Decanters
What could be better than a drink? I'll tell you, a drink poured from a decanter. In truth, some people choose a wine because it's got an interesting looking label. And it's a natural assumption to entertain preconceptions about the quality of a drink based on what it's poured from. If it comes out of a bottle, shiny cocktail shaker or tartan thermos flask, you are probably in for a treat. If it's being poured from some sort of novelty bottle, that is, a bottle in the shape of a landmark, fruit or, God forbid, a naughty clergyman, then sip with trepidation. If it's being poured from something labelled 'value' or 'evidence', best avoid altogether.
If it's a decanter, chances are you're at home or, if not actually at home, making yourself at home.
Decanters perform two vital functions, they smoothly pour spirits into a large glass and they make it socially acceptable to have a lot of booze piled up in the front room, readily to hand yet looking elegant in a way that a clustered field of bottles would not.
Moreover, they can be a piece of history. The best place by far to obtain a decanter is your local charity shop, where you can not only ironically make a contribution to the fight against, for instance, liver disease but can give an important artefact a new lease of life. That's why one of my decanters has 'Terry's team 1985' engraved on it. I have no idea who Terry is or what his team did in 1985 to win that decanter but I enjoy speculating as I chase down the level of booze in the thing of an evening.
Current theories include something to do with golf, armed police response or transplant surgery.
It's a straightforward square job that normally holds enough sherry to stun a cart horse or point eight of a vicar but at Christmas is pressed into use as reserve port decanter. The other reason decanters are so useful is that one can serve visitors drinks from them without the visitor seeing the label that adorned the bottle used to fill said decanter. That's the other reason why it's important to know your various different engraved decanters, one must always know which is the good stuff and which is the 'visitors' brew'.
Yet to be acquired; the ship's decanter. One of those enormous ones with a fat bottom and a thin neck that looks like an unfortunate princess. These are rather harder to come by as, I suppose, sailors are not soon parted from their vessels, especially their booze vessels.
Of course decanters have their place and that place is in the home, one's club or, on those rare occasions when needs really must and the rebels are in the embassy compound, the front line. I have seen, in a rather chi-chi shop in Burnham Market in Norfolk, picnic decanters. These were plastic replicas of their lead crystal or glass models and, while I am of course now kicking myself for not buy several, at the time I took a rather purist approach and decided that if I was going to decant on a picnic, I'd bloody well do it from a crystal jobbie. If I had been thinking clearly I would have realised that the weight saving of a plastic decanter allows another bogle of wine to be carried to the table. Moreover they would make excellent combat decanters, light and durable they would be just the right thing to bring a touch of elegance to one's fox hole as one spends the evening guzzling scotch and loosing off the occasional volley at Terry Taliban. Naturally if one were to take prisoners, one would have to have two decanters, as even the Geneva Convention does not insist on having to give the enemy the good stuff when offering him a drink.
If it's a decanter, chances are you're at home or, if not actually at home, making yourself at home.
Decanters perform two vital functions, they smoothly pour spirits into a large glass and they make it socially acceptable to have a lot of booze piled up in the front room, readily to hand yet looking elegant in a way that a clustered field of bottles would not.
Moreover, they can be a piece of history. The best place by far to obtain a decanter is your local charity shop, where you can not only ironically make a contribution to the fight against, for instance, liver disease but can give an important artefact a new lease of life. That's why one of my decanters has 'Terry's team 1985' engraved on it. I have no idea who Terry is or what his team did in 1985 to win that decanter but I enjoy speculating as I chase down the level of booze in the thing of an evening.
Current theories include something to do with golf, armed police response or transplant surgery.
It's a straightforward square job that normally holds enough sherry to stun a cart horse or point eight of a vicar but at Christmas is pressed into use as reserve port decanter. The other reason decanters are so useful is that one can serve visitors drinks from them without the visitor seeing the label that adorned the bottle used to fill said decanter. That's the other reason why it's important to know your various different engraved decanters, one must always know which is the good stuff and which is the 'visitors' brew'.
Yet to be acquired; the ship's decanter. One of those enormous ones with a fat bottom and a thin neck that looks like an unfortunate princess. These are rather harder to come by as, I suppose, sailors are not soon parted from their vessels, especially their booze vessels.
Of course decanters have their place and that place is in the home, one's club or, on those rare occasions when needs really must and the rebels are in the embassy compound, the front line. I have seen, in a rather chi-chi shop in Burnham Market in Norfolk, picnic decanters. These were plastic replicas of their lead crystal or glass models and, while I am of course now kicking myself for not buy several, at the time I took a rather purist approach and decided that if I was going to decant on a picnic, I'd bloody well do it from a crystal jobbie. If I had been thinking clearly I would have realised that the weight saving of a plastic decanter allows another bogle of wine to be carried to the table. Moreover they would make excellent combat decanters, light and durable they would be just the right thing to bring a touch of elegance to one's fox hole as one spends the evening guzzling scotch and loosing off the occasional volley at Terry Taliban. Naturally if one were to take prisoners, one would have to have two decanters, as even the Geneva Convention does not insist on having to give the enemy the good stuff when offering him a drink.
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