We woke up to a sunny day with clear blue skies!! Porto is lovely in the sunshine!!

We had a late breakfast at a very 1940s-era "confiteria palace," which is a classic Portuguese bakery complete with vaulted ceilings, mirrored walls, ancient old ladies wrapped in fur coats, and 70 cent coffee. This is basically my idea of paradise, and obviously the highlight of my morning. But we got a late start because our plan for the day was to go port tasting in nearby Vila Nova de Gaia, and one must at least appear to observe respectable drinking hours. We arrived at 11am.

Unlike many famous boozy areas, Porto's port production actually happens in Porto, as it has since the 18th century. Down on the Douro river waterfront, you simply walk over a bridge (designed by Gustave Eiffel's protege!) from Porto to Vila Nova de Gaia, a subdistrict of the city, and you're in the literal port warehouse district. Back in the day, all the warehouses were located here so that barrels of port could be loaded onto flatboats, and sailed down the Douro River to thirsty customers. Today, those same boats carry drunk tourists, but the warehouses are still pumping out port, and offering tastings and tours to visitors. In a small walkable neighborhood, there are nearly twenty vintners, many of whom don't even export outside Portugal. So today was our opPORTunity (sorry) to taste ports that aren't available anywhere else in the world.

We started at Kopke, which given its upscale riverfront location and posh furniture in the tasting room (including, and I am not joking, a velvet access rope), was obviously going to be the high roller port of the day. We weren't wrong- not only was the tasting about twice as expensive as other rooms, they also paired each port with fresh chocolate truffles. (Between my bakery breakfast, the port, and the chocolates, I was well on my way to a full-blown diabetic coma by noon. This was quite plainly going to be a fantastic day.) We tried ten-year-old white port, and a rose port, both of which were silky and rich and delicious. We moved on to several other tasting rooms, and I loved how each vintner had its own unique decor. At Croft, it was a stony, windowless man-cave filled with huge port vats and furniture fashioned from barrels. At Cockburn, the tasting room was a rustic Nordic-inspired dining room. At Offley, its dark stone walls, wrought iron, and wooden benches made it feel a bit like the Spanish Inquisition, if one was served fabulous tawny port in Torquemada's living room/prison. (sorry, Torquemada fans...too soon?)

By 6pm, we'd visited seven tasting rooms, and sampled fifteen ports total (we were smart and shared each tasting. Port is 20% alcohol, and I prefer not to wake up in a Portuguese alley with my passport missing and Mike Tyson's tattoo on my forehead again). I learned that I love white port and tawny port; that 1972 and 1971, while great years for producing people, sucked for producing port; and that in a dark tasting room with the lethal combination of booze and an eye depth perception injury, glass doors can appear surprisingly similar to an open space.

So our day of port tasting in Porto was magnificent, and thanks to our careful plan of sharing samples, drinking lots of water, and stretching the tasting day to six hours, we arrived back at our guesthouse almost completely sober, and with no hangover. So we're celebrating by going wine tasting in the Douro Valley tomorrow!