1951 Garrafeira Particular

[Will W.]

Sergeant B. is an old sweat. Now long retired from Her Majesty’s service, he nonetheless retains a capacity to send rounds downrange at a rate which would break men a third of his age. Whisky, gin, vodka, still wines and beer are his munitions of choice.

Sergeant B.’s shack sits about 1,000 metres from my own amidst the barrens of the Avalon Peninsula. We have been friends for a good while, and I introduced port to his arsenal about two years ago – discovering in the process, as did he, that m’buddy is possessed of a very fine palate.

Amongst the bottles which I hauled home recently was a garrafeira particular, the label of which provided no hint as to provenance, beyond the fact that its contents amounted to a 1951 colheita from the Douro. This particular jar had been removed from the cellar for consumption with Sergeant B., the latter having been born in what was no doubt a fine year for everything save port wine. Correspondingly, I warned my pal that we would do well to temper our expectations. In the event, we need not have done, for the wine made for a superb accompaniment to the spirit of comradery extant within Sergeant B.’s cabin whilst a gale was blowing outside. Indeed, as the weather was making for such a dirty day, soothing libations of any sort had been properly earned by high tide. To have pretended otherwise would have been unbefitting of Newfoundlanders.

We got to the port, having worked our way through much else – including a rather nice 1985 Dao – after the fortified wine had reposed for four hours in the decanter. The nectar was clearly of considerable maturity; there was a green halo ‘round the rim which medieval painters would have hesitated to portray above Our Saviour, to avoid accusations of excess religiosity. As to the remaining visuals, Sergeant B. was invited to describe the colour, to which he responded, “like the old fencepost by the door.” ‘Twas true enough. For readers not resident along the old Witless Bay Line, the wine was dark amber in appearance, with clear indications of Douro bake at the core. As I find is often the case with garrafeiras particulares, a hint of cloud was evident in the glass, though in this instance it was not so severe as to be off-putting.

A four-hour decant of this wine was likely an hour-and-a-whiff too long. That noted, when we did get to the port with a sense of purpose there remained much for the olfactory nerve to ponder. For instance, a load of smoke was in evidence, redolent of a Portuguese brushfire. Likewise to the fore was a pleasing mixture of dark chocolate and leather, complemented by notes of vanilla and nutmeg. A certain earthiness was also notable. I was unable to decide whether the latter reflected a touch of topping up, perhaps twenty years ago, or a hint of walnut skin. Whatever the case, the nose constituted a delight.

The effect of this wine on the palate was in every respect agreeable. On entry, what I took to be caramelised brown sugar was briefly in evidence. I detected a touch of bottled cherries as well. For his part, Sergeant B. likened the sensation to karo syrup. I had not heard of such a thing. Evidently, it is some sort of corn syrup cut with salt and vanilla, used by mothers in Sergeant B.’s day as a tonic for all manner of childhood maladies, ranging from the common cold to (if I understood correctly) rheumatic fever. Whatever its alleged palliative properties, the said karo syrup gave way quickly at the mid-palate to the dark chocolate, vanilla and walnut discerned at the nose. Beyond that, blood orange rind and a hint of cinnamon came into gentle view. At the finish, the chocolate, orange peel, cinnamon and the rest hung about the mouth as would a soothing balm applied to a troubled soul - complemented by a mouth-watering acidity which did not detract from the stars of the performance.

This medium-weight port was just to the dry side of the median; the spirits used in its fortification were so entirely implicit that I could not think of a garrafeira particular – amongst the great many that I have consumed over the last five or more years – where the aguardiente had been so well integrated.

No charlatan in his right mind would claim a port not from 1951 to be a ’51. This supposition, along with the heavy green on the rim and scant evidence of meaningful topping up, leave me in little doubt that we celebrated Sergeant B.’s year of birth with the real deal which, to hazard a guess, was bottled ten or fifteen years ago. Whatever the case, this fine colheita was eclipsed only by the quality of the company.

-93 points

[JacobH]

A very enjoyable tasting note, as always.

I particularly like your rhetorical question: who would put 1951 on a bottle of Port were it not genuine?

That said, I think André Simon said that during the War, when stocks of Port were running out, some people were faking recent vintages due to the problems with importing it. I wondered if this is what this 1933 Croft was. I can see if there was no Port available, one might even fake a Cockburn Special Reserve. Although that still doesn’t provide a motive for the 1951 so I think we can assume it is as genuine as any colheita can be.

[Doggett]

Sounds Yummy!

[MigSU]

And where did you acquire such an interesting specimen? I'm assuming it was not through our 'mutual friend'.

[Will W.]

And where did you acquire such an interesting specimen? I'm assuming it was not through our 'mutual friend'.

Quinta do Luis? No. According to my spreadsheet, I purchased it at auction (Oportunity Leilos) for EUR 52, I suspect two or three years ago.

[MigSU]

And where did you acquire such an interesting specimen? I'm assuming it was not through our 'mutual friend'.

Quinta do Luis? No. According to my spreadsheet, I purchased it at auction (Oportunity Leilos) for EUR 52, I suspect two or three years ago.

I know the place. You took a bit of a risk, there, but your earlier assertion makes sense, if someone was faking an old colheita, they would not pick that particular year.

[Will W.]

And where did you acquire such an interesting specimen? I'm assuming it was not through our 'mutual friend'.

Quinta do Luis? No. According to my spreadsheet, I purchased it at auction (Oportunity Leilos) for EUR 52, I suspect two or three years ago.

I know the place. You took a bit of a risk

Indeed, some would suggest that the auction house in question is the go-to point of sale for Portuguese forgers of (allegedly) older colheitas. I could not possibly comment.

[MigSU]

Indeed, some would suggest that the auction house in question is the go-to point of sale for Portuguese forgers of (allegedly) older colheitas. I could not possibly comment.

I actually never bought anything off there, more from a lack of habit than from any distrust. I didn't even know about its alleged reputation, but I'll certainly keep an eye on its auctions, even if just for the laughs.