of the servers had identical noses. The owner served us the distilled spirit used to fortify port — We ordered far too much, but enjoyed it immensely. The next day took us to Vila Nova de Gaia, where we visited a couple of port lodges, starting with Ramos Pinto. The atmosphere was hushed and reverential; a bit over the top. We stopped in at Sandeman, but chose not to stay because it was so busy, and visited Quevedo, a relatively new port lodge founded in 1991, which seemed to attract a much younger crowd.
Sitting a cafe on the Porto riverfront you can see virtually all of the port lodges — Cálém, Croft, Sandeman, Ramos Pinto, Ferreira, Graham, Barros, Cockburn, Taylor — their names picked out in lights on each building. On a hilltop overlooking the entire scene is the Mosteiro da Serra do Pilar, a 16th century church where Arthur Wellesley (1769-1852) the future Duke of Wellington planned his surprise attack on French forces in 1809, an additional reminder of the close relationship between Portugal and the English that was formalized with the Methuen Treaty of 1703. That treaty granted favorable trading status to port wine exported to England and English woolen goods imported to Portugal. During the War of Spanish Succession the English had difficulty securing claret from France, and this alliance with Portugal secured an alternate source of wine for England and helped create the port wine style. The addition of brandy better preserved port during its journey overseas.
The next morning we traveled first by boat from Porto to the town of Régua, then by train to Pinhão, and then by taxi up long, treacherous roads to where we were staying, the Casa de Casal de Loivos, a 17th century manor house on a hill top about seven kilometers above Pinhão, which may have the best views in Portugal. Our rooms were in the portion of the house that once housed the stables. The house has been in the same family for some 300 years. They have two and a half acres of vines, a jumble of Tinta Roriz, Touriga Nacional, Touriga Franca, Tinta Barroca and Tinto Cão. The Portuguese only recently started planting single varieties in large blocks like we do in other parts of the world. We were informed that some vineyards have up to 35 different varieties mixed together. The Casa produces its own label, Casa de Casal de Loivos.
The terracing is astounding, and the region has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site (frankly, all of Portugal appears to be one). Typically each terrace is wide enough for three rows of vines. The “soil” (if you can call it that) is schist, very rocky and fractured, which allows the vines’ roots to burrow deep into the earth, a necessity in this arid climate. The rock radiates heat, aiding ripening. At Casal de Loivos, the vine spacing was about one meter, the space between rows on each terrace about two meters, and the vines trained to a a wire about 5o centimeters from the earth. This has been going on here for some 2,000 years.
We dined at the Casa that night and had two wines with dinner — preceded by an aperitif of White Port, of course. The first was a 2009 Morgadio da Calcada, fragrant with hints of lemon and spice, and the second a very complex red blend from the 2009 vintage with wonderful acid, firm tannins and a marvelous bouquet, with hints of leather and lavender from the Quinta do Vallado, a very storied estate owned by the Ferreira family, which has been producing wine since 1751. It’s most famous owner was the legendary Dona Antònia Adelaide Ferrerira (1810-1896), With her husband she founded the Qunita do Vesúvio estate, and spent 13 years overseeing the terracing and planting. She was widowed at 33 and continued the business and set about buying and developing vineyards throughout the Duoro, ultimately owning more than 30 quintas. Nicknamed affectionately A Ferreirinha (“the little Ferreira girl”), she did much to improve the conditions for the Duoro farmers by building hospitals, nurseries, schools and roads. She was with the unfortunate Mr Forrester when his life was claimed by the Douro in 1862; she survived and lived to the ripe age of 86.
Maria I & the Palácio de Queluz
When we returned to the capital, we did not stay in Lisbon, but at the Pousada de Queluz, about halfway between Lisbon and Sintra. which was the building that formerly housed the Royal Guard of the Court of the Palace of Queluz.
A note on the Pousada system: In the 1940s the Portuguese government created a national network of state-run country inns. Usually they are set in remote, scenic locations with friendly, personalized service, and all are in historic or palatial buildings. Most have highly recommended restaurants. The restaurant at this Pousada where we dined our second night there, Cozinha Velha, is to be recommended, and often hosts visiting heads of state, who usually stay at the Palacio de Queluz as guests of the Portuguese government.
The Palácio de Queluz was commissioned by Pedro, the younger son of João V, who in 1747 directed that a 17th century hunting lodge be converted to a summer palace. After Pedro’s marriage to his niece Maria I (1734-1816) in 1760, the palace was extended and the gardens, Throne Room, Music Room were added. (Maria was the Monarch, and Pedro the Prince Regent.) This Palace is often compared to Versailles, with good reason, especially for the gardens.
