This morning we followed an ancient family tradition: the "egg run." Back when dinosaurs walked, my late FIL was a plant floor manager. From time to time on as weekend he'd say that he was "going to get eggs," take one of his sons to help drive, and head out on country roads. He always managed to hit the bars that knowledgeable fellow employees went to and after having drink-and-talk in several he'd get to the egg farm, get some eggs, and head back toward home. It became a family legend.
Today we walked across the bridge to the other side of the river Douro and commenced to some serious wine tasting. (And when we get home and I can load the camera pictures into the computer, I'll share photos with y'all.) We learned that all Portuguese wine wants to be sweet. Thus the Portuguese ports are also sweet. And these are nothing at all like the/ "port wine" being made by various Texas wine makers.