Two fabulous days in Lisbon

The Romans called it Felicitas Julia, a city so blessed it deserved Julius Caesar’s protection. Those blessings endure: a mild climate, a deep river that flows serenely to the sea, a natural harbor that shelters ships from Atlantic storms, and hills that reach for the sky.

In 1620, Friar Nicolau de Oliveira wrote that Lisbon, like Rome, has seven hills. In truth, there are only three major elevations: the castle hill, Graça, and Bairro Alto. But in spirit, he was right: the streets rise and fall so much that, in the early 20th century, trams and elevators were built to help residents get around.

First Day

Begin your visit at St. George’s Castle. In the twelfth century, most of Lisbon lay within its walls. Below lies Alfama, whose Arabic name survived the city’s conquest by Portugal’s first king, Dom Afonso Henriques, in 1147. According to legend, a knight called Martim Moniz sacrificed his life, wedging his body in the castle gate so his fellow soldiers could break through. A square at the foot of the hill bears his name.

By the eighteenth century, Alfama was a poor neighborhood. The wealthy had relocated to Baixa, Bairro Alto, and Chiado. The 1755 earthquake devastated much of Lisbon but spared Alfama, a survival some interpreted as divine justice.

It is easy to get lost in Alfama’s winding streets lined with cobblestones, tile facades, and marble thresholds. A simple rule will help you find your way: uphill leads to the castle, downhill to the city center. 

From the castle walls, the Tagus River dominates the horizon. Below lies Terreiro do Paço, the courtyard of the royal palace destroyed by the earthquake.  Squint and you might imagine Baroque carriages arriving with courtiers seeking the king’s favor.

For a leisurely lunch, walk toward the Pantheon, a monumental church whose construction spanned more than three centuries. Nearby, Solo, inside the Santa Clara 1738 hotel, offers refined Portuguese cuisine made with the finest ingredients and served in an elegant setting. 

After lunch, continue to Terreiro do Paço. At the river’s edge stands Cais das Colunas, the dock marked by two marble pillars where visitors once arrived by ship. Before air travel, this was Lisbon’s grand entrance. In the center of the square, the equestrian statue of King Dom José I greets you.

Walk toward the triumphal arch at the entrance of Augusta Street, named for one of the king’s daughters. You can take an elevator to the top for superb views. To the west stretches the Tagus River; to the east lies the orderly grid of the Baixa district, built after the earthquake under the direction of the king’s prime minister, the Marquis of Pombal. 

The streets were organized by trade. In Rua do Ouro and Rua da Prata (Gold and Silver Streets), jewelers worked the precious metals arriving from Brazil. Merchants on Rua dos Fanqueiros sold woolen cloth, while Rua dos Correeiros specialized in leather equipment for horses and carriages. 

From there, walk to Rossio. On the way, stop at Largo de São Domingos to savor a glass of ginjinha, the sweet cherry liqueur beloved by poet Fernando Pessoa

Next, climb to Chiado for a pastel de nata at Manteigaria, where the crust is perfectly crisp and the custard delicately perfumed with lemon. Eat only one. Then cross to the Hotel do Bairro Alto terrace for a second. Try not to let the sweeping view cloud your judgment: which pastry wins your favor? The terrace is a wonderful place to rest before dinner. We include a list of restaurant suggestions below.

After dark, nothing expresses Lisbon’s soul like fado. Dressed in black, singers are accompanied by classical and Portuguese guitars, the latter a 12-string instrument with a distinctive mournful sound. Out of respect for the music, the audience is asked to remain silent. The singers’ voices hover between notes, producing pitches that a piano cannot play. They slow or quicken the tempo, confident that the musicians will follow. We are especially fond of the young fadista Beatriz Felício. If she is performing, don’t miss her.

Second day

Start the day at the Time Out market. Many come for a quick meal, but you’re here to visit the adjacent farmers’ market. Browse the seasonal fruits and vegetables on display, then stop by the fish stall, which showcases some of the world’s freshest fish. 

If you need refreshment, Bar da Odete offers a wonderful range of wines by the glass, curated by enologist Frederico Vilar Gomes. You can buy some of these wines at Garrafeira Nacional, a shop inside the market.

Continue toward Belém to visit the Belém Tower, an ornate fortress built to defend Lisbon from pirates, yet making the city even more alluring. Before the 1755 earthquake, the tower stood in the middle of the river rather than near the shore.

To the south stands the Monument to the Discoveries, a procession of stone figures led by Prince Henry the Navigator. Beginning in the 1420s, Portuguese sailors departed from Restelo into the unknown in ships called caravels, which, for the first time, could tack to sail against the wind. 

In his epic poem Os Lusíadas, Luís Vaz de Camões imagines an old man on the shore warning that the quest for glory would bring suffering rather than triumph. In material terms, the discoveries were an extraordinary success. Vasco da Gama reached India, opening a sea route for the spice trade. Cabral reached Brazil, and ships soon returned to Lisbon laden first with brazilwood and, later, with gold. Yet these riches came at a terrible human cost. Many sailors perished in shipwrecks or from diseases, especially scurvy, caused by months at sea without fresh provisions, living on little more than hard biscuit.

Just to the east rises the magnificent Jerónimos Monastery, built with the wealth of the maritime empire. Its Manueline architecture blends late Gothic style with nautical motifs. Inside are the tombs of kings and queens, as well as Vasco da Gama and Luís Vaz de Camões.

To the north is the Cultural Center of Belém, a modern art complex built from stone from the same quarry as the monastery. Its concerts and exhibitions are worth checking out.

If you crave grilled fish, the modest O Último Porto, open only for lunch and patronized mostly by locals, serves fresh fish grilled to perfection. Robalo is always a great choice, and the mullets are divine.  

Skip dessert. You must return to Belém for the city’s most famous custard, the Pastel de Belém. The bakery has produced them since 1837, using a secret recipe shared by monks after the dissolution of the religious orders in 1834. Enjoy one warm pastry dusted with cinnamon, a fragrant echo of the spice trade that enriched Portugal. Now that you have tasted the city’s most celebrated pasteis de nata, which is your favorite? 

End the day at MAAT, the Museum of Art, Architecture and Technology. It offers interesting exhibitions and a roof that is one of the finest places to watch the sunset in Lisbon. As the sun sinks into the Atlantic, Lisbon’s hills glow amber, the color of the gold that once made it rich.

Here are some practical suggestions

Where to stay

Our favorite place to stay in Lisbon is Santa Clara 1728, a small hotel that exudes tranquility and elegance. It is part of Silent Living, a unique collection of hotels designed to help guests reconnect with place and nature.

