Cradling a small paper sack of freshly roasted chestnuts mere steps from the edge of the Douro River, I gaze at the watermark high above my head on the wall of an ancient wine cellar. In 1909, a storm that affected much of the Atlantic coast of Portugal and Spain delivered torrential rains that fed the waters of the river. The Douro rose 40 feet, roaring over the embankments into Oporto’s streets in a devastating flood that left more than just a watermark, sweeping a German steamer off course and taking the lives of her captain and five crew members.

Today, the river is a rippling, unthreatening expanse of gray-blue water. Decorating its surface, traditional flat-bottomed barcos rabelos sailing vessels, weighted with wine casks, curtsy slightly in the undulating current, their bows barely dipping and rising. The rabelos, some with colorfully painted masts, are only there for show, anchored within view of the Caves do Vinho do Porto where the country’s famed Port wines are aged. A narrow strip of the Douro separates Oporto from the cellars on this, the Vila Nova de Gaia side of the river. I’ve reached it via the pedestrian walkway of the arched Dom Luis I Bridge, flanked by a collection of other spans that give the city its nickname, “the city of bridges.”

Port wine storage warehouses along the Douro River in Vila Nova de Gaia © Martin Lehmann | Dreamstime.com

Over several days, I discover the city through a selection of white, ruby and tawny Ports within the riverfront tasting rooms at Ramos Pinto, Warre’s and Cálem Port Wine Lodge. While exploring the enchanting history of Port wine, I fall deeply in love with a Cálem Velhotes Fine Tawny. The taste lingers deliciously on my lips as I wander contentedly through the otherworldly spaces of the on-site wine museum at Cálem, established in 1859 by António Alves Cálem, a merchant who helped keep Brazil supplied with Port by trading wine for rare and exotic South American woods.

The displays are riveting. I discover more than 100 kinds of grapes are used in the creation of Port, though favored types include Touriga Franca, Touriga Nacional, Tinta Roriz and Tinto Cão and, to a lesser degree, Tinta Barroca and Tinta Amarela. Grown on small quintas and large estates within the demarcated Douro region, Port wines differ from other wines in that they’re fortified with grape brandy or a neutral grape spirit to halt the fermentation process, allowing sugars to linger in the wine.

The most coveted types of Port are labeled Vintage. Called the “king of Ports,” they’re only produced during the rare years identified by Port’s governing authority, the Port and Douro Wines Institute, as being vintage years. Aged in wood within these flood-prone caves, Vintage Ports are bottled without being subjected to the filtering process that factors into the production of other Ports and can age for decades while fruit sediments work their magic within a bottle’s glass confines. As with all wines, some is lost to evaporation during the aging process. The nominal amount that disappears is said by vintners to be the portion angels have claimed for themselves.

I listen to an English-speaking guide explain to a group of British tourists that Cálem’s grapes are produced on Quinta do Arnozelo, an estate situated within a region often referred to as the “Port wine cathedral,” where the granite and schist rock hillsides soar sharply upward from the banks of the river. Caressed by ample sunlight and winds off the Atlantic, what was once a Roman outpost and later a battleground between Napoleon and the Duke of Wellington has long been a treasured home to vines. Portuguese wines had, in fact, found their way across the country’s borders by the 14th century. The need to protect their provenance was recognized, and Portugal’s demarcated wine regions actually predate both the French appellations (AOC) and Spanish Designation of Origin (DO) classification systems.

Interest in Port exploded in the 16th century when factors, or merchants, began including the wine with shipments of olive oil bound for England. In 1790 the merchants, enthralled with their find, christened the wine “Port” in honor of the town where the wine casks — called “pipes” — were loaded onto the rabelos. They proceeded to form an exclusive gentlemen’s club known as the Factory House, where much plotting transpired around ways to control the now-flourishing industry. An unanticipated glitch occurred when overpricing stemming from the resulting monopoly led to a mass riot and the execution of 26 members of the Factory House. As an organization, the Factory House managed to survive. Still located in Oporto, though not in its original location, it continues to host meetings of port shippers.

