I put in a pretty dismal performance at my local wine store’s blind tasting last week. Out of eight mystery syrahs from the northern Rhône, my second favorite was the group’s second least favorite. Then my almost-most-disliked was the winner. It wasn’t just a case of to-each-her-own; it was as if I was wearing my taste buds backwards.
The evening was spared by Russ, my table-mate. Russ says he’s a regular attendee and indeed no seams showed on his palate. He complained of the the group’s least favorite (Bernard Burgaud’s 2004 Côte Rôtie, $60, my third favorite — doh!), “no punch.” Of the winner (Michel and Stephane Ogier’s Côte Rôtie of the same vintage, $73), he said, “loved the pepper.”

For details on the surprise take-away of the evening, click here:

Anyway, to keep the cost of the tastings down, we all bring eight of our own glasses. I purchased a 12-pack of cheapies at Costco for the occasions, thinking then when I inevitably broke one, my embarrassment wouldn’t be exacerbated by the sound of a cash register in my mind. And it’s true; the person who brings $24 Reidels to a group tasting is nothing but a show-off with bad priorities. Think about all the good wine he could have sipped from a modestly priced glass instead.

As for Russ, I noticed that his glasses were nice, sure, but not too fancy — until he picked one up and banged it against the side of the table.

Now, I’d heard about super-strong stemware made of titanium and whatnot, but I hadn’t yet seen one — in this case, a Schott Zweisel Forté — in action. I was stunned. I had the same reaction to Russ’s demonstration as that customer when Madge tells her she’s got her fingers in Palmolive dishwashing liquid: I jerked away. But the glass bounced back, shiny, delicate, and completely intact. I’d invest $10 per glass in that.

Most importantly, Russ says he likes soaking in them.