This post is part of our 'This Is Fire' series, where our editors and writers tell you about the products they can't live without in the kitchen.
To any true whiskey lover, the phenomenon of dilution—the introduction of water to one's whiskey—is both a mechanism of enjoyment and a danger to be avoided. On the one hand, many whiskeys absolutely love a few drops of water to open up their bouquets and palates; this type of controlled, minimal dilution can be essential to fully appreciating a whiskey's complex flavors. At the same time, excessive dilution is a whiskey lover's worst nightmare—melting ice, the usual culprit, can turn the sturdiest of whiskeys into an insipid watery soup with just a few minutes of inattention.
The benefits in dilution-reduction are easy to intuit—but to leave it there would be to ignore one of the Whiskey Wedge's best attributes, which is its striking appearance.
The single large ice cube (or “big rock”) is often proposed as a fix to the dilution crisis, as one single cube exposes far less ice surface area to the spirit than multiple small cubes; to that end, spherical ice reduces the surface area further still. But what if it were possible to diminish the surface area even further—perhaps even to the point where only one side of the ice form was in contact with the whiskey? Enter the Corkcicle Whiskey Wedge.
Corkcicle Whiskey Wedge Glass
Easy to use, easy to clean
Innovative approach to limiting dilution
Ice will eventually melt
Must remember to prep in advance
As a concept alone, the Whiskey Wedge is pretty inspired: a glass containing a snugly-inset ice cube that fits flush up against the sides of the glass, so that only a single edge of the ice is exposed to the spirit. The benefits in dilution-reduction are easy to intuit—but to leave it there would be to ignore one of the Whiskey Wedge's best attributes, which is its striking appearance. With the exposure edge of the ice set at a jaunty diagonal angle, the visual effect of the glass once filled with the drink (especially a brown spirit) is really something to behold.
The mechanism of the Whiskey Wedge is very straightforward: you insert the special silicone ice mold into the included glass, you press down for a snug fit, and you fill it with four ounces of water. Then it's just a matter of freezing the whole apparatus for a few hours (Corkcicle recommends three), and the Whiskey Wedge is ready to receive your favorite spirit. (Yes, of course you can create the same basic effect by just filling a rocks glass halfway with water and sticking it in your freezer, but it comes out looking uneven and just generally weird ... take it from someone who's tried it a half-dozen times.)
Are there downsides to the Whiskey Wedge's design? Well, after some period of time, the ice will melt enough that it begins to separate from the walls of the glass, at which point you've simply got a large triangular piece of ice in your whiskey. But it does take a fair bit of time before that occurs. (And, for anyone keeping track, said ice triangle will have one fewer side on it than would a similarly-sized cube.) Honestly, the only real downside of the Whiskey Wedge is that you kind of have to remember to keep it filled and in the freezer so that its minimal-dilution chilling properties are at your disposal the next time you find yourself thirsty.
Allay your fears with the only single-surface dilution device that we're aware of, which buys you as much time as possible to enjoy your pour.
Dilution giveth and dilution taketh away—and whiskey lovers the world over know they're playing with fire anytime they let a piece of ice anywhere near their favorite tipple. Allay your fears with the only single-surface dilution device that we're aware of, which buys you as much time as possible to enjoy your pour. The fact that it makes your bourbon-on-the-rocks look all cool and futuristic is just, shall we say, a little extra char on the barrel.
Dimensions: 4” x 2” | Volume: 750 Milliliters | Weight: 1 pound | Material: Glass and silicone
Why Trust Spruce Eats
Jesse Porter is a longtime wine and spirits writer whose glassware collection has grown substantially in the past decade due to his gradual acquiescence to the idea that the practice of swigging one’s booze directly from the bottle, while perhaps displaying the maximum degree of unbridled devotion to the hedonistic appreciation of the yields of the vine, is less than optimal vis-a-vis the practice of thorough and critical evaluation.