Back across the bridge, a street tram to the Foz area delivers me within walking distance of the striking Casa da Música, designed by Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas. Created to celebrate 2001, Oporto’s year as Cultural Capital of Europe, the auditorium and performance space is renowned for its acoustics. Built above one of the city’s old tram garages, the structure’s eight levels feature startling, asymmetric spaces finished in glass, tiles, aluminum, exposed concrete and velvet.

For a bit of contrast, I also visit the towering Sé do Porto, or Porto Cathedral. The acoustics are pretty good here, as well. The Romanesque building with its Baroque façade is noteworthy as one of the oldest monuments in the city and for stunning details in the interior chapels that include a resplendent silver altarpiece created by 17th-century Portuguese artists.

Thirst brings me back into the sunlight. Though Oporto and the Douro region with its steeply terraced river banks may be best known for Port production, there are other lovely wines that also spring from this landscape. Thanks in large measure to my Portuguese-French mother, wines with a little sparkle are something I particularly enjoy, and the Vinho Verdes — green wines — produced nearby have become some of my favorite table wines. A reference to the deep emeralds and cerulean shades of the landscape where they’re produced, the “green” can also be said to refer to their age, and they are definitely meant to be consumed while young. When it comes to color, Vinho Verdes can be red, white or rosé, and most are characterized by a slight effervescence.

Grape harvest in the Douro Valley © Rene Drouyer | Dreamstime.com

Leaving Oporto’s cobbled streets and Vila Nova de Gaia’s cellars temporarily behind, I head into the countryside of the Minho region. Not far away is a multitude of small quintas, marked by granite posts rising toward the sun, impervious to the heavy, ascending vines weighted with grapes growing along them. They’re markedly taller than any trellis system I’ve seen before, but the reason for their height becomes apparent at ground level, where crops of cabbages and other vegetables are flourishing. The limited space available to many area farmers inspired this efficient use of growing space and the development of the highwire grape act, where the elevated vines are called armadas.

As my guide, Benedito, appears, an enormous black and white cat, sleeping at the base of a granite post, opens one eye and stretches languidly. Reaching down to tickle the cat behind the ears, he tells me that the cat’s name is Pequeno, the Portuguese word for small. “Which,” Benedito adds with a smile, “he hasn’t been for a very long time. I think he eats grapes all day and mice all night.”

As we make our way between the granite posts, the cat walking sedately in our wake, Benedito explains that though the Vinho Verde region has been demarcated since 1908, the wines were actually the first to ever make their way into the markets of Europe, preceding the export of Port, and that both Seneca and Pliny made references to them in their writings. Now one of the largest demarcated regions in all of Europe, Vinho Verde is crafted from numerous grapes, with rosés fast approaching whites in popularity.

I give my thanks to Benedito and Pequeno for the tour and return to Oporto. Walking through the historic Ribeira area near the Dom Luis I Bridge, I slip across the threshold of the Wine Quay Bar and order a glass of Warre’s Otima 10-Year-Old Tawny Port. There’s a seat on the balcony with a fabulous view of the Douro. Gazing out at the quiet river, it’s difficult to imagine the floods, or that when first pressed into service as a wine route, the river presented a navigational challenge of monumental proportions. For centuries its waterfalls, rapids and steep drops plagued sailors and merchants as they attempted to fulfill their quest of bringing Portugal’s remarkable wines to the world.

Holding my glass up to the sun, I marvel at this one simple truth: that something kept so long in the dark can be so filled with light. It was D. H. Lawrence who wrote, “If we sip the wine, we find dreams coming upon us out of the imminent night.” He never mentioned that what we’ve been left to pour is merely what angels chose to leave behind.

Oporto Info to Go

Francisco Sá Carneiro Airport, commonly referred to as Porto International Airport (OPO), is seven miles north of the city center. The metro Purple Line connects the city and airport. The airport train station is clearly signed. Public and private buses also provide frequent service, and timetables can be found at the information desk in the arrivals hall. Public buses are numbered 601, 602, 604 and 3M. Taxis are readily available for about 30 euros (about $40) to city center, along with buses and rental cars from all major agencies.