If you ever find yourself in Spain and see people drinking from a glass mash up of a French horn, Erlenmeyer flask and a watering can, you’re about to have a good time. It’s called a porrón, a centuries-old Catalonian glass decanter that’s built for communal drinking; think of it as a more refined wineskin.
I remember my first encounter. Mesmerized, I watched a group guzzle from this exotic object. Round and round they went, passing it to their neighbor, each attempting to drink from it, wine dripping from their chins.
My friends and I had to be a part of it. I signaled our server, and a porrón filled with cava and orange bitters soon appeared.
I turned the spout toward my lips, and with my head back tried to stream the liquid into my mouth, taking special care to adhere to the one and only rule of porrón: Never let it touch your lips. Within seconds, I was drinking a little bit of wine, while most of it trickled—nay, waterfalled—down the front of my shirt.
Determined, we kept at it. After a few more spills and lots of laughter, we finally had the pour down pat, and a new tradition was born among friends.