The Pestana Palace, built around an early-20th-century palace, is another favorite. Set away from the center and surrounded by gardens, it offers a peaceful respite from the city’s bustle.

The Ritz Four Seasons is a mid-century modern landmark that provides classic old-world luxury.

Hotel do Bairro Alto, in the heart of Chiado, combines a central location with excellent service.

Where to eat

Not long ago, one could walk into almost any restaurant and enjoy an honest, modestly priced meal of local food and wine. Today, many restaurants cater primarily to tourists. To taste authentic cuisine, you need guidance, but rest assured, we’re here to provide it.

Lisbon’s fine-dining scene is vibrant. Belcanto, led by José Avillez, has elevated Portuguese cuisine while staying true to its roots. His recent book on Portuguese cuisine makes a wonderful gift for a gourmet friend. Marlene, by chef Marlene Vieira, reinterprets tradition with imagination and finesse. Loco, led by chef Alexandre Silva, offers exuberantly creative dishes made with local ingredients.

Beyond the Michelin constellation, many excellent restaurants await discovery. We mentioned two of our favorites in the main text. Solo offers a lunch menu where each dish is crafted from pristine organic ingredients sourced from Casa no Tempo. Último Porto is a rustic restaurant known for perfectly grilled fish.

Zun Zum, Marlene Vieira’s bistro, showcases superb Portuguese ingredients prepared with inventiveness. Try their signature dish: “filhoses de berbigão,” large cockles served on star-shaped fried dough filled with a cream made from cockle broth, coriander, and lemon.

For seafood, Cervejaria Ramiro remains our top choice. It is noisy and crowded, but it is worth it. Reservations are not accepted, so arrive early. Do not miss the clams à Bulhão Pato, a classic of Portuguese cuisine.

Tasca da Esquina, by Vítor Sobral, consistently serves excellent interpretations of traditional dishes.

Canalha offers impeccable seasonal ingredients, prepared with precision. This acclaimed bistro is led by chef João Rodrigues, who left his Michelin stars behind to cook simple, deeply satisfying food. 

Casa Tradição offers inventive takes on classic recipes by Samuel Mota, a chef who trained at Belcanto.

Our favorite vegetarian restaurant is Touta, led by Lebanese chef Cynthia Bitar.

Other favorites include Belmiro (excellent empadas and rice dishes), Salsa e Coentros, and Magano.

For wine lovers, we recommend a visit to Quinta de Chocapalha, a superb producer near Lisbon.

Museums

The Calouste Gulbenkian Museum has one of the world’s finest private art collections, reflecting the founder’s motto: “only the best.” A visit is a journey spanning 5,000 years of human creativity. Among the collection’s highlights is Almada Negreiros’ portrait of the poet Fernando Pessoa.

Two major museums are currently closed for renovations. The Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga preserves Portugal’s most important collection of paintings, sculptures, and decorative arts. Housed in a former convent, Museu Nacional do Azulejo offers a collection of five centuries of Portuguese tile art, including a breathtaking panoramic panel of the city before the 1755 earthquake.

Shopping

We love Vista Alegre, a company that has produced beautiful porcelain since 1824. Its stores are spread throughout the city, with the most iconic located in Chiado. Nearby is Cutipol, a producer of elegant cutlery.

A Vida Portuguesa offers a carefully curated selection of artisanal products made with exceptional craftsmanship. 

Reverso is a jewelry gallery featuring whimsical, elegant modern pieces.

Activities for kids

A visit to Lisbon’s outstanding Oceanarium is a perfect activity not only for kids but for anyone interested in the mysteries of the ocean and the protection of marine ecosystems.

Cruising the Tagus River aboard Santa Fé, a beautifully restored vintage boat, is one of the best ways to see the city. 

Jezzus is a great place for pizza, a meal that kids are likely to enjoy.

Day trips

There are several historical towns on the outskirts of Lisbon that are well worth visiting. Sintra, once the summer residence of the Portuguese kings, is a fairy-tale village crowned by a Moorish castle and dotted with several enchanting palaces. Queluz offers a graceful palace with elegant gardens inspired by Versailles.

Mafra stands on a grander scale. This vast convent, built with the wealth of Portugal’s maritime empire, houses one of the world’s most beautiful libraries. The convent’s construction inspired José Saramago’s celebrated novel Baltasar and Blimunda, published in 1982—a book that will enrich any visit to Mafra.

And then there is Óbidos, a perfectly preserved medieval town, offered by King Dom Dinis to his bride, Isabel of Aragon.

Luís Pato’s precious inheritance

In 1964, João Pato, father of the iconic Bairrada winemaker Luís Pato, installed a new piece of equipment at his winery in the village of Amoreira da Gândara: a rectifying chamber fitted to the traditional copper alembic. It enabled him to distill, with unusual precision, wine made from Baga, Bairrada’s emblematic red grape.

Distillation is, at its core, an act of selection. The wine is heated so that alcohol and aromatic compounds vaporize, then condensed back into liquid. But not all that emerges is equal. The first flow is harsh and volatile, the last coarse and heavy. Only the middle portion, known as the “heart,” carries purity, balance, and the true character of the wine. João entrusted the slow, exacting work to his right-hand man, Avelino Ribeiro, who distilled the wine twice, each time keeping only the heart.

João produced brandy between 1965 and 1985, the year before he died. The spirit was first aged in Portuguese chestnut casks and later transferred to used Port barrels, long favored for maturing fine brandies. João left the barrels as an inheritance for his son.  

In the 1990s, Luís moved the brandy into barrels that had previously held his most celebrated wines — Pé Franco Quinta do Ribeirinho, Vinha Pan, and Vinha Barrosa — layering the spirit with further echoes of Bairrada’s finest terroirs.

Half a century after the first distillation, Luís released only a handful of bottles. Each feels like an heirloom: an elegant black porcelain vessel resting inside a handmade wooden box, the lid closing with the soft click of a magnet, as if sealing a secret.

Winemakers whimsically call the liquid that evaporates during aging the angel’s share. In this case, the angels were clearly thirsty. Of every six liters laid down fifty years ago, barely enough is left today to fill a single 700-milliliter bottle. But what remains is the essence: flavors and aromas deepened and refined by time.

In the glass, the brandy glows deep amber. Its aroma rises with quiet confidence, warm wood, dried fruit, and a hint of smoke. On the palate, it is rich and profound, inviting slow, reverent sipping.

Sommeliers who have tasted it often describe it as incomparable, a fitting judgment for a brandy that is part of Bairrada’s history.

