There's a delicious irony in the Douro's magic. Just when you and the vines are seeking relief from the heat with shade and a cool, evening aperitif, the surrounding sun-baked schist exhales and warms the air back up. I call this tough love.
For much of the three decades since Portugal's entry into the EU, broader recognition of Portuguese white and red table wines remained elusive. Portugal was the least familiar, most enigmatic part of Old Europe. The Douro was largely relegated to the status of Ribera del Duero in D-minor and left to forgotten B-sides. The last decade, however...