I think glassware matters, as does atmosphere, when having wine. Hubby doesn’t. You decide.
On our Valentine’s Day we made an impromptu stop at Valencia Wine Company for a glass of Champagne about 4 in the afternoon. When their wine educator, Jeff Prange, suggested a split of a newly acquired brand, we readily agreed. (The Ployez-Jacquemart Champagne seen here.)
We enjoyed our first split outside on the patio so that we could enjoy an unseasonably warm afternoon and people watch. We held hands. And, as the atmosphere was so pleasant and unhurried, and the Champagne a special treat, we ordered another split.
Eddie asked what I wanted for dinner, I said steak and a really nice red wine. Then he got it in his head to stop by the house and pick up a bottle of a 2001 Joseph Phelps Backus that needed to be drunk and get over to Backwoods for dinner before the crowd.
So, we shot by the house, got the wine, shot over to the restaurant. We got a table in the back. Hurried waitress reminding us what night it was and the hectic time we were surely to have. Nonetheless, when she saw the bottle, she quickly told us of the $8.50 corkage fee. I recalled it being $5 the last time, but as both fees are lower than standard, I didn’t quibble at all.
But, then, I remembered their wine glasses. The kind of glasses used in places that don’t really serve much wine. In fact, when we usually come we just have Glenlivit or Glenfiddich single malt Scotch. And their glassware is fine for that.
I wished I had brought my Spiegelau stemware, or even the big-bowled Silver Oaks glasses they used to give away at the winery. (No, I don’t have Riedels except for their tumbler.)
Ed said it wouldn’t matter. Before our waitress had returned with the glasses I switched lamps with the emply table next to ours as theirs had been lit. I removed the sugar packets and wine menu as well in my attempt to “dress up” our table.
As you see I took the photo without the stemware in it. I couldn’t get a nose at all, most likely because I couldn’t fit the bulb of my nose into the tiny glass. Ed said he could, but, yet, didn’t share much beyond “Berries”.
So, for me, the atmosphere and the glassware made my Champagne experience far more pleasant than my Cabernet. And my husband? Well he finished every last drop of the Backus. With his Filet Mignon, my Prime Rib and, I’m pretty sure, the sawdust that normally just sticks to the floor. Aw, romance.
