Fight Night!: Highball/Collins Glasses
Barware, Collins Glasses, Fight Night! 14 Comments »Let's start with a definition; the Collins glass is named after the London waiter named John Collins, who served a mixture of genever gin, lemon juice, sugar, and water in the 19th century to his patrons in a glass that now shares his name . Well, isn't that spiffy? Yes, but what is it?! How do I know I have a Collins glass in my hand versus a highball, or delmonico, or zombie, or, or…
shush, will you? It's a fine question though, and I wish I had a straight and unequivocal answer for you, but alas, I'm a relativist, and here we are. Near as I can tell and from what I can find it's primarily a matter of both shape and volume. Let's take a look:

As you can see, both are chimney-style glasses and there's a generally accepted cut-off at 12oz which defines it as either a highball or collins. There is also a chimney-shaped glass in the 5-8oz range called a 'delmonico' or 'fizz' glass but they're rarely seen or used anymore. The form factor is important in that a double-old fashioned glass is usually 8-12oz like a highball but is shorter and stockier and has more of a bucket-shaped build. And, should I ever catch you making a drink which calls for a highball glass in a an old-fashined style glass I will most definitely come put the hurt on you. Why, you ask? Well, you're more likely to use a straw with the chimney-styled glasses and more likely to stir (with a sip/stirrer thingy) and drink from the side (and get an up-close and personal experience with the drink's garnish) using a bucket-style. So, you see, form meets function in the cocktail world too. Read More »
It’s my understanding that
First, a confession; I love soda siphons. There's something in me that is just inexorably drawn to them. Whether it's a fascination with the mechanics of how they work, the way they hearken to a time when mustachioed bartenders spritzed from heavy glass and chromed siphons before these damned soda guns, or that there's a little boy in me that imagines terrorizing everyone within three feet of me with one; I just love the things. They're one of those things I could see myself collecting vintage and rare versions of, greeting guests at my home with a slightly sheepish and creepy, 'So, would you like to see my siphon collection?', gently tugging them towards inevitable discomfort and grudging interest towards my shelves of seltzer bottles. So, it was with many desperate and in no way subtle pleas that I let my wife know in no uncertain terms that a Soda Siphon was what I was getting for Father's Day this year. And, I did. 





