05.13.07
Port and Chocolate
When an item popped up in a local weekly a few weeks ago talking about a special tasting evening at a local business, all I had to say to my husband was “port and chocolate” and he said “Make a reservation.” And thus we signed ourselves up for a tasting this past Thursday at Theo Chocolate, a new Seattle chocolate-maker that specializes in organic and single-origin chocolates, with ports from Warre’s Port, the oldest maker of port in the world, and featuring Dominic Symington, one of the partners of Warre’s.
It seemed at first that we were destined to not make it to the tasting. Although we’d thought we’d left ourselves plenty of transit time, we managed to get trapped between openings of two of the bridges over Seattle’s Ship Canal and the associated traffic, and then it turned out I’d gotten the location of the Theo factory wrong. When we finally got there, 10 minutes late, the tables were all full and they had no record of our reservation. Fortunately, the organizer took my word for it that we had, indeed, signed up, and told us that we could sit on one of the couches in the back and they would set us up with glasses. And thus we got to have a remarkable tasting experience.
We got to taste five ports, paired with five chocolates. The first was the Fine Selected White Port, paired with a thyme ganache chocolate. (The ganaches are what most people would call “truffles,” but the Theo representative explained that technically, truffles are rolled and enrobed by hand, and their filled chocolates are rectangular and machine-enrobed, so they prefer to call them “ganaches.”) I had never tried white port before; while it definitely has the almost-cloying sweetness of the muscat grape that is one of its ingredients, the other grapes modify that sweetness and make it refreshing and bright. Mr. Symington noted that white ports are generally drunk as aperitifs, and suggested using this one as a long drink (what Americans would call a “spritzer”) with tonic water or sparkling water. I felt that this port would be excellent with green things: crudites (perhaps with a light, tangy dip), or a light greens-based chilled soup, or melon (perhaps with prosciutto, though as a vegetarian I can’t actually state that). Because of this green harmony, the thyme ganache was a very nice complement; thyme is pleasantly green and just a bit sweet, and it harmonized with the brightness of the port and smoothed the bitter edge of the dark chocolate.
The second was the Otima 10-year tawny port, paired with Madagascar 65% cacao chocolate. The color of this port is extraordinary, like liquid amber. The aroma made me swoon even before I tasted it, rich with hints of wood and spice but a little sweet as well. The taste was a beautiful balance of dry and sweet, full in the mouth without being overpowering. It made me want to have it with an aged chevre–it would probably be good with fresh goat cheese as well, but I could really imagine how well it would go with the more mellow, woody flavors of an aged cheese. I found the chocolate a bit of a disappointment; it seemed harsh, slightly “dirty” and overly acidic to me. However, it did bring out peppery notes with the port, which was quite pleasant.
The third was Warre’s Warrior, their signature brand (it’s the oldest port brand in the world), with a 71% cacao chocolate from Cote d’Ivoire. The Warrior is really pretty much what port should be: rich, deep, with a balance of red and sweet flavors against a slightly spicy finish. Whole-grain crackers and a blue cheese (I don’t know what kind, unfortunately; the “blue” flavor was upfront, but mixed with a buttery, smooth texture) were also provided during the tasting, and I tried a little with this port–the combination was wonderful, though it made me crave some walnuts to go along with it. The chocolate, meanwhile, was extremely smooth despite the high cacao content, with a hint of cinnamon on the finish. With the port, it deepened the fruity notes, while the port brought out sweetness in the chocolate.
The fouth tasting was a late bottled vintage paired with a Ghana 84% dark chocolate. LBV port is cask-aged for four years, then bottled and allowed to age in the bottle for several more years. The result of this is a concentration of all the port flavors, with a strong emphasis on dark cherry and wood notes and a pleasant hint of tannins, much richer than the Warrior. We tried this one with the cheese as well, and found it even more perfect for cheese–I could happily sit down with a bottle of this and a selection of blues and make a meal. The chocolate, meanwhile, was intensely cocoa-y, but really nicely balanced between sweet and bitter, with a vague hint of vanilla. I typically don’t like this high a cacao content, but the balance of this one made it quite enjoyable. Combined with the port, it made for an experience of deep woodsy and dark flavors overlaid with the sweetness of dark fruits. We savored both for as long as we could.
