How important is the glass into which we pour fine wine? Does it really make that much difference?
Certain makers of stemware suggest that a glass of approximately 4 7/8 oz. is specifically suited to a particular wine, while one of 26 oz. is exactly the right choice for another. The best way to answer such questions is to conduct a personal test before running off to spend serious money on the "right" wine glasses. The following experiment was conducted in the spring of 1994.
I had been eager to try a new release from Wild Horse: 1990 Paso Robles Syrah. This wine was the first Syrah release from this noted producer and was made from grapes grown in the oldest Syrah vineyard in California, Laura's Vineyard in Paso Robles. I was pleased to note that the winery had held this wine for four years prior to its release, and interested to learn that it had been made in a style not often associated with this varietal; it was a light-bodied, approachable wine made for immediate consumption.
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The Glassware:
1) 6 oz. clear glass tumbler designed for scotch drinking from Glenfiddich
2) 16.5 oz. Hungarian crystal "Bordeaux" stem ware from Williams-Sonoma - both glasses washed immediately before use.
The wine, which came in a slate brownish-green bottle, was poured into the two glasses in equal amounts while my lunch was cooking. I picked up the tumbler first and held it to my nose. Closing my eyes, I drew in the bouquet: nothing. Well.. something. Maybe. I smelled again, trying harder. Soap? There was definitely something in there, but I could not tell by smell alone what it was. There was certainly no bouquet at all; it might have been Kool-Aid. Desperately feigning fairness, I raised the level of the wine in the glass. Now it couldn't be swirled at all. The wine just collected in the bottom of the glass in a darkish pool, unable to perform or inform, its bouquet lost, its color masked by the straight sides of the glass.
I tried the other glass. The wine in the 16-oz. glass designed for such things exploded in my face! Tons of fruit, ripe and appealing, its nose a little Bordeaux-like with dried herbs, tobacco, and pepper. A wonderful nose. Not just wonderful ... extraordinary!
Back to the other glass. Still nothing. (I had not yet tasted the wine.) I decided to experiment a little. Another identical tumbler was filled to the same level with clear water. I put the one to my nose, then the other. I could tell them apart by smell, but only with focused concentration. A third tumbler was filled to the same level with cold French Roast coffee. I smelled one, then the others, always identifying the water, but having trouble distinguishing the other two.
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