This is the Fourth in a series of posts in which I explore the wonderful world of Port wines, in particular the class known as Aged Tawny Port. See all posts.

This is what it’s all about.

When I started this survey of 20-year old tawnies a couple of months ago, I thought I’d have a deuce of a time topping the Niepoort 20 I selected as a starting point. That wine was elegant, refined, and lush, making me smile with every luxurious sip. Unbeatable, right?

That first impression was reinforced by my second selection a few weeks later. While the Sandeman 20 was a fine drinking experience as well, I have to be honest: it paled in comparison to the Niepoort. Tasty, to be sure, but a little too sweet, a bit too aggressive, lacking just that little bit extra in the finish. I began to think maybe I’d already been to the pinnacle, and there was no place to go but down.

Which brings me to Taylor Fladgate.

I knew the pedigree. Taylor, Fladgate and Yeatman ranks among the largest and oldest of the world’s Port houses, founded way, way back in 1692. While still a family-run business, today Taylor Fladgate is a powerhouse, also shipping under the Fonseca and Croft brands. Big and old: I wasn’t sure what this would really mean when I purchased the bottle. Was I buying something mass-produced and soulless, or did that rich history indicate I was in for something special? I had a sneaky suspicion it would be the former.

So imagine my surprise when I uncorked this bottle and tasted pure velvet. This, this is Port. Smooth, old-fashioned, mellow, filling my head with images of overstuffed armchairs and mahogany-shelved libraries. It’s everything Port is supposed to be, and I love it.

To details: it begins seducing your senses the instant you start to pour. The wine has a rich, ruddy color, somewhere between red brick and a blood orange. Next comes the subtle, refined nose, full of plum and other dark fruit. Dreamy. Mouth-watering. Perfect.

And then the taste. The Taylor has a dense, complex flavor, and while there’s a strong fruitiness to it, it’s not too sweet — more like a touch of honey, balanced by a bit of acidity and a slight whiff of alcohol. You can taste every one of those years in cask. This Port has authority.

But much like the Niepoort, the best comes last. The flavors don’t quit, they bloom on the palate, expanding to fill every space, with a gentle caress that seems to go on forever. It’s just lovely, and this is also the first Port I’ve tried that really works without accompaniment (although dark chocolate pairs very nicely indeed).

Is it better than the Niepoort? I’d have to try them side-by-side to say definitively, but for now I have to put Taylor Fladgate at the top of my (admittedly still very short) list. Which leaves me with the same question I had two months ago: how am I ever gonna top that?

Learn more: www.taylor.pt