Hurdling Over Time: 19th-Century Madeira

BY NEAL MARTIN | FEBRUARY 27, 2019

“I think Madeira and Burgundy carry combined intensity and complexity of vinous delights further than any other wines. There is possibly something unlawful about their rapture.” – Prof. George Saintsbury, Notes on a Cellarbook (1920)

The Epiphany

A glass of 1920 Blandy’s Bual shredded my prejudices and opened my senses to the kaleidoscopic delights of Madeira. I had foolishly presumed it was a fortified for fogeys – you know, the kind of beverage that rendered Grandma tipsy between the Christmas turkey and the Queen’s speech. Madeira was antiquated, retro, but not in a hip, post-modern way; it was the tipple of squares and weirdos. In 2003 I even booked a holiday to the island – an ironic gesture that thankfully backfired in life-changing fashion. Yes, I did find a sizeable percentage of the population white-haired and wrinkly. The island was not exactly party central; no Ibizan all-nighters on the beach (not that there are any beaches). But Madeira’s dramatic volcanic terrain took me by surprise: craggy mountains and deep ravines of pure basalt, not to mention the breathtaking drive along the north coast with the Atlantic roiling below that prompted me to once write: “The road chiselled into the cliff-face from São Vicente to Porto Moniz makes the A13 from Benfleet to Basildon seem dull by comparison.”

The spectacular coastline of Madeira, with a vineyard perched on top of cliffs overlooking the Atlantic.

Landscape aside, that unassuming glass of 83-year-old Bual, ordered out of curiosity at Blandy’s Lodge in Funchal, was the biggest revelation. My senses lit up. I looked at my watch. It was epiphany o’clock. And once you experience the glory of Madeira, it never leaves you. You join a secret society of Madeira fanatics, an underground resistance force that pledges to keep Madeira alive. It’s like Fight Club, though instead of shirtless men gathering in dark cellars to beat each other to a pulp, they gather in dark cellars to fight over Malmsey against Bual, the only angry words thrown being something like, You complete Bastardo. Unlike Fight Club, I am able to talk about it and indeed, write about it. Over the years I have penned a dozen articles on the subject, visited the island on a further three or four occasions and authored comprehensive reports. Numerous encounters with ancient Madeira have had a profound effect on my appreciation and sent me down the gyre of time to its year of birth, which could lie one or even two centuries in the past.

A Cellar Favourite notwithstanding, I open my Madeira account in audacious fashion and make no apologies for that. My original intention was to focus upon recent releases; unfortunately, other articles and deadlines waylaid me. But last June I did spare a morning for a friend and Madeira maven with a jaw-dropping collection, who invited me to a private tasting of 19th-century Terrantez. This grape variety arguably represents the apotheosis of Madeira. Alas, extant bottles from its halcyon days are rare as hen’s teeth, to the extent that one or two bottles in this report have never been documented and may never be encountered again. In the end, I decided to write two separate articles. This first piece focuses upon ancient Madeira, with the spotlight on Terrantez; a second one planned for later this year will examine new releases, hopefully in conjunction with a long-overdue visit to Madeira itself, not least because it would coincide with the 600th anniversary of the island’s settlement.