The afternoon of Easter Sunday we stopped at the Jardim de Estrela with its 1884 bandstand, ducks, herbaceous borders, mature trees — a pleasant, shady respite. Overlooking the park is the Basilica da Estrela, which is the burial place of Maria I, who promised to build a church should she bear a son and heir to the throne. She did, and work began in 1779, but her son eldest son José died from smallpox in 1788 at the age of 27, two years before the Basilica was finished in 1790, and Maria spiraled into depression and suffered terrible visions and hallucinations. She was, in a word, mad.
When Spanish forces allied with Napoleon invaded Portugal in 1809, the entire royal family fled to Brazil, and Maria died in Rio de Janiero in 1816, but her remains brought back to Lisbon and interred in this church. The Basilica is in a Baroque neoclassical style, with colored marbles and amazing light.
Dinner that night took us back to Baixa, where we picked another hole in the wall; we did not note the name and probably couldn’t find it again. We dined on grilled salmon, and a Portuguese specialty of pork and clams, so that night we tried another white from the Duoro, a 2010 Planalto Reserva Vinho Branco Seco, a light-bodied, smooth white with ripe pear, lemon and herbs. Great acid and balance, perfect with simply prepared fish. Our second wine (so we could try as much as we can, we have two wines with dinner) was the 2007 Bairrada Marques de Marialva Vinho Tinto, an intense but finely structured wine. This should have gone with a steak, but it was great with our chocolate dessert.
Other Places.
There were many other stops on the journey: Óbidos, a Medieval walled town; three days in Sintra, with more amazing palaces like the spectacular Palácio de Pena, built on the highest peak in Sintra by Ferdinand Saxe-Coburg-Gotha for his wife Queen Maria II. It stands on the ruins of a Hieronymite monastery. The architect was German Baron Von Eschwege, and the place had that heavy, opulent, German Baroque style, certainly not to our taste, but in that magnificent setting something to behold. The Palácio Nacional de Sintra, with its unusual conical chimneys. On the tour we learned that the kitchens are in the chimneys, which ventilate the entire kitchen, where whole spits of meat would be turned over fires in the middle of the room. Quinta da Regaleira, the summer residence of the family of António Augusto de Carvalho Monteiro (1848-1920), with its strange house and even stranger, mystcal gardens. The Palace of Monserrate is another Romantic monument, perched dreamlike in the Serra Hills of Sintra. This eclectic palace blends the Venetian Gothic idiom with Indian and Moorish style. It’s hard to believe the family used the place only a few weeks each year.
Dominating one of the highest peaks in Sintra is the remains of an 8th century Moorish castle. While in Sintra we stayed in another landmark, Lawrence’s Hotel, the oldest operating hotel on the Iberian Peninsula, which has been coddling guests since 1764. Lord Byron (1788-1824) reportedly stayed there in 1809 while writing his epic poem, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage; in that work he described Sintra as a “glorious Eden.” Yet in the midst of all that splendor is the Capuchos Convent, a 16th century Franciscan monastery hewn from the rock of the Sintra HIlls and lined with cork, all quiet and humility and toil.
What Did We Learn?
We visited so many varied around Lisbon and up and down the coast — towns, chapels, museums, monasteries — perhaps we’ll write more on all this later. Portugal appreciates its rich history, and shows a devotion to its wines and an uncanny sense of place. We stopped in a few wine shops, and had wine with every lunch and dinner (and on one occasion a sparkler with breakfast, in Luso at the Palace Hotel Bussaco). Without question the regional specialties and the wine were made for each other, and each spoke volumes about each region. On only one occasion did we find a restaurant that served a wine other than Portuguese, and that was an Italian restaurant on the Tagus in the shadow of the Monument to the Discoveries called Nosolo Italia, which had a few bottles of Italian wine (one of our guidebooks wrote highly of it, and we had enough codfish). Just to have something different we ordered the “house wine,” which turned out to be a rather lifeless Italian Chardonnay — but even at this restaurant, the wine list was dominated by Portuguese selections. The wine shops? Same story — all of the offerings in the few we visited were Portuguese.
Is there a lesson here? Just to bring it home — the locavore/locapour movement has certainly embraced this devotion to place and terroir; the Portuguese already live it. Surely those who embrace other cultures when on that soil, live it. We try to, immersing ourselves in the place we are visiting. How better to know it? But why is there that disconnect in the United States? We recall news stories reporting that many chefs in San Francisco, for example, choose to pair their food with French and Italian wines because they don’t believe the local wine complements their cuisine, to the horror of the locavore and the winemaker. Here’s what we’d like to see: a “foodie” destination where most restaurants feature food and wine without qualification or reference to the cuisine of other countries and cultures – more Inn at Little Washington or The Clifton Inn or Patowmack Farm or Molasses Grill than Tavola Italian Kitchen or Tra Vigne or Bistro Jeanty. To fully enjoy and appreciate a place, we want an authentic experience that is an expression of that place, and not a pastiche of somewhere else. We’re getting there — but will this take 2,000 years on these shores? Let’s hope not.
For additional photographs, see this link.
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