Sixpack Sez

Feb. 23, 2007 | How do I love a beer glass? Let me count the ways

AROUND MY house, I have a simple philosophy: Glass breaks.

When a favorite coffee cup or beer mug shatters to the floor - even a cherished pint glass that I've owned for years and fits my hand like a glove, and I told that idiot not to sit it on the edge of the poker table - I won't shed a tear.

Yeah, it's a bummer. But whaddya gonna do? I mean, if it wasn't supposed to break, it wouldn't be made of glass, right?

It's a philosophy that's served me well. It's also the reason Mrs. Sixpack won't let me anywhere near the Waterford crystal we got for our wedding.

And it's the reason I'm having a tough time getting a handle on the new Samuel Adams Boston Lager pint glass.

This is a glass that, the press release says, "offers beer lovers a full sensory drinking experience..." It was designed by "sensory experts" whose marching orders were to:

• Deliver sweetness from the malt.

• Maximize the hops aroma and flavor.

• Maintain ideal temperature.

• Support a rich and creamy head.

• Sustain proper carbonation.

It features a "unique angled lip" to deliver the beer to a precise point on the palate. The neck helps sustain the head. The narrow base reduces the impact of heat from the hand. A "laser-etched nucleation site within the glass maintains flavor release during the drinking experience," and the rounded body refracts the light to showcase the beer's amber color.

It's got everything - except it's not unbreakable.

This seems like an awful lot of effort to put into something that inevitably will disintegrate into a thousand shards.

Don't get me wrong: I completely buy into the notion that proper glassware enhances the enjoyment of beer. A foamy German hefeweizen absolutely tastes better in a tall, thick, bulbous glass. A tulip glass just invites you to dip your nose into an aromatic Belgian golden ale.

Likewise, when I gave the new Samuel Adams glass a road test, it handled nicely. The lager looked inviting, forming a perfect head to the rim. I didn't notice any improved hops aroma. But the beer flowed over the shapely lip and spilled onto the tongue a centimeter or so deeper than with a standard pint glass. I don't know if that made it taste any better, but it disappeared pretty quickly.

But none of that guarantees it a spot in my regular beer glass rotation. That's because those sensory experts can't design the one thing that makes a truly great beer glass: a personality.

A great beer glass is a friend. It is comforting and comfortable. It's there when you need it. It has a story.

One of my favorites is a "Bud Bowl" pint glass I picked up at the Anheuser-Busch brewery in Jacksonville, Fla., during Super Bowl week 2005. It's never held a Bud, but it did hold my hand after the Eagles lost to the Pats.

I have a set of tiny Birra Moretti glasses - they might be 7 ounces. They're the perfect size for sharing a beer with a pal.

And that small Cantillon glass? Yeah, it's great for gueuze, but I love it because brewer Jean-Pierre Van Roy gave it to me and proudly told me it was on the cover of a Michael Jackson beer guide.

Rodenbach makes a unique, oblong glass for its Redbach. I don't much like the cherry-flavored ale, but the glass is as heavy as a paperweight and tells me it's ready for a serious session.

One of my go-to glasses is actually from Sam Adams. It's a dimpled British mug that handles like an MG. It's great for gulping ice-cold lagers without freezing your hand.

Some of my favorites don't have logos. There's a heavy goblet I drink from at dinnertime; whenever I pull it out and fill it up, it makes even a Swanson's frozen dinner taste like a gourmet meal.

It's all very capricious, I understand. I'm sure you have your own reasons for your favorite glass. That's the nature of a relationship, even one that's doomed to break apart. You choose your partner just because it feels good.

No one can design that for you.