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It takes a discerning nose, disciplined devotion, and an encyclopedic palate to be a respected oenophile. I arrived in Portugal’s Vinho Verde wine region possessing none of the above. Fortunately, that’s forgivable in a land where vintners are as friendly and easy to like as the wines they make.
There are plenty of reasons to visit Portugal, from its sandy beaches, cultural riches, flavorful cuisine, and mild climate, to its lost-in-time pace of life and inexpensive cost of living. But in the Vinho Verde region of northern Portugal, a lush area of emerald hillsides carpeted with vineyards, it always comes back to the wines.
The vine occupies some 135-square-miles of land in a region where the unique alchemy of cool Atlantic breezes, a fertile landscape with twenty-two centuries of wine growing history and 30,000 wine growers, produce 1,000 brands of fresh, light aromatic wines known collectively as Vinho Verdes.
Armed with a steno pad and a Trader Joe’s two-buck-chuck pedigree, I managed to hitch my curious self to a visiting group of erudite US and British wine tasters, sommeliers, and importers. For four days, I would sip, spit, swill, and swirl close to 150 varieties of Vinho Verdes.
Although it has been producing Vinho Verde—“green wine” named for its youthful freshness rather than its color—since Roman times, until recently, the remote viticulture area was still relatively undiscovered outside of Portugal. Today, it’s an emerging destination prepared to welcome visitors. Now, tucked among the historic manor houses and mansions, is a smattering of boutique hotels, artisan wineries, and casual yet sophisticated restaurants, each lovely but seemingly void of tourists.
That’s good news for travelers. As we wandered from winery to winery, I felt like an intrepid explorer discovering an up-and-coming wine country that is still largely undiluted by the mainstream masses.
Vintners here, whether hip young aristocrats turning the family estate into an international business, large industrial producers, or regional cooperatives, are aiming high these days and courting a sophisticated global audience.
Adventurous winemakers willing to try new things, like bio-dynamic producer Vasco Croft of Afros Wine, are seducing connoisseurs worldwide with pure crisp Loureiros and sexy refined Vinhãos—a tart, tannic red variety historically unpalatable to foreigners.
Unlike other countries that succumbed to commercial demand by uprooting their traditional grape varieties and replacing them with the ubiquitous Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon, Vinho Verde producers stayed true to the charm and history of their distinctive Portuguese grape varieties—Loueiro, Trajadura, Arinto, Alvrinho, Azal, Espadeiro and Vinhão. The result is wine that is the unique expression of the region’s characteristics: granite soils, intense rainfall, high humidity, and the acid richness of the grapes.
Not all Vinho Verdes, I discovered, are created equally. Each is as varied as the man or woman who makes it. And here, in the Portuguese outback, often as not, you’ll find the producers themselves behind the bottle pouring favorites, telling their stories, explaining the intricacies of micro-climates, and pruning practices, or inviting you in for a tour of the family home.
Case in point is Francisco Dias Costa of Casa de Vila Verde, a thirteenth century noble estate. “We love to receive visitors, show them around, and pour them a taste,” he says inviting us into the historic manor house kitchen for a glass. Although his ancestors had been making wine for private consumption since the 1600s, the passionate young entrepreneur describes his business as a start-up and is busy transforming the family vineyards, built over roman ruins, into one of the regions most advanced production facilities.
Eyeing the multitude of cutlery and wine glasses adorning the substantial linen covered table at Cozinha do Convento, an elegant restaurant in an ancient monastery leaning over the Minho River, I figured we were in for a treat. For the next three and a half hours, I didn’t move from my seat, take notes, hail a waiter, or want for anything. And after the last espresso had been served and the final brandy savored, I realized that I’d been shown what Portuguese hospitality boils down to: good food, fine wine, and the sheer joy of sharing a meal.
