Malmsey. Isn't that a great name?

It's madeira made from Malvasia grapes. Madeira is an interesting wine -- fortified with brandy, it was often shipped long distances in adverse conditions (pre-steamship days) since it's grown and fermented way off the coast of Portugal. Fortuitously (this goes along with the "who ate the first artichoke?" question), somebody discovered that the kegs of fortified wine, rolling around the hold of a sailing ship, actually improved in flavor and quality. Apparently Thomas Jefferson and his fellow founding fathers were big fans of madeira. Now, it's the only wine that's produced by storing the barrels in heated conditions.

We talked about, and tasted, fortified wines today: along with madeira: port and sherry. Each (though it has dim imitators from California and elsewhere) is the name of a specific place (Oporto is in Portugal, sherry is made in the Jerez region of Spain.) They are alike in two significant ways: each is fortified with brandy, bumping the alcohol level from about 14% to 20% or more, and you buy them (like fine French champagne) by the maker, the brand if you will. Each of the prominent makers has a developed "house style," usually made by blending several vintages for consistency, and you will rarely see a vintage-dated sherry or madeira. There's an exception with port.

Despite the similarities, these three beverages are so very unlike one another. Sherry is crisp and lean, the classic wine for tapas. The Manzanilla Fino we drank started off sharp and dry ("like a dirty martini," Steve said), but opened up when we tasted it with almonds and olives. By the way, Manzanilla is a specific kind of Fino port, made exclusively in the town of San Lucar de Barrameda. Drink it ice cold. That's how the Spaniards do it.The amontillado, by the same maker and using the exact same grapes (the "palomino"), smelled like butterscotch. It didn't taste a bit like butterscotch -- sort of that same bait-and-switch you got as a kid with vanilla extract. It's nutty. Think mushrooms. French onion soup.One sniff of Madeira and hey, there was fruit in the glass again. This smells like it's old: raisiny and burnt, almost. It's sweet and tangy, and you wouldn't go wrong using it with veal stock as the basis for a luscious sauce. The Malmsey is a fruitcake wine. Or turkey gravy: Steve is not a big fan of the traditional Thanksgiving meal, he claims, but if he makes a delicious madeira gravy, all's right with the world.

Port. Yum. We had a Fonseca "Bin No. 27" Ruby Port that gleamed, rich and fruity. I'm ready to try this with a puff pastry tart base sprinkled with stilton and toasted walnuts, and drizzled with honey.

By this time, I had to get up and get myself a glass of water. We had a nice assortment of snacks but fortified wines are, well, fortified. Chef Stazi came in, sniffed and swirled, and pointed his finger at me. "What are you doing to that woman?" he asked Steve. I can't help it. My face gets red. I'm blaming it on genes.

But we all soldiered on, finishing up with the Fonseca Tawny Port. Some drinks don't really need food. As Steve said, "You just gotta sit and pay attention to the wine." This one's in that category. But I wouldn't turn down a piece of nicely aged Parmigiano Reggiano. As I mentioned, there are vintage-dated ports, made from grapes of one vintage, then barrel-aged for three years. Then they're bottled, without filtering, and released about 3 years after the grapes were picked. Here's the rub, kids: They won't be worth drinking for at least 20 years. So you gotta be patient, and bring them with you every time you move.