Monte da Raposinha

Ângelo Ataíde, a judge passionate about wine, decided to plant a vineyard on the Alentejo estate his wife, Rosário, had inherited. Local farmers advised him against it. The site, in a valley near the Montargil dam, has a humid microclimate where downy and powdery mildew thrive. Undeterred, the judge planted the first vines in 2000.

Rosário’s father used to call her raposinha (little fox). When foxes began strolling through the young vines at dusk, Ângelo and Rosário renamed the farm Monte da Raposinha.

Today, the estate is in the hands of the next generation: Rosário’s son, João, oversees the business, while his wife, Paula, leads viticulture and enology.

João followed the family tradition and studied law, but he never took to office life. He preferred the freedom of the open fields.

Paula’s father, a doctor fascinated by wine, invited her as a child to smell different wines and describe their aromas. She grew up loving animals and plants, and later studied agronomy in Lisbon, specializing in viticulture. As a student, she often passed Monte da Raposinha on her way to her grandmother’s house, sometimes stopping to buy a few bottles whose distinctive character intrigued her.

She met João through mutual friends. They fell in love and married at Monte da Raposinha, which became their life’s project. João and Paula do nearly everything themselves: pruning and harvesting, fermenting and aging, bottling and labeling.

Paula explains how the morning dew brings freshness to this otherwise hot region, cooling the grapes and slowing maturation. To preserve the fruit’s character, she relies entirely on the wild yeasts that live on the grape skins, rather than adding commercial strains. The result is less predictable, but truer to the vineyards.

They practice regenerative, organic farming, no small challenge in such a humid climate. The vines are protected with the traditional Bordeaux mixture, a solution of copper sulfate, lime, and water. They also spray infusions of acacia, nettle, and willow. In difficult years, João and Paula accept losses; in 2025, they lost 80 percent of their production.

And what do they get in return? “A land that is alive,” Paula says. She speaks passionately about the worms in the soil, the legumes that fix nitrogen, the birds and bees that share the vineyard. Her affection for these creatures runs so deep that she asked designer Francisco Eduardo to include them on the wine labels.

The estate has a guest house with expansive views over the fields and an inviting swimming pool. Staying there is the best way to understand their work: mornings in the vines, afternoons in the cellar, evenings around the table, enjoying the wines born from their soil.

For João and Paula, the health of the land, the authenticity of place, and the singular voice of their wines come first. 

Their rosé, made from Touriga Nacional, is bright and expressive, all freshness and immediacy. The white reserve draws its body from Viosinho, ripened under the generous Alentejo sun, while Arinto and Esgana Cão lend tension and acidity. The blend carries delicate aromatics and a long, persistent finish that both cleanses and lingers. The extraordinary Maria Antonieta, named in homage to João’s great-grandmother, is made from Touriga Nacional grown on a small plot with soil made from river stones.

Monte da Raposinha proves that great wines can come from improbable places, but only for those with the courage and endurance to care for them.

Monte da Raposinha is located at Estrada do Couço, S/N. 7425-144 Montargil. Click here for their website.

Letter to a Young Douro Farmer

At the beginning of the last century, the German poet Rainer Maria Rilke wrote a series of letters to a young man who aspired to become a poet, urging patience, humility, and trust in the slow ripening of ideas.

In that spirit, we invited viticulturist António Magalhães to write a letter to a young Douro farmer. This eighth masterclass takes that form.

Hand-built vineyard hedges

Spontaneous vegetation

Planting a new vineyard

Olive trees surrounding the vines

Building terraces

Narrow terraces

Fall in Quinta de Vargellas

Harvesting grapes

Working in the Douro vineyards

Workers climbing a escada salta cão (dog jumper ladder).

In this seventh lecture with viticulturist António Magalhães, we explore the hard work behind every bottle of Douro wine. The region’s steep, mountainous slopes make mechanization difficult, so much of the labor is still done by hand. Yet it is precisely this human touch that produces great wines: knowing how to prune and tend each vine, which grapes to harvest, and which to leave behind.

When António was a boy, he loved to play with the children of the agricultural workers and was often invited to share their simple meals. Because their homes had no electricity, supper was served late in the afternoon to take advantage of the last light of day.

The food was cooked in earthenware and cast-iron pots over the same hearth that warmed the house during the cold Douro winters. The walls were stained with soot from countless fires. At the table, the adults spoke freely in front of António, assuming that, as a child, he would not understand their conversations. But he listened intently.

He heard how hard their lives were. He heard their worries: how to stretch meager wages, how the women, already burdened with cooking, cleaning, and feeding the animals, took poorly paid part-time jobs to earn a little extra money. He heard their modest dreams: that all their children would finish primary school, that the most gifted might apprentice as carpenters, plumbers, or cabinetmakers, and escape the harsh life of the vineyards.

At the end of supper, António returned to his family home, the smell of smoke clinging to his clothes. He liked it, but his parents made him bathe and then sit down to a second dinner in the dining room, lit by the luxurious glow of incandescent bulbs. Here again, he listened to the conversations of the grown-ups. These reflected fewer worries and higher aspirations: the children were expected to attend university and pursue prestigious careers, becoming lawyers, doctors, or engineers.

Workers gathered at the Pinhão train station, early 20th century.

The parents of António’s childhood friends worked year-round on the large Douro estates. It was mostly at harvest time that the farms hired temporary workers, called rogas. They were gathered by a rogador and brought to Régua or Pinhão by train or bus. From there, they walked the long, narrow roads that led to the farms.

Most came from the high plateaus of Trás-os-Montes, where corn had been grown since the sixteenth century. For extra sustenance, they carried cornbread, along with a knife to cut it and a fork for their meals. At night, they slept in buildings called cardanhos, which were divided in half by a wooden wall. The men slept on one side and the women on the other. There was a large common blanket for each group.

The rogas worked twelve hours a day for two weeks to earn some extra money that would last them the rest of the year and perhaps allow them to buy a small plot of land. Those who could carried the heavy baskets of grapes, for this work paid three times as much as harvesting. All this toil is memorably described in Miguel Torga’s 1945 novel Grape Harvest.

Over the years, António came to understand the rhythm of vineyard life. Work starts at sunrise. In winter, it begins at first light to make the most of the day. In summer, the sun rises much earlier, and work also begins earlier, to escape the afternoon heat.

Vineyard labor is physically demanding. Workers leave for the fields fasting and pause around 9 a.m. for a light snack, usually a sandwich, to avoid feeling lightheaded. Lunch is the first hot meal of the day, often a vegetable broth eaten from a bowl: first, the vegetables are eaten with a fork, then the broth is drunk. In summer, there is no afternoon work, and heavy midday meals are avoided because of the heat.

