Dear Agony Uncle,
When ordering a bottle of wine at a restaurant and the waiter asks if you wish to try some, I always decline because it seems pointless. If I like the wine, I will accept the bottle, but if I do not, I feel sheepish refusing it and will accept the bottle anyway.
Please enlighten me, what is the correct etiquette if you dislike the wine? What will the waiter do with the opened, unwanted wine?
Uncorked, Adelaide, SA
Dear Uncorked,
The formal procedure associated with sampling wine at a restaurant can seem a daunting task to many, however, it needn’t be as frightening as a former nun’s first Brazilian wax. It’s one of the few privileges of choice we have left in our lives, and if only we could apply it to other situations … like people, before sleeping with them. Like most laws of etiquette, the process stems from practicality: firstly to establish trust between the restaurant and patron; and secondly, to ensure satisfaction is achieved for both parties. Kind of like a relationship with a dominatrix, only there isn’t a safe word.
If the establishment you find yourself in is higher-end, chances are you’ll see a rosy-cheeked fellow (or lass) looming around the corners of the room armed with a phonebook of wines—that’s the sommelier. Consider this person your guide through the process of selecting a wine and you should trust their judgement, albeit within reason. A good sommelier is someone who knows how to pair wine with your meal and will take your preferences—taste, varieties and price—into consideration when helping you make the right decision. A bad sommelier is someone who doesn’t listen to your needs or attempts to steer you towards the most expensive wine on the list. A direct correlation to whether they’ve previously worked at McDonald’s is yet to be confirmed, however, perhaps they’d be better pushing fries instead of Pinot Grigio.
In the absence of a sommelier, your waiter is your ally when it comes to wine selection, and if they’re half decent they will have tried every wine on the list, in a professional capacity, of course. Whilst their knowledge of wine won’t be as extensive as a sommelier’s, they will have an understanding of which wines are offered by their establishment and how each pairs with each dish.
Sommelier or no, whoever is serving your wine should always bring an unopened bottle to your table. This demonstrates that you’re getting what you’ve selected and that they’re not refilling it with cask wine or antifreeze out the back. Once it’s presented to you, you should inspect the label and ensure that the vintage and variety is what you’ve ordered. This is your only time to speak up, otherwise your silence implies ownership of that particular bottle. Occasionally, what you’ve selected will be unavailable, so it’s the service staff’s responsibility to find you a suitable alternative within the same vein and price bracket.
Then comes the dreaded sampling: the waiter will open the bottle and pour you a small amount to try. The pressure’s on and with several pairs of eyes scrutinising your every move, it’s no wonder you can feel hot under the puffy sleeves. The main reason for this practice is to establish whether the wine has been cellared properly, rather than seeing if it suits your palate. One in every forty bottles is corked for a variety of reasons—unstable cellaring conditions, oxygen entering the bottle during the bottling process or an unsuitable cork—so knowing that you’re about to drink a lovely vintage and not a second-rate salad dressing is paramount.
The cork should be placed in front of you. There is no need to smell it, but if it looks dry and cracked, there’s a high likelihood that the wine is corked. Next, inspect the colour and clarity of the wine—if it’s cloudy, send it back immediately; likewise if there are large clumps of sediment or cork floating in the within the liquid, drinking it won’t do you any favours. Swirl the wine in the glass then smell it: if it smells like vinegar, wet cardboard, mouldy, rotten eggs or any other smell that would generally make you gag or blame on the dog, then the bottle is unsuitable—send it back. Finally, taste the wine and if it’s palatable, nod and say, “It’s fine.”
You should note that with the recent advent of screw-top bottles, wine doesn’t have the opportunity to be corked and the tasting procedure is offered more so in the interest of maintaining tradition. There is, of course, a minor chance that the wine might have been mishandled or stored in extremes of temperature, in which case it would be immediately apparent it has joined the occult like an angst-ridden teen and made the turn for the worse.
Unfortunately, if a wine isn’t quite to your taste, this isn’t exactly grounds for refusing it, however, if the bottle’s one that your sommelier or waiter has recommended, then you do have a first right of refusal, particularly as you were governed by their selection. If, however, a wine you selected is abhorrent and even your waiter can’t stomach it, then it should have never appeared on the wine list and the remainder should be shipped off to a toxic waste storage facility immediately.
If you do find that you need to refuse a wine, there’s no need to make a fuss. Explain that the waiter or sommelier’s recommendation wasn’t to your liking by saying something polite, “That wasn’t quite what I was expecting,” or “I’m not certain that it’s quite right.” Normally, the sommelier or waiter will identify with your plight, possibly sample the wine themselves and make an effort to please you with an alternative. If, they take exception to your line of questioning and refuse to replace it, you must begrudgingly accept and reflect your disappointment with a lack of a tip.
So what happens when you send it back? If it’s corked, then it will face a certain death into the sewerage system, or in dodgier venues, make it’s way into a dressing or sauce for unsuspecting patrons. If it wasn’t to your expectations, then the staff will be grateful for a mid-shift or knock-off tipple, or it will be returned to the bar for sale by the glass, where the restaurant will make its profit margin and then some from lightweight diners. Now isn’t that heartwarming?
Published on 9 January 2012 by Agony Uncle