There I was, hunkered down in a cold, shallow ditch, cowering behind a strategically situated bale of hay that is supposed to be my bunker. There were three 11-year-old boys outflanking me to my left and right. Any moment, a hail of paintballs would pelt me like a duck in a shooting gallery and I would be out of the game. And not a moment too soon. Ever sinceI took to the field this chilly winter day to participate in the birthday party of my son’s best friend, all I can think about is warming up with a glass of Port — that delicious Portuguese elixir that has warmed other countless souls for centuries.

Its roots go back to the 17th century, when Great Britain declared war on France, thus cutting off the Brits’ supply of fine wine. The British promptly turned to friendly Portugal, where they decided to add brandy to barrels of wine during fermentation in order to keep it fresh for its long journey down the Douro River to the port town of Oporto and then back to England and Scotland. This “fortification” created a sweet wine — thanks to the abundant residual sugars — whose noticeable fruit was kept in check by the high alcohol levels — perfect for a chilly day.