The Douro was a poor region, so the food was simple and nothing was wasted. Rye and corn bread were always present, but wheat bread was rare. Pasta, potatoes, and beans were staples.

During the week, people relied on sausages such as chouriço and alheira, and on two essential fish: cod, prepared in countless ways, and sardines, eaten fresh or preserved in salt, a tradition that has largely vanished. Vegetables were seasonal: cabbages in winter, plump Douro tomatoes in summer, cut in half and seasoned with salt and raw onion. Workers helped themselves to the fruit of the trees, discarding the seeds at random and inadvertently planting new trees in the most unexpected places.

As a small bonus, the workers received either a light, low-alcohol wine or água-pé, the latter made by adding water to the pressed grape pomace and letting it ferment again. Some was drunk at lunch, and it usually accompanied dinner.

Sunday was a day of rest. The man shaved, a small indulgence at a time when blades were expensive. Lunch included meat (often tripe, chicken, or mutton) and their best wine, for there was no farm work in the afternoon.

Every family aspired to raise a pig for the annual slaughter, to make sausages and salted meats that could be consumed throughout the year. Those without the means or a pigsty raised one jointly with the estate owners they worked for, trading labor for shelter and the purchase of the animal. One advantage of the pig was that it did not compete with humans for food: it lived on fallen fruit and broth made from kitchen scraps, wilted vegetables.

This way of life began to unravel in the 1990s, as workers aged and their children turned away from agriculture. Large farms began to rely year-round mostly on contractors who supply temporary labor. These workers, however, have neither the experience nor the commitment of the full-time hands.

António stresses the importance of the people who work year-round on the farms of the Douro Valley. Working other people’s land is exhausting and offers little recognition. At the same time, many workers own a small vineyard. Tending that land is a source of pride and quiet joy. It is the same work, but it carries a different meaning.

These vineyards have a human scale, with one, or at most two hectares that can be cared for by a farmer and their family. These small farms, ubiquitous throughout the valley, are key to preserving and improving the spectacular landscape, maintaining the fruit trees planted among the vines and the olive trees that surround them. The farmers who tend these vines are also guardians of a precious genetic legacy, preserving the different grape varieties that evolved through careful human selection over the years.

The way these vineyards are cared for reveals a profound respect for nature and the social fabric of the Douro. There is a transmission of skills from generation to generation, enriched by the wisdom and experience accumulated over time. This inheritance is valuable not just to them but also for the work they do on the large farms.

António thinks that the Douro needs to create conditions so that a new generation can choose to work in agriculture, supplying skilled labor to the large farms and tending their own human-scale vineyards. That means using technology to make the work easier: drones can be used to treat vines, and new machines can be designed and adapted to the Douro’s vineyards, as they have been in Champagne and the Mosel.

The recognition of the olive oil produced by the olival de bordadura, the trees surrounding the vines, as a product with protected designation of origin is another way to increase the income and status of Douro growers. The success of enotourism is an essential pillar of the region’s future.

Olival de Bordadura, olive trees bordering the vines.

But, above all, it is key to increase the value of the grapes. The region was designed to produce its prized wine, Port. Later came another fortified wine, the Moscatel de Favaios, and, in recent decades, the DOC Douro table wines. António supports the creation of another category, the analogue of vin de pays in France: a simple wine for local consumption. He proposes calling it Vinho de Ramo, an old name for tavern wine, after the branch (ramo) once placed by the door to signal that wine was for sale.

The view from António’s Vinha da Porta in Cidadelhe.


At the end of last year, António, who comes from a family of vineyard owners but inherited no land, bought Vinha da Porta, a human-scale vineyard in the small village of Cidadelhe, near Régua, in Baixo Corgo with sweeping views of the Marão mountains. He now rises with the sun to work in his vineyard. Will he produce Port wine, DOC Douro, or a simple Vinho de Ramo? Whatever it is, we cannot wait to taste it.

Each grape in its place

In our sixth lecture with viticulturist António Magalhães, we turn to a group of unloved grape varieties that are often dismissed, yet fully capable of producing great wines when planted and farmed wisely 

Tinta Roriz

For over thirty years, António met each August with David Guimaraens, head winemaker at Taylor Fladgate. Together, they assessed the evolution of the two grapes most critical to the Vintage Ports of Fonseca Guimarens: Touriga Francesa and Tinta Roriz. António grew to admire Tinta Roriz’s distinctive qualities and came to reject its poor reputation. Tinta Roriz may well be the Douro’s most misunderstood grape.

Tempranillo arrived in the Douro from Spain and was initially called Aragonez, the name it still bears in other Portuguese regions. By the late nineteenth century, it became known as Tinta Roriz, reflecting the distinct identity it had acquired in the Douro.

Tinta Roriz

It plays a crucial agronomic role: its disease sensitivity makes it a sentinel vine, offering early warning of downy and powdery mildew, the green leafhopper, and maromba (a boron deficiency common in the Douro).

Tinta Roriz is one of the grapes farmers call paga dívidas (“debt payer”) because it can produce large, heavy bunches, particularly in years of abundant rain. Many enologists, however, associate the grape with large, watery berries that yield thin, forgettable wines. And yet Tinta Roriz plays a starring role in some of the Douro’s greatest wines. Why? There are three reasons.

First, lineage. The finest examples of Tinta Roriz come from old vines, whose cuttings far outperform modern clones.

Second, site. Tinta Roriz must be planted in poor soils and in sites with good sun exposure and sufficient airflow to protect it against mildew and oidium. 

Third, rootstock choice. The adoption of highly productive rootstocks, like the 99 Richter, rather than those better suited to the Douro terroir, notably the Rupestris du Lot, boosted yields at the expense of quality.

So why has Tinta Roriz so often disappointed? Many of today’s vineyards date from the late 1980s and early 1990s, when mechanization reshaped the Douro. Wide terraces were carved into the hillsides, and vines were planted at low density to accommodate tractors. To offset that lower density, growers favored productive varieties like Tinta Roriz. They chose high-yielding clones, fertile soils, and vigorous rootstocks. In some cases, they also replaced dry farming with irrigation, sacrificing deep root systems and the hydric stress that concentrates flavor. It is hardly surprising that the grape’s reputation suffered.

And yet, in the right hands, Tinta Roriz shines. The iconic Pintas, produced by Sandra Tavares da Silva and Jorge Serôdio Borges and made from more than forty grape varieties, contains 10–15 percent Tinta Roriz.

