The Porto Decanter’s product description pretty much says it all. “Sure to spark conversation, these sophisticated, hand-blown serving pieces date back to 17th century Europe where they were known as Schnapps Pfeiffen,” it reads, lacking only the prerequisite “munchies” reference to all but confirm this $US40 decanter set is smoking paraphernalia waiting to happen. Even the glasses are dubious, stress on doobie, with the instructions asking wine drinkers to “cradle the bowl in your hand to warm the contents, then sip slowly through the pipe, which flows from the bottom of the glass so there is little chance for the liquids to oxidise, enhancing the flavour.” Bowls? Pipes? Porto Decanter, let us call a spade a spade. Thy name, like the BIC “flower pot” Mahoney profiled this month, is bong. [Uncommon Goods via Random Good Stuff]
Artist Etienne Meneau has made these amazing sculptural wine decanters, applying some fractal-ness to the design. As a result, they look pretty anatomical when you fill them with red wine: rather like the brachiated patterns of lungs or blood vessels. Bound to be conversation pieces at a party. Hand-made in borosilicate glass and about 60cm tall, they’re in a very limited numbered and signed edition. But vinophile mathematicians or biologists keen to get one might have to save up some cash: each 75cl carafe costs around US$3,400. [Strange Decanter]
Gooey substances such as syrup and olive oil spill all over the place with their containers’ drippy lips, but not if they’re dispensed from the no-drip two-lip pouring system from a Barcelona designer who calls himself Noro. It’s about time somebody designed one of these drip-free decanters for viscous and edible liquids, because we’ve seen a similar technique in containers of liquid laundry detergent for years. [Behance Network]
Many of our oenophile readers will dig this Riedel Amadeo Lyra Decanter, a gorgeous crystal vessel that will embrace your prized vintages in complete elegance. Now we can stop drinking that rotgut straight from the bottle, and maybe pour it into a glass or two. Or we could still quaff it straight from this curvaceous container, which resembles a Spanish porrón, spilling out a thin jet of wine for oodles of hands-free, group-drinking fun. But this carafe is much too swank for such vulgar activities.
