CLASSY GLASS MEN BREAKS A SKEPTICAL JOURNALIST
With a Caveat
BY ALAN GOLDFARB
August 14, 2023
As a journalist by training, whenever that skillset is called upon, I’m usually a good skeptic. It’s a trait that is necessary in order to be able to separate truth from fiction; and to bring clear reportage to one’s readers. Sometime in the early 1990’s Georg Reidel turned me into a believer; with a skeptical caveat. About three decades later, his son, Maxmiilian, performed the same magic trick on me. Again, with a caveat,
It was in a dank radio studio, buried in the bowels of a San Francisco Bay high school in which the classy and erudite Georg Reidel made my wine glass seem like a dixie cup.
At the time, I had a radio show, with the simple title, “Wine & Dine with Alan Goldfarb” I think I must have had 10 listeners. But somehow, I got Reidel -- who at the time was rolling out his single-varietal wine glasses that captured the imaginations of the wine world -- to come on my little radio station. The show I think though, was no piker. I had Andre Tchelistcheff on that little show, who came to the studio with his wife Dorothy; both schlepping from Napa. And I think Bob Mondavi and Margrit Biever made the trek, too. Maybe even Warren Winiarski and Michael Martini.
Before Reidel’s arrival, I dutifully swept the leaf- and debris-riddled outside entryway to the studio, which was like putting rouge on a warthog. But I needed to impress Reidel somehow that this was a bona fide operation; and my show would be worth his stature. And his precious wine glasses.
When he arrived, he was alone; elegantly dressed in a bespoke suit. And with what seemed like a handmade thick briefcase. I later learned – when it came time for the radio man and glass man to unveil our goblets for the tasteoff – Reidel carries his glasses wherever he goes; including into restaurants.
I presented my glass of choice – I think it was filigreed-stemmed, made in Poland, for which I was proud. But more importantly, I surmised, would equal or best whatever Reidel drew from his case.
It was said that Reidel’s glasses were produced to enhance the qualities of every known varietal. I was dubious.
I poured a Mondavi Pinot Noir into each of our glasses. We each took a few vigorous sniffs and a couple of small sips. Reidel then handed me one of his vessels – the one made for Pinot Noir – and poured the pinot into it. After machinations of the tasting ritual, I couldn’t believe it. Reidel’s German-made pinot glass rendered the wine wholly different from the one I tasted a moment before from my by-now-inferior receptacle. The wine now was fully opened, revealing more fruit, more sweetness in the nose, and less acidity. It was miraculous. (A sidenote: apparently it was Bob Mondavi, who introduced Georg Reidel, to wine.)
I was convinced the Reidel glasses made wine better. But believing doesn’t mean there isn’t a caveat.
Cut to 30 years later, when I am invited – along with about 100 others, mostly somms I presume – to an upstairs room above the food court at San Francisco’s Ferry Building. The occasion is to be a talk given by Georg’s son Maximilian, who’s also dressed in an elegant hand-tailored suit and who displays an engaging, humorous manner. Maximilian is on tour, taking a new line of glasses – dubbed Veloce – on the road.
I’m amazed when many in the room, are dazzled when Max pours a red wine into a decanter, named Eve, whose neck is nearly 20-inches long. I was sitting in the last row and I think I heard him say, when he emptied the bottle into the unwieldly looking flagon, the recoiling snake-like vessel proportions equally, wine into each guest’s glass. The assembled throng of seasoned wine-types actually oohed and aahed.
During the wine-cum-glass tasting – which at times seemed to be a lesson in Tasting 101, for which Reidel called “Wine Yoga” – I was enamored by the delicacy and amazing lightness of his glasses. They were also beautiful, elegant; and whose stem – thinner than an extra fine Tiffany T-Chip pen – was long and sleek. The overarching feel of the glass in the hand gave one a sense of holding an expensive skein of silk clothe.
Also, when I lifted the glass designed for Cabernet and Merlot, which held a 2018 Heitz Cabernet Sauvignon, never before has that vineyard's renowned spearmint aromas been so forthcoming. It was stunning. It seems as though I was smelling a York Peppermint Patty – the best peppermint candy ever conceived. It was wonderful.
So, after all that, and all that praise, here comes the caveat.
While those glasses certainly make the wine-drinking experience magical, those glasses are expensive. The line presented that day will set you back $45 SRP each. And if one purchases any number of different varietal-centric glasses, that goes beyond my pocketbook, and ken.
(In the spirit of full disclosure, each participant in the room that day, including me, got to take home all four of those glasses.)
A long time ago I thought it absurd, pretentious and, naturally, expensive to have glasses for each or even many different varietals. So, I opted for just two – both Reidels – for my special-occasion stemware. One for whites and the other for reds. It’s worked out splendidly.
But as Maximilian Reidel told his rapt audience of glass buyers and influencers in that room overlooking San Francisco Bay, “I think you’re not blaming your glasses enough.” The implication being, if your guests and customers are not satisfied with the wine in their glasses, you have no one to blame but yourself with your less-than-thrilling glasses.
But if you were listening raptly to Max, you may be convinced to switch your stemware. Because he said, without rancor, and a charming bit of salesmanship: “It’s my job to have you use (read: buy) the right glass.”
And that is what I call Glass Nost.