Wine service has come a long way since the days of Paris goblets, Duralax tumblers and old Vegemite jars.

For the first twenty years of my wine life the standard ISO wine tasting glass was de rigueur. They did the job but, in retrospect, they were pinched and meant locking in most of the aromatics with their tiny bowl restricting the wine’s generosity. I now use my ISO as an everyday sherry glass.

Today we have an astonishing choice of glassware with decent, everyday glasses at bargain prices alongside serious players such as Spiegelau, Zerrutti and the top marque, Riedel. Riedel offer an extensive range of glassware – each specifically designed to go with different grape varieties and wine styles.

Are they worth the effort? I think so – after all, what’s the point of cellaring a fabulous pinot noir for a decade and then serving it in an inferior glass. Mind you, as much as I love my (pair of) Riedel Grand Cru Burgundy glasses, they’re not for everyday use. I find the Vinum Chianti Classico an excellent daily glass – and I find they happily go through our dishwasher.

Case in Point

My thoughts on glassware were rekindled a few nights ago when I was eating in a one-hat Sydney restaurant – a low key venue with an emphasis on its food, not especially wine. Nonetheless, there were some interesting and quirky wines on the short, sharp list with just a single Champagne: a Larmandier Bernier Brut Tradition 1er Cru at $120. Bargain, I thought and promptly ordered it. The wine opened well but the heavy commercial flutes proffered damaged the wine. Not only were they clunky in the hand but the tapered profile pinched the bouquet and locked down its flavours, which were also inhibited by the low service temperature.

Luckily the table was set with a decent wine glass which had a generous bowl. I quickly decanted from the flute to the glass and the wine instantly opened out beautifully – pure and fresh with lots of citrus blossom, pink grapefruit and nectarine flavours and a touch of biscuity complexity. The bottle didn’t last long.

Classic and Antique Glassware

While I admire the ever expanding range of varietal specific glasses in the marketplace, old glassware can be fun too. I collect old sherry and port glasses picking them up in the oddest places, French provincial markets, a Brussels street market, a corner antique shop in Copenhagen and even at Abud in Bali, of all places.  They’re mostly individual examples, with my guests offered the opportunity to choose their own glass.

I especially like classic Victorian flutes for Champagne. Although they don’t have a generous bowl, they look wonderful, they feel ‘real’ and add a sense of gravitas to the Champagne and the occasion. The same goes for the austere beauty of glassware from the Georgian period – sure they’re not delicate (like most modern glassware) but they’re still refined and elegant, adding a sense of occasion to a simple mid-week meal.

Then again I’m quite old- fashioned and use a white linen napkin housed in a silver napkin ring, bone handle knives and silver forks to turn a late-night supper into an occasion – even if I’m alone watching Tony Jones on Lateline.

Decant and Serve

Decanters are another hobby – and while I don’t decant every wine I taste, I make an effort with weekend dinners to use them. My shabby-chic pewter ‘duck’ decanter is a special favourite. I also have a couple of classic silver-topped Claret decanters and a several delicate, simply etched flasks with cut-glass stoppers. We all have ‘decanter’ envy and the one I’m waiting for is the Riedel Amadeo – its graceful curves bound to enhance even an everyday wine – be it red or white.

This brings me to one of my wine service grips. Most sommeliers seem to think that decanting is for red wines only, and ignore whites. I’m ambivalent about decanting young aromatic whites but full-bodied whites and mature bottles really enjoy some air – with the side-benefit of being allowed to come up a few degrees from the typical near-zero in a commercial fridge from which they’re dispensed (but where they should never be stored).

Perhaps the reason that many consumers overlook our great chardonnays is because they drink them at 8-10 degrees, not at an ideal 15 degrees when the bouquet can express itself and the fruit flavours develop in harmony with the structural acid and tannin components.

I think it’s time to get off my soap box – and decant my last magnum of 1997 Bannockburn Chardonnay. Now where is that magnum decanter?