Across the country, a debate rages on...
One side fervently believes cognac should only be enjoyed in a snifter.
The other is like, “Hey, let’s not be so dogmatic here.”
Each makes a fine point, but in order to determine which side is correct, once and for all, we enlisted Food & Drink editor Kevin Gray (Team Snifter) and former editor Andrew Paine Bradbury (Team Anything Goes) to settle this most important question: what’s the best vessel for cognac?
Kevin Gray (KG): I’m here today to defend the good name of snifters everywhere. Their voluptuous shape. Their delicate sensibilities. And their proclivity for making my cognac even better.
Andrew Paine Bradbury (APB): Any man can make these kinds of wild claims, Kevin. Please explain how a snifter makes your cognac even better.
KG: The shape itself enhances the whole sensory experience, concentrating those aromas and flavors. It’s a real feat of glassware engineering.
APB: You’re wrong. The best way to enjoy any spirit is a quick, hard-earned sip from the bottle after saving a group of kids and nuns from a burning orphanage. At least that’s how I do it.
KG: ...
APB: I’ll leave that one to the fact-checkers. I’m definitely a firm believer that proper glassware can enhance the overall experience of a drink—especially when it’s as rich and layered as a fine cognac. But my dear Mr. Gray: have you never heard of the tulip glass?
KG: I’m aware of their existence.
APB: Sure, a snifter will force your nose deep into the glass, and swirling it around exudes a certain Bond villain charm. But to me, the tulip glass—with its smaller evaporation surface—provides a delicate stage for the spirit to shine on. That said, I never met a rocks glass I didn’t like.
KG: Fair point, and I grant you the fact that a rocks glass is a real workhorse that’s never led me astray. And the tulip glass has a similar upward-trajectory factor as a snifter. But I want to feel the full base of a snifter in my palm as my hand warms the glass just slightly, opening up new flavors and aromas.
APB: The warming thing I get. But I think you’ll find a tulip glass helps to temper the more pungent fumes of the alcohol and allows you to appreciate the finer notes.
KG: Those fumes you call pungent, I call “more, please,” and I think the narrow opening of the tulip glass actually concentrates those fumes—it doesn’t temper them. Plus, that Bond villain charm with all its luxury appeals to me. I don’t know. Maybe it’s this silk robe I’m wearing.
APB: The snifter says “I’m plotting the end of Western civilization,” but the robe says “I promise to make it very, very smooth.”
KG: But okay, look... cards on the table, I’m going to drink cognac out of whatever you give me. At my house, it’s going to be a snifter because I like snifters, but at your house, maybe it’s a rocks glass, or a tulip glass, or a cereal bowl, or a terra-cotta pot. As long as there’s cognac in it, I’m not going to turn it away.
APB: In that case, would you like to come over for a terra-cotta pot of cognac?
KG: That depends. If I brought my own snifter to your house, would you let me in?
APB: I would never turn anyone away from my home bar for reasons of belief or stemware orientation.
KG: This is why we’re friends. That, and because while our glassware opinions may differ, we can both agree that the glass itself should be filled with cognac.
One side fervently believes cognac should only be enjoyed in a snifter.
The other is like, “Hey, let’s not be so dogmatic here.”
Each makes a fine point, but in order to determine which side is correct, once and for all, we enlisted Food & Drink editor Kevin Gray (Team Snifter) and former editor Andrew Paine Bradbury (Team Anything Goes) to settle this most important question: what’s the best vessel for cognac?
Kevin Gray (KG): I’m here today to defend the good name of snifters everywhere. Their voluptuous shape. Their delicate sensibilities. And their proclivity for making my cognac even better.
Andrew Paine Bradbury (APB): Any man can make these kinds of wild claims, Kevin. Please explain how a snifter makes your cognac even better.
KG: The shape itself enhances the whole sensory experience, concentrating those aromas and flavors. It’s a real feat of glassware engineering.
APB: You’re wrong. The best way to enjoy any spirit is a quick, hard-earned sip from the bottle after saving a group of kids and nuns from a burning orphanage. At least that’s how I do it.
KG: ...
APB: I’ll leave that one to the fact-checkers. I’m definitely a firm believer that proper glassware can enhance the overall experience of a drink—especially when it’s as rich and layered as a fine cognac. But my dear Mr. Gray: have you never heard of the tulip glass?
KG: I’m aware of their existence.
APB: Sure, a snifter will force your nose deep into the glass, and swirling it around exudes a certain Bond villain charm. But to me, the tulip glass—with its smaller evaporation surface—provides a delicate stage for the spirit to shine on. That said, I never met a rocks glass I didn’t like.
KG: Fair point, and I grant you the fact that a rocks glass is a real workhorse that’s never led me astray. And the tulip glass has a similar upward-trajectory factor as a snifter. But I want to feel the full base of a snifter in my palm as my hand warms the glass just slightly, opening up new flavors and aromas.
APB: The warming thing I get. But I think you’ll find a tulip glass helps to temper the more pungent fumes of the alcohol and allows you to appreciate the finer notes.
KG: Those fumes you call pungent, I call “more, please,” and I think the narrow opening of the tulip glass actually concentrates those fumes—it doesn’t temper them. Plus, that Bond villain charm with all its luxury appeals to me. I don’t know. Maybe it’s this silk robe I’m wearing.
APB: The snifter says “I’m plotting the end of Western civilization,” but the robe says “I promise to make it very, very smooth.”
KG: But okay, look... cards on the table, I’m going to drink cognac out of whatever you give me. At my house, it’s going to be a snifter because I like snifters, but at your house, maybe it’s a rocks glass, or a tulip glass, or a cereal bowl, or a terra-cotta pot. As long as there’s cognac in it, I’m not going to turn it away.
APB: In that case, would you like to come over for a terra-cotta pot of cognac?
KG: That depends. If I brought my own snifter to your house, would you let me in?
APB: I would never turn anyone away from my home bar for reasons of belief or stemware orientation.
KG: This is why we’re friends. That, and because while our glassware opinions may differ, we can both agree that the glass itself should be filled with cognac.