The last tasting was a 1985 vintage port with a fig and fennel ganache. I had never expected to taste a vintage port, let alone from the hands of its maker (Mr. Symington decanted this one perosnally), and it was quite an experience. The color of this port is perfectly dark red, no brown or orange, like looking into a perfect ruby. The taste was incredibly complex and not something I can easily describe; there was plenty of fruit, but also a beautiful mix of tannins, and a certain floral quality. My husband and I both agreed that this was a port to drink on its own, not to clutter up with other foods. However, the chocolate did provide a nice complement; the fig gave it a dark depth that matched the depth of the port, and the herbal-liquorice note of the fennel contrasted the richness and gave it a little airiness.
All of the tastings were completely worth the price and the hassle, and we’d have been very happy with those on their own. But what truly made the evening outstanding was the presence of Mr. Symington. He is, of course, well-versed in the process of making port, and he spoke in great detail about the viticulture of port and the aspects of the region where their grapes are grown, and the technical aspects of casking and aging, and this was extremely informative and helped increase our appreciation for the port. I even learned why, in the historical novels I loved in my adolescence, there were references to a “pipe” of wine: It’s derived from the Portuguese word for “barrel.” He’s also very funny; he poked gentle fun at the puffery of many American winemakers who feel the need to justify their presence in the wine world by not acknowledging the existence of wine from other regions, and he had the room roaring when he described the “difficult” years of vintage ports (the stretch of time between the fruitiness of youth and the rich complexity of a proper aging) with a Portuguese expression usually used for adolscent girls and that translates roughly as “the locked-in-the-cupboard years.” (He also apologized for the paternalistic sexism of the expression, but I thought it was hilarious, having been an adolescent girl in my time and knowing the kind of mindset and behavior the expression refers to.) And he noted impishly that he would really like to take some of their 1870 vintage port and pour it over vanilla ice cream, but he fears his brother and cousins (his partners in the business) would disown him if he dared to do it.
In addition to these qualities, however, he has a strong sense of perspective about his responsibility to this business and to the wine. He said that he views himself as the “caretaker” of Warre’s and that it is his responsibility to look after it and make sure it is passed on to people (hopefully his children and nieces/nephews) who will have the same sense of responsibility to it. He can’t just sell it off and skip merrily away with the proceeds, because the weight of heritage that was passed on to him is important for him to maintain. In terms of his responsibility to the wine, he noted that his U.S. distributor has put their 1977 vintage port on the list for this tour he is doing, and he asked them to remove it; the 1977 is in its “difficult” stage, and he felt it would do a disservice to the customers and the port to serve something that would leave the drinker unenthused. This kind of respect for the quality is a lovely thing to see, and his views about his place in the world and the business quite touched us. We made a point at the end of the evening to thank him directly for his time and sharing his knowledge. We consider ourselves very fortunate to have gotten that.
As if all of this wasn’t enough, we were also treated to a brief tour of Theo’s factory at the very end of everything. How many of us had childhood dreams of visiting a chocolate factory? Well, I did, at any rate, and I finally got the chance. Since it was evening, things weren’t running, but we at least got to see all the equipment and hear an overview of their roasting and manufacturing process. This isn’t a big sleek soulless enterprise (yet, anyway); it’s still a small, specialized business that started with more determination than resources, and many of the machines in the factory were purchased second-hand and could even be considered antiques. It was fun to see the spirit they’re after in the color-coding of the process and the charming character of all the older equipment. I’m hoping to go back for an actual tour during operating hours, and perhaps take a group of friends and make an event of it.
As we left and headed home after this remarkable evening, I was profoundly struck by a sense of how wonderful my life is. To have the chance to taste port with its maker and share in his knowledge, to have quirky organic chocolate and see where it’s made–these are things that don’t come along every day, and I’m very, very glad that the chance came to us, and that we took it.