Tinta Barroca

This grape plays a secondary but essential role in Port blends. It is present in virtually all vineyards planted before the mid-1980s. Later plantings, no longer based on traditional field blends, sometimes exclude it—to their loss. 

Because it is usually part of a blend, Tinta Barroca dwells in relative obscurity. Yet it has always had its champions. José António Rosas, the renowned winemaker of Ramos Pinto, was a great admirer.

Tinta Barroca between two vines of Touriga Francesa

Bruce Guimaraens, the larger-than-life British winemaker of Fonseca Guimaraens, also held it in special esteem. Struggling with the two Rs, he called it “Baroca.” His son David shares his father’s appreciation for the grape but pronounces “Barroca” like a proper Portuguese.

It is an early-ripening variety, and the first impression when tasting the berries is its candy-like sweetness. Like Malvasia Fina, the berries are particularly delicious when they are about to turn into raisins. At that moment, they reach the upper limit of ripeness acceptable for Port.

Like Touriga Francesa, Tinta Barroca is an offspring of Mourisco Tinto and Touriga Nacional. António suspects that it may be the modern name for the pre-phylloxera variety Boca de Mina (“mouth of the mine”), a name that hints at its need for freshness. The Baron of Forrester considered Boca de Mina “the most delicious,” and João Cunha Seixas, a prominent viticulturist,  praised it in his “Guide for the Douro Farmer,” published in 1895. 

Tinta Barroca is highly sensitive to heat. This attribute was largely forgotten in the vineyards planted in the late 1980s and 1990s, when it was often placed in sites with excessive sun exposure. As a result, the rachis cooks and the berries shrivel and mummify. You can almost hear the vines pleading, “Take me out of here.”

Tinta Barroca in the Fall

Barroca is often accused of being ill-suited to a warmer climate. Yet in the right site, the vine can thrive and produce beautiful wines. One striking example is at Quinta do Cruzeiro in Vale de Mendiz, where Tinta Barroca dominates a vineyard called Patamares do Norte (northern terraces), a name that signals the vineyard’s favorable north-facing exposure, which suits the grape so well.

Tinta Barroca and Tinto Cão are complementary varieties. Every year, António and David Guimaraens faced the difficult yet enticing challenge of finding their ideal proportions for Port.

Tinto Cão

Tinto Cão is often dismissed for lacking deep color, opulence, and high alcohol. Yet there is a long tradition of appreciation for this variety. In his Agricultural Memoirs of 1790, Francisco Rebello da Fonseca praised it, noting that “amadura bem, não seca nem apodrece”—it ripens well, without shriveling or rotting. He also mentions wine made from Tinto Cão by Manuel Vaz de Carvalho that was “considered superior to all his others and to those of the surrounding area.” 

This grape has long been a quiet ally in difficult years. For António and David Guimaraens, Tinto Cão is a joker in the deck, saving great Ports in dry vintages such as 2009, 2011, and 2017. 

Tinto Cão

It produces small berries with thick skins, yielding wines with natural acidity, elegant tannins, and remarkable aging potential. It may disappoint in cool years, but it shines in warm ones. 

Tinto Cão thrives in vines with a south-westerly exposure, at altitudes below 300-350 metres.  Above all, it demands deep soils to allow the grapes to ripen under a scorching sun.

If Francisco Rebello da Fonseca were alive today, he would relish seeing Tinto Cão escape the confines of Port wine. An increasing number of Douro estates, including La Rosa and Noval, are making delightful table wines exclusively from Tinto Cão. Luisa Borges, the winemaker and owner of the Vieira de Sousa estate, is especially fond of wines made from this variety.

In Vintage Ports from Taylor Fladgate and Fonseca Guimaraens, Tinto Cão remains a secondary but essential variety. 

António keeps a mental list of grapes best equipped to help the Douro thrive in a warmer climate. At the top of that list is Tinto Cão.

Tinta Amarela

Tinta Amarela is a striking vine year-round and among the last to shed its leaves in autumn. Yet it is finicky: its dense bunches are vulnerable to heat and rain, which can trigger sour rot, as damaged berries are colonized by yeasts and acetic bacteria, leading to vinegar-like spoilage.

Site selection is everything. An east-facing exposure is generally ideal. Below the mid-slope line, row orientation becomes decisive, as it governs how much sun the clusters receive: rows facing east protect grapes from harsh heat, while those facing west leave them overexposed.

Tinta Amarela during véraison

The vine can survive hot summers in the arid Douro Superior, but the grapes vanish. Farmers say, “the vines drank the grapes.”

Tinta Amarela appears in modest quantities in many old vineyards, particularly in Baixo Corgo, and is therefore most often found in blends. Single-varietal wines are rare.

It plays a major role in Quinta do Crasto’s celebrated Maria Teresa. Drawn from a field blend of centenarian vines planted around 1906 on low-altitude, east-facing terraces along the Douro River, the wine owes its distinctive character to afternoon shade that tempers the heat.

Tinta da Barca

Tinta da Barca is, like Touriga Francesa, a cross between Mourisco Tinto and Touriga Nacional. Yet while Touriga Francesa is widely planted and well known, Tinta da Barca remains largely obscure.

David Guimaraens is a devoted advocate of the grape, which plays a quiet but crucial role in the great Vintage Ports of Quinta de Vargellas. The fruit comes from the Pulverinho vineyard, planted in 1927 with both Touriga Francesa and Tinta da Barca.

António believes the best introduction to Tinta da Barca is a wonderful monovarietal table wine made by Ramos Pinto in 2016, a challenging year marked by heat and an unusual outbreak of downy mildew, which nonetheless yielded both classic Vintage Ports and outstanding table wines. It has been one of his favorites ever since.

Malvasia Fina

António knows, like the palm of his hand, remarkable Malvasia Fina vineyards across all three Douro subregions: Baixo Corgo, Cima Corgo, and Douro Superior. When planting this grape, one factor matters above all others: altitude. For Port wines, the ideal locations lie above 350–400 meters; for table wines, between 500 and 600 meters.

Malvasia Fina plays an indispensable role in several outstanding white Ports, including Fonseca Guimaraens’ Siroco and Taylor Fladgate’s Chip Dry, as well as in Adriano Ramos Pinto Finest White Reserve, a delightful sweet white Port.

In terms of table wines, António likes the white Reserva from Quinta do Cume in Provesende—a wonderful blend led by Malvasia Fina, with Rabigato, Viosinho, and Gouveio in supporting roles.

For those eager to discover how expressive the grape can be, António recommends tasting the Quinta do Bucheiro Malvasia Fina Reserva made by Dias Teixeira, an octogenarian and former enologist at Borges Port Wine, who knows Malvasia Fina’s secrets and charms.

