The week before last, at the top of a cliff running sheer down to the Atlantic, I took part in one of the most remarkable tastings I ever expect to enjoy. The 43 wines included no fewer than seven from the 19th century and one, in absolutely fine fettle, from the end of the 18th. I know of no wine that lasts as long as madeira, preserved by a combination of deliberate oxidation, heat and the naturally high acidity in everything grown on this volcanic island. (Pictured is what visitors arriving at Funchal airport, after one of the world's...