Why is port pre eminent?
Posted: 06:03 Thu 15 Nov 2007
The gastronome Brillat-Savarin is said to have cried out, feeling the sands of life slipping away, "Bring on the pudding, I am about to die". Being a Frenchman, he probably said this in his native tongue, and whether his closing exclamation lost or gained anything in the translation, history does not relate.
But I digress, for which my bishop has often reproved me. Most members of this forum would, if caught in Brillat Savarin's predicament, call for the port, always assuming that they are not such big girl's blouses as to call for a doctor.
This supposes, by the way, that the dying man is at home and, unless he has done very well for himself, need not waste his dying moments deciding between the Lafite 61 or 82 which he probably does not possess.
Now, my question is not which port, although that question is worth asking, but why port? Although I might call for vintage Madeira in these circumstances,I know that port has the gravitas for such a moment. Equally, it has the warmth of character I would want when facing the end. I suppose that to meet one's maker whilst holding a champagne flute would be asking for trouble, a table wine could just look mundane, but port, well, the Almighty would probably hope to join you in a glass, although the same can probably not be said for St Peter.
The Tsars of Russia were, when on their deathbed, given a drop of Tokaji Essencia on their lips, one notable Romanoff soak feigning death seventy eight times before anyone caught on. The Russians, I think, had the same idea which I try to convey. A noble wine is a suitable farewell to this world, and, one hopes, a taste of the next.
One snag, I suppose, is that if the grim reaper approaches stealthily, then decantig times could be a problem which might themselves hasten the end, but I leave others to comment. It is, perhaps, an argument for always having some port ready.
But I digress, for which my bishop has often reproved me. Most members of this forum would, if caught in Brillat Savarin's predicament, call for the port, always assuming that they are not such big girl's blouses as to call for a doctor.
This supposes, by the way, that the dying man is at home and, unless he has done very well for himself, need not waste his dying moments deciding between the Lafite 61 or 82 which he probably does not possess.
Now, my question is not which port, although that question is worth asking, but why port? Although I might call for vintage Madeira in these circumstances,I know that port has the gravitas for such a moment. Equally, it has the warmth of character I would want when facing the end. I suppose that to meet one's maker whilst holding a champagne flute would be asking for trouble, a table wine could just look mundane, but port, well, the Almighty would probably hope to join you in a glass, although the same can probably not be said for St Peter.
The Tsars of Russia were, when on their deathbed, given a drop of Tokaji Essencia on their lips, one notable Romanoff soak feigning death seventy eight times before anyone caught on. The Russians, I think, had the same idea which I try to convey. A noble wine is a suitable farewell to this world, and, one hopes, a taste of the next.
One snag, I suppose, is that if the grim reaper approaches stealthily, then decantig times could be a problem which might themselves hasten the end, but I leave others to comment. It is, perhaps, an argument for always having some port ready.
