✍️ How to Offend a Sommelier (without meaning to)

More than 20 years after passing the exam, I still have questions

A modern still-life taken during a meal at Reale, in Abruzzo (EJL photo)

I’ve become an absentminded swirler.

The habit took hold over years of conducting and attending wine tastings. And in that context, it makes perfect sense. Swirling releases a wine’s aromas and helps reveal its character. But nowadays I often find myself swirling drinks that make no sense: my water glass, my coffee cup, even diminutive glasses of grappa or other distilled spirits.

At some point, my swirling stopped being a technique and became some kind of ritual, detached from the purpose it was meant to serve.

There’s a lot of that going around.

Wine service has a peculiar choreography. There’s the theatrical flick of the wrist as the cork is pulled, followed by a brief, satisfied sniff. I know one place in Rome where a top-shelf wine makes three stops before the diner can even begin to swirl: from the bottle to a decanter to a small glass to a large crystal chalice. And once the cork is pulled, it’s become increasingly popular for sommeliers to come up with creative new ways to display it.