Madeira's tale starts in 1350 with the story of two lovers worthy of Shakespeare. Noel Cossart recounts, in Madeira, The Island Vineyard, the tale of a handsome young noble Robert è Machine who fell madly in love with the beautiful Anna d'Arfet, a lady of higher rank. Because of the differences in their noble standing, marriage was forbidden. But their love would not be denied and they eloped aboard his single-masted cog, La Welyfare.

Under the cover of darkness, they slipped out of the harbor of Bristol and set sail for the Mediterranean only to be driven out into the Atlantic by a northeasterly gale. For thirteen days they ran the storm until the winds subsided and they discovered a deserted and mountainous volcanic island about 400 miles off the coast of Morocco---the island Portuguese sailors would later call Madeira (island of the woods). But their joy was brief, for shortly after landing Anna died in Roberts arms. When Robert died seven days later of a broken heart the ships crew buried them in a single grave.

Tragic love, American history and the world's longest living wine co-star in the incredible tale of wine gone bad. That's right. The process of making Madeira involves slowly cooking and oxidizing the wine. Heat and oxygen are the very terrors from which we so vigilantly protect wine with corks and temperature-controlled cellars. Madeira is decidedly different, yet incredibly delicious.

Madeira became the colonists' beverage of choice because of another love story. On May 21, 1662, Charles II of England married Catherine, the infanta of Portugal (sister to King Alfonso VII). It was an arranged marriage, negotiated out of England and Portugal's mutual need for an alliance against their common enemy Spain. The deal was military support from England in exchange for a dowry of the ports of Bombay and Tangier and sacks of Brazilian gold. The island of Madeira was held in reserve just in case Portugal needed to sweeten the pot. But Charles and Catherine fell in love at first sight, the negotiations went smoothly, and the island of Madeira remained Portuguese.

While happy in love, Charles wasn't above screwing the American colonists for the financial gain of England. In 1665 he banned the importation of European goods to the colonies, effectively creating a monopoly for English goods. But due to a soft spot in his heart he made one important exception--the goods of Madeira. The results of his actions were two fold: America was soon drinking a hell of a lot of Madeira, and those tight-lipped New Englanders got pissed off enough to kick butt from Bunker Hill to Yorketown (whose battle plan was conceived by George Washington and Lafayette while meeting in Wethersfield, (no doubt over a bottle of Madeira).

Charles' decision to exempt the wine of Madeira, on face value, was no great boon for the colonists. This was a barely drinkable wine at its source, so high in acidity that it could have stripped the barnacles off the hulls of ships and so cheap that it was viewed more as ballast than as valuable cargo. But a strange and wonderful miracle occurred during the long voyages to the Americas. Tossed about by the motion of the ship, cooking in the heat of the hull, exposed to life-threatening oxygen by the sailors helping themselves to a sip or two or more---and lo and behold, Madeira tasted better on landing. Shippers discovered that fortification (the addition of alcohol as a preservative) and even longer sea voyages, such as round trips to the east or West Indies improved the mellowed the wines even more.

Soon Madeira was the rage, with America importing over one-quarter of the Madeira's total yearly production and the very highest quality wine becoming known as American Madeira. Madeira was poured to toast the Declaration of Independence, Washington"s Inauguration in 1789 and the decision to locate the US capitol in Washington DC. George Washington consumed a pint or two with dinner for pleasure and to ward off the stench of his wooden dentures. Chief Justice Marshall was known for his rowdy Madeira parties and Daniel Webster for being a Madeira loving free-loader. And Thomas Jefferson was a life- long admirer whose preference was for wines "of the nut quality and the very best."

In those early days, Madeira was named after the family or shipper who imported it--Oglethorpe, Lenox, Griswold, Cadwalader, Ravenel, Fitzhugh: or after the ship that delivered it--Red Jacket, TheWidow, Wander, Southern Cross, Juno: or after the places it had traveled--for Example, Commodore Perry brought home a Japan Madeira.

Madeira was serious business for our young country. America's decision to stand up to the Barbary Pirates to insure the safety of American sailing vessels and the Madeira trade led to war. The 14 gun frigate Constitution, nicknamed "Old Ironsides," not only was launched with a bottle of Madeira in 1797 but she helped defeat the pirates. The famous 1802 vintage Madeira the Constitution brought back home was named after her and no doubt was the featured wine at many a Madeira party.

The typical Madeira Party started at 5pm and lasted for two to three hours. Tradition called for eight men to join at a table with five or six bottles that would circulate clockwise. Discussion would ensue over the relative merits of each wine and cigars were only allowed to be lit after the third wine was tasted.

Madeira was on top of the world in the early 1800's but then a series of disasters struck from which it has yet to recover. In 1851, Oidium, a type of mildew, attacked the islands vineyards and destroyed the vines. Production plummeted. The 1860's brought the civil war and the union blockade of the Confederacy's ports. The southern states were by far the major consumers of Madeira and many a planter secretly buried his prized Madeira as the Union forces advanced. (Rhett Butler most certainly would have carried Madeira as part of his cargo on his blockade runner and as a true gentleman, shared a bottle or two with Scarlet.)

Phylloxera, an aphid that attacks vine roots, arrived on the island on 1872 and wiped out the vineyards. Then in 1919, just to prove that bad things don't always happen in threes, right as the industry was ready to resume its American love affair. Prohibition went into effect with disastrous results.

Madeira no longer sails the high seas to achieve its character. Prohibitive costs and many sailors weakness for strong drink put an end to this practice in the early 1800's when producers began to replicate the effects of a long, hot sea voyage with hot houses or Estufat.

Today, Madeira is fermented like any other wine. Grape varieties are vinified separately, and created differently. In the case of Verdelho and Sercial, the wines are sweetened and fortified after all their grape sugars have been converted to alcohol by the yeast to raise the alcohol level to insure stability. Malvasia and Bual are typically fortified early on in the fermentation process to preserve their richness and sweetness. The result in both cases is a wine that is between 17 and 18 percent alcohol. The wine is then sent to the esturás where it will slowly cook and oxidize at a temperature of 45° C for a minimum of three months and up to as long as six months. Following its estufagem, the wine is carefully cooled to prevent spoilage. The very best vintage wines are then allowed to age up to twenty years, and in special instances over 100 years, in American oak casks before bottling.

The resulting wines are among the longest-lived and most fascinating wines in the world thanks to the semi-pasteurization that they undergo during their estufagem, their intensely crisp acidity thought to be due to a lack of calcium in the soil and, as I like to believe, the eternal and true love of Robert á Machin and Anna d' Arfet, Yet in spite of all its`charms, surprises and pleasures Madeira is for the most part still a forgotten beverage in America today, as we Quaff designer waters, chardonnay, smoothies, lattes, vodka and soda pop, barely remembering our history so intent are we on hurling into the future. But Madeira is a wine that demands attention and contemplation, best enjoyed at the end of a hectic day, or sipped and savored after a dinner with a loved one or friends. It is a wine that requires us to stop our relentless pursuit of tomorrow and take one moment, one day at a time. Perhaps we have forgotten how to do that. Now that would be a shame