Malvasia Fina

After our lecture, António had lunch at a seafood restaurant and let the sommelier select the wine. The choice was excellent: a Viosinho from D. Graça. When António asked which Malvasia Fina wines the sommelier would recommend, the reply was blunt: “I don’t like that grape variety.” Malvasia remains, clearly, misunderstood.

Each grape in its place

António teaches a lesson that should not be forgotten: grape varieties cannot simply be uprooted from one place and expected to thrive elsewhere. Each has a place where it speaks clearly. Many of the Douro’s unloved grapes were simply misplaced. Put them back where they belong, farm them with respect, and they repay the favor with wines of character, balance, and beauty.

On the way to Viseu

Tile panel, Rossio, 1931

Many of those who visit Portugal gravitate toward places that increasingly offer an international experience, lightly seasoned with local color. The surest way to gain a deeper sense of the country is to spend time in the small towns and villages outside the main tourist centers.

One such place is Viseu, our birthplace.

Granite quarried nearby paves its streets and lines its façades, giving the city a quiet, understated presence, echoed in the character of its residents.

Viriato’s statue

Viseu first gained renown in the 2nd century BCE as a stronghold of resistance to Roman expansion. Viriato, leader of a loose network of tribes known as the Lusitanos, waged a remarkably effective guerrilla war against Rome. The Romans prevailed only after bribing three of his companions to assassinate him in his sleep in 139 BCE. When the murderers claimed their reward, they were dismissed with the words: Roma traditoribus non praemiat (Rome does not reward traitors). 

The Lusitanos were defeated, yet Portugal later adopted them as symbolic ancestors, and Lusitano became a synonym for Portuguese. In that sense, Viriato won the war.

It is therefore fitting to begin a visit at the Cava do Viriato, where a statue of the warrior stands atop a rock, surrounded by his fierce companions. From here, you can take a stroll on a boardwalk that offers sweeping views of the city.

Dom Duarte’s window

Next, walk uphill to Rua Direita, a narrow street built in Roman times, now lined with small, traditional shops. Turn onto Rua Dom Duarte, where you’ll see a building with a window adorned with ropes and armillary spheres. Legend has it that King Dom Duarte, who ruled Portugal from 1433 to 1438, was born there. Continue up the street, and you’ll find his statue. 

Just around the corner stands the 12th-century cathedral, built in the Romanesque style and later enriched with Gothic, Manueline, Renaissance, and Mannerist elements.

Viseu Catedral

On the same square rise the Baroque Igreja da Misericórdia and the Grão Vasco Museum, home to the finest works of Portugal’s greatest Renaissance painter.

Misericórdia church

From Rua do Adro, continue to Largo Pintor Gata and head south along Rua Nunes de Carvalho until you reach Rossio, the city’s central plaza. Shaded by old linden trees, it is surrounded by tile panels depicting rural life: shepherds from the nearby Estrela Mountain and farmers arriving in Viseu to sell their goods. 

Foremost among those products is wine. Viseu lies at the heart of the Dão, one of Portugal’s most important wine regions. While most Dão wines are blends, two grapes stand out: the red Touriga Nacional and the white EncruzadoTouriga Nacional is emblematic of the Douro Valley, but its name likely comes from Tourigo, a village near Viseu. In the Dão’s granite soils, the grape produces elegant, floral wines. Encruzado is prized for its combination of texture, depth, and restraint. You can enjoy a tasting of Dão wines at Solar do Vinho do Dão, a 12th-century episcopal palace located in Fontelo, a park with ancient trees that is home to a flock of peacocks.

Another emblematic product is queijo da serra, made from sheep’s milk in the nearby Estrela Mountains. Our favorite cheese shop is Celeiro dos Sonhos, on Avenida Capitão Silva Pereira. Their selection ranges from soft, spoonable cheeses to cured versions finished with olive oil and paprika, as well as requeijão. All are worth trying.

When it comes to restaurants, we always return to two longtime favorites. O Cortiço, on a narrow street named after the 19th-century fado singer Augusto Hilário, is famed for its arroz de carqueja (wild broom rice). This dish is so intriguing that Maria de Lurdes Modesto, the chef who codified Portuguese cuisine, came here repeatedly to perfect her own version. On the outskirts of town, Quinta da Magarenha serves local classics such as rojões (pan-fried marinated pork) and veal slowly cooked in a clay pot.

For coffee and pastries, our current favorite is Lobo, on Rua Alexandre Lobo. It was recently taken over by the Oliveira family, long known for their farturas (sweet strips of fried dough) sold at fairs across Portugal. Don’t miss the Viriato, a V-shaped pastry created in homage to the legendary figure, made from baker’s dough, topped with grated coconut, and generously filled with silky pastry cream.

For a stay, the Pousada de Viseu, housed in a building dating back to 1793, offers great comfort and beautiful views over the city.

There is an old song titled “Indo eu, indo eu, a caminho de Viseu,” about going to Viseu and finding love along the way. Its lyrics read:

“As I walk, as I walk, on the way to Viseu,

I met my one true love—oh my Lord, here I go.”

We leave you with an instrumental version of the tune, with apologies to Michel Giacometti and Fernando Lopes-Graça, whose work preserved Portugal’s traditional melodies, for taking a few liberties along the way.

With this song, we wish you a blissful New Year—one that, we hope, leads you to Viseu.

The Régua farmers’ market 

If you’re a foodie, few pleasures in Portugal rival a visit to a farmers’ market. On the Saturday before Christmas, we stopped by the market in Régua, and it was a delight.

The town’s full name is Peso da Régua. Peso, meaning “weight,” likely refers to the role the town assumed after the Marquis of Pombal demarcated the Douro region in 1756: a logistical hub where wine and other goods were weighed before beginning their journey downriver. Régua, meaning “ruler,” describes the way the town stretches along the banks of the Douro, long and narrow, following the river’s course.

Régua welcomes visitors through an elegant iron bridge, inaugurated in 1872, but much of the surrounding architecture fails to do justice to the valley’s natural beauty. Still, there is an undeniable authenticity to the place and to its people.

We went to the Régua market in search of a local delicacy called falachas, a sweet biscuit made from chestnut flour. We were told, regretfully, that these small culinary miracles appear at the market only on Wednesdays. But there were other blessings. Stalls overflowed with apples—including the celebrated Bravo de Esmolfe and a lesser-known variety called Porta da Loja. There were cabbages of many shapes and forms, piles of chestnuts, dried figs, and walnuts. At the center of the market, a large stall tempted passersby with sausages and cured hams (presuntos). Near the entrance, a baker displayed baskets filled to the brim with bread: loaves made from white or yellow corn, golden olive-oil breads, and bola de carne, bread generously stuffed with meat or sausage.

