Sometimes I think about how crude silverware is — even the most modern, elegant Scandinavian-designed flatware.
Forks, knives and spoons are primitive tools at their core. They’re made of metal, and we use them to pin down, cut, scrape and scoop up food, and then we insert them into our mouths. It doesn’t keep me awake at night, but I do think it’s strange that we so willingly lick various forms of metal — often the same material we use to make bridges and trailer hitches — on a regular basis.
But flatware would be tough to improve on, which is probably why its basic structure hasn’t changed in so many years. This brings me to another simple-at-its-core tool that, for some reason, companies think they can make better: the corkscrew. But do you really need any of the sequels out there?
One device that regularly finds its way into my hands at family parties is the electric wine opener. It requires the operator to simply press a button and hold it down, sending the screw (aka the worm) down into the cork and then back up, extracting the cork. It works pretty well. Until it loses its charge. And there’s a power outage. And your generator is out of fuel, and it’s a major holiday, and all of the gas stations are closed. It could happen.
I have effortlessly lifted, lowered and re-lifted the handles of lever-style openers, the Rabbits of the world, and frustratingly fumbled with cheap imitations of them. The good ones work fine, but to me, removing a cork with that kind of machine is like slicing off a pat of butter with a laser.
The wing corkscrew — the one reminiscent of a beautiful angel or a long-armed, menacing alien, depending on your mindset — is easy to use but certainly not the most efficient opener. You might find yourself muscling a cork out even after you’ve lowered the rack-and-pinion arms, and what’s the point of an opener that promises to finish the job and then changes its mind?
A worm with a single bar across the top, forming a T-shape, or even a worm with an oval handle? That’s probably not the corkscrew for you, but you’d know that after one look. Those bicycles with the giant front wheel? Same school of thought.
For me, there is nothing better than a simple fold-up “waiter’s friend,” the age-old opener that looks like a pocket knife. It’s small, easy to use, and the choice of sommeliers. If it’s good enough for people who open wine bottles for a living, it’s good enough for you and me at home. Make sure to get a “two-stage” or “double-hinged” model, which will have two sets of prongs to catch onto the lip of the wine bottle. Don’t mistake the bottle opener for a second set of prongs. The bottle opener will be closest to the main hinge of the device, and the prongs will be below it when everything is folded and the worm is facing down. There’s also a little retractable blade for cutting the foil capsule that covers the cork. (More on that below.)
For old and fragile corks that could crumble like blue cheese under the torque of a traditional worm, some folks rely on a two-pronged cork puller, colloquially known as an “ah-so.” While the prongs of a waiter’s friend look like fangs, the prongs of an ah-so are long and slender, extending downward from a handle, making the whole thing look vaguely like the symbol for pi. The only real difference is that where there is a horizontal line across the top of pi, there is an oval handle, for pulling, on the ah-so. But if you have a need for an ah-so, you probably already have one.
Of course there are devices to help remove sparkling wine corks too. Some of them sit on top of the cork and are reminiscent of a Calder sculpture, while others look like pruning shears or the plier-esque cracking tool that arrives with your bib when you order a whole lobster. Follow your heart, and get all of the gadgets you think you need, but if you’d rather keep it simple, a hand towel and a firm grip will get the cork out of your bubbly pretty much every time.
About that foil capsule. A foil cutter — yet another gadget — does a fine job of slicing off the top of a capsule and exposing the cork, but the little blade on a waiter’s friend can do a similarly clean job. Ever since I saw a server dig the knife of his waiter’s friend into the bottom of the foil and pull upward, removing the entire capsule in one move, I haven’t had a need for a foil cutter. Whichever technique you use, make sure you can see the cork before the worm goes into it. In other words, if you are still plunging your worm straight through the foil and pulling the cork up through it, leaving the top of your bottle looking like a detonated stick of cartoon dynamite, it’s time to stop. Tonight. If you have the patience to untwist a loaf of bread and extract two slices without ripping open the cellophane, you can certainly remove part or all of a foil capsule from a bottle of wine.
Twitter @pour_man