What makes the market special, though, are the vendors themselves, warm, genuine, and quietly persuasive. “Try our delicious figs,” says one. “We dust them lightly with white flour so they stay soft and don’t stick together.” “Taste these walnuts,” urges another vendor.  “They’re from a nearby farm. A woman’s been looking after the trees her whole life. She only gets about six hundred kilos, but they’re really great. We’re lucky to have them.”

In this holiday season, it is a rare gift to taste the fruits produced by people who devote their lives to caring for the land. We are fortunate to have them!

The Seasons of the Douro Valley

A view of Pinhão

In this fifth masterclass with viticulturist António Magalhães, we follow the seasons in the Douro Valley. The lecture brings to mind a famous passage from the Book of Ecclesiastes: “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.”

Each season brings its own tasks, anxieties, and rewards. Despite the vastness of the landscape, the work of tending vines remains a human craft, learned through experience and carried out with dirt under the nails and an eye on the sky.

António grew up with the notion that the agricultural year ran from November 1 to October 31. At Taylor Fladgate, where he worked for over three decades, the year was divided into quarters: dormancy from November to February, growth from March to June, and ripening from July to October.

This calendar aligns with the concept of growing degree days. Developed in the 1930s by Albert Winkler at the University of California, Davis, it links vine growth to cumulative temperatures above 10 °C over the growing season, conventionally defined as April 1 to October 31.

But António has been pondering what to do about October. Over the past few decades, most Douro grapes have been harvested by the end of September, with only a few straggling vineyards picked in the first days of October. This shift reflects climatic change and the Douro’s growing emphasis on table wines, known as DOC Douro. In the past, when all grapes were destined for Port, harvests came later to allow grapes to reach the deeper ripeness Port requires. Viticultural choices over recent decades have also contributed to earlier harvests, as growers planted fewer varieties, favored early-ripening grapes and rootstocks, and increased sun exposure.

António is therefore exploring a different viticultural calendar: dormancy from early October through the end of February, growth from early March through the end of June, and ripening from early July through the end of September. Uneven in length, these seasons are more closely attuned to the rhythms of nature as they now unfold.

The Dormancy Season

As soon as the grapes are harvested in September and early October, attention turns to the olive trees planted around the vineyards.

Picking olives

There is a natural complementarity between vines and olive trees. They draw water and nutrients from different soil depths, and their peak water needs occur at different times: vines in spring and early summer, olive trees in late summer and early autumn. Their distinct canopy structures mean they do not meaningfully compete for sunlight, and because their harvests follow one another, they do not compete for labor either.

Olive trees surounding the vineyard

In October, spontaneous vegetation awakens, washing the landscape in green. António likens the soil to a sideboard of drawers filled with seeds, opened selectively by the year’s weather. Fast-growing grasses help control erosion, while broad-leafed dicotyledons improve soil structure and biodiversity. Together, they form spontaneous mosaics in the fields, perhaps a model worth echoing in the vineyard, through field blends that create a mosaic of vines.

The vineyards are particularly spectacular in November. The leaves turn red and yellow, their rich palette reflecting the diversity of grape varieties. 

Fall in Vale de Mendiz

During this period, farmers pray for rain to fill what António calls the “water piggy bank.” Because most vines, especially in the Baixo and Cima Corgo, are not irrigated, rainfall during dormancy is crucial: about 400 to 500 millimeters of water must be stored over these five months. Once reserves are replenished, cold temperatures are welcome: they keep the vines fully dormant, prevent premature budbreak, slow metabolic activity, reduce disease pressure, and ensure a synchronized, healthy awakening in spring.

A rainy day at Quinta de Ventozelo

Cold weather is also valuable in the cellar. Winemakers say that the cold “closes the color of the wine.” Traditionally, Port spent its first winter in the Douro Valley before being shipped to Gaia. In the past, the river’s powerful winter flow made navigation too dangerous; even after the Douro was tamed, producers continued the practice, having found it beneficial.

The dormancy season is a time for reflection in the vineyard and the cellar—on the year just past and the one to come. In the Douro, people say that after the harvest, “the wine must be allowed to speak.” Judgment is never rushed; wines are tasted and assessed only in January and February of the following year. At that point, samples of the most recent harvest are sent to the lodges in Gaia, where they are tasted alongside wines from the harvest two years earlier. This tasting is the beginning of a momentous decision that winemakers will make in March or April: whether the wine, now in its second year, is declared Vintage.

The most important task of the dormancy season is pruning. In the Douro Valley, vines behave very differently from one another, so each must be pruned individually. For this reason, the simple, efficient cordon system is avoided in favor of spur and cane pruning, also known as Guyot pruning, a method used in the Douro Valley long before Jules Guyot popularized it in the nineteenth century. This pruning method promotes vine rejuvenation, a vital practice in the Douro Valley. 

Other winter tasks include maintaining the vineyards. Vines trained on vertical trellis systems require regular upkeep, and terrace walls must be repaired. In midwinter, dead vines are replaced, and new vineyards are planted.

The Growing Season

Vines grow from March to June. The first signs of phenological awakening are the flowering of Crepis spp, an herb with yellow blossoms that open only during the day, and a phenomenon known as “crying”: sap seeps from pruning cuts.

Crepis spp

Budbreak (abrolhamento) soon follows, as the dormant buds left after winter pruning open to produce tiny shoots and leaves. In Pinhão, at the heart of the Douro Valley, budbreak typically occurs around March 14 or 15.

Budbreak

During the growing season, about 200 millimeters of rain are needed to support shoot development, leaf expansion, and canopy formation. As temperatures rise, the vines enter flowering, a brief and delicate phase when tiny, almost invisible blossoms appear on the clusters. Cold, rain, or wind can disrupt pollination, reduce fertility, and lead to irregular crops. For all our technological advances, flowering cannot be hurried or protected; it remains entirely at the mercy of the elements.

Vine growth, Tinta Francisca

When flowering succeeds, fruit set follows—the moment when blossoms become tiny green grapes. This stage is fragile: poor weather can cause grape shatter, as flowers fall without forming berries, and a single gust of wind or cold front can reduce an entire hillside’s yield.

Flowering vines

Vine growth must be monitored and guided along vegetation wires so that shoots form vertical hedges. Another key task is desladroamento, known in the Douro as despampa: the removal of shoots not selected during pruning, which would otherwise drain the vine’s energy and divert vigor from productive growth.

During the growing season, weeds must be removed in a narrow, 30-centimeter strip along the vine line, where they compete directly with the vine roots—preferably mechanically, and only as a last resort with herbicides.

Beyond this strip, weeds play an essential role. Ideally, these herbs are local and in balance, though that balance can be disrupted by herbicide use. Leguminous plants such as fava beans and red clover fix nitrogen in the soil, while other species prevent erosion, support microbial life, and attract beneficial insects—bees for pollination, and predators such as ladybugs and ground beetles that help control aphids, mites, and leafhoppers.

Poppies among Tinta Roriz vines in Quinta de Vargellas

As the season advances, vines must also be protected from disease and pests. Powdery mildew (oidium) is a constant threat and is traditionally controlled with sulfur, a natural treatment used since the nineteenth century and one to which no resistance has developed. Downy mildew poses a growing threat: warmer temperatures have shortened its incubation period, increasing the number of infection cycles and narrowing the window for intervention. Copper is an effective fungicide against downy mildew; when mixed with lime and water as calda bordalesa, it also enhances the vine’s tolerance to drought.

Farmers must also contend with pests such as the cigarrinha-verde (green leafhopper, Empoasca vitis) and the traça-da-uva (grape moth, Lobesia botrana), whose presence varies from year to year. As we move from the Baixo Corgo toward the Douro Superior, grape moths become less common, while the green leafhopper becomes more widespread.

 The Ripening Season

The ripening season runs from July to September. Through the long, dry Douro summer, berries develop under harsh conditions: heat waves can halt growth or cause dehydration, and skin-scorching sunlight is so common around St. John’s Day in late June that farmers call it “queima de São João” (St. John’s scorch). The steep schist terraces, magnificent as they are, offer little protection, leaving canopy management—carefully arranged leaves for shade—as the grower’s primary defense.

Veraison begins in July. Farmers say that “the painter has arrived” because grapes change color: reds turn from green to deep violet, whites become translucent and golden. But the stakes are high: if veraison is uneven, some berries ripen too early and others too late, complicating the harvest and compromising balance in the final wine.

Veraison (the painter arrives)

After veraison, the clock starts ticking. With each passing day, grapes lose acidity and gain sugar, and the winemaker’s most consequential decision—when to harvest—comes into focus. The balance between freshness and sweetness must match the style of wine: DOC Douro table wines call for higher acidity, while Port is made by blending grapes naturally rich in acidity, harvested at full ripeness. One reason wine quality has improved over time is better harvest timing; in the past, grapes were often picked on predetermined dates, or when farmers’ children were available to help.

Theory suggests that the Douro’s many varieties ripen at different times; experience teaches otherwise. Despite their differences, they tend to converge on a single moment, as though the valley itself were whispering that the time has come.

Veraison is followed by three blessed weeks: the last week of July and the first two of August. Winemakers take a brief holiday to rest before the most demanding moment of the year: the harvest. Yet even away, the vines never leave their minds. Should the break be cut short? Is it time to return?

As this pause ends, growers return to their vigil among the vines. Some estates rely on laboratory measurements of sugar, acidity, and pH, but many Douro viticulturists, including those who taught António, trust another guide: intuition honed by daily practice. They walk the vineyards early in the morning, before the heat builds, gently crush a berry between thumb and forefinger, taste, and study the weather forecast. This quiet ritual tells them, often with surprising certainty, when the grapes are ready.

Mid-August is the most beautiful moment of the year. By then, the weeds have turned brown, forming a protective cover over the soil, while the vines take on a bright green hue that will gradually begin to fade.

Vineyard in August

All the work has been done, the harvest crews have not yet arrived, and the vineyards belong solely to the viticulturists. As harvest approaches, some varieties—such as Touriga Nacional and Tinta Roriz—grow dry and ungainly, while others, like Tinto Cão, retain their elegance. In a field blend, some vines wither, and others flourish, yet the ensemble always holds together.

Harvest in the Douro is both exhilarating and nerve-racking. Pick too early and the wine lacks depth; pick too late and it loses structure. 

The ideal rainfall for September is modest—around 20 millimeters. A sudden downpour can swell berries, dilute flavors, or invite rot, but a light drizzle of 6 to 10 millimeters just before the harvest can refine the grapes. “How often we long for a gentle rain to settle the dust on the roads and wash the grapes before harvest,” says António. 

That longing echoes throughout Douro history. Writing in 1788, John Croft observed that a little rain at harvest “fills the grapes, washes away the dust, and gives them greater freshness.” In 1912, Frank Yeatman of Taylor’s recalled how September thunderstorms at Vargellas saved grapes that summer heat had shriveled, before they gained sufficient sweetness. André Simon, in Port, tells a similar story about the legendary harvest of 1868: after an oppressively hot summer, J. R. Wright of Croft judged the grapes beyond hope, decided not to declare a Vintage year, and left for Porto. A timely, gentle rain proved him wrong, transforming the crop into one of the greatest Vintage Ports ever shipped—declared by every house except Croft.

Older growers say the greatest secret of the harvest lies not in what you pick, but in what you leave behind: quality depends on what you reject. Sorting, whether in the vineyard or at the winery, is an act of discipline. Imperfect clusters are left on the vine; sunburned berries are discarded. Only the healthiest fruit reaches the granite lagares. This simple yet demanding philosophy is one reason the Douro continues to produce some of the world’s most distinctive wines.

In praise of the triggerfish

Wild fish with large fillets, firm flesh, and few pin bones are increasingly rare. Tuna, turbot, salmon, grouper, and seabass have become the aristocracy of the sea, commanding pride of place and soaring prices on fine-dining menus worldwide. One redeeming consequence of this scarcity is the reappraisal of fish once dismissed as having little commercial value.

One such species is the triggerfish. It is known in Portugal as peixe-porco (pig fish), an unfortunate name derived from the grunting sound it makes when lifted from the water. Triggerfish has a thuggish reputation: it survives surprisingly long out of water and can bite hard with teeth built to crush shells. At sea, it is fiercely territorial and will even attack sharks that venture too close to its nest.

On the plate, it comes second only to John Dory (peixe-galo). Feeding on sea urchins, crustaceans, clams, mussels, and small fish, it develops clean, firm, white flesh. It is protected by a tough, leathery skin and a locking dorsal spine, held in place by a smaller second spine and released by pressing it–the mechanism that gives the fish its English name.

In Portugal, fishermen often grill it whole over charcoal until the skin chars and peels away, revealing succulent flesh. It is also excellent fried, baked, or stewed, provided the skin is removed before cooking.

If you see peixe-porco on a menu, don’t hesitate to order it!