December dining is about connection between people, between food and wine. Pexels

The festive season is upon us—that glorious stretch of late-year sparkle when the dining rooms are full, corks are flying, and someone always starts a round of bubbles before the mains hit the table. For those of us working the floor, it’s the best kind of chaos. The energy hums, the laughter carries, and every night feels like a small celebration.

And as the sommelier, I get a front-row seat to all of it—the triumphs, the stumbles, the surprises, and the joy that a perfectly chosen bottle can bring.

Here’s something I’ve learned after years of working the floor: the guests who have the best nights aren’t necessarily the ones who know the most about wine. They’re the ones who know how to delight their sommelier. And when that happens—when there’s a spark of trust and playfulness across the table—the whole night changes. The service loosens, the wine gets better, and suddenly it feels like everyone’s in on the same great secret.

So, as you head into party season, here’s my insider’s guide to making that magic happen.

Curiosity beats knowledge every time

You don’t need to be a wine expert to drink well. In fact, some of my favourite guests are the ones who admit “I don’t really know much, but I love crisp whites and light reds.”

That’s music to my ears. It tells me you’re curious and open. With just a few clues—what you’re eating, your mood, your budget—I can do the rest. My job isn’t to test you; it’s to translate your taste into something that’ll make your night.

In December, when everyone’s feeling festive and a little adventurous, curiosity is the best thing you can bring to the table.

You don’t need to impress me

This season can make people funny about wine lists. There’s always that table where someone wants to prove they know their burgundy from their barolo. But honestly? None of that impresses your sommelier. We’ve seen it all—the bluffing, the name-dropping, the dramatic sniffing and swirling.

What does impress me is authenticity. Say “We’re having steak and fish—what would you suggest that ties them together?” or “I want something special but not serious.”

That’s where the magic happens. When you invite me into the conversation, I get to do what I love most—connect the right wine to the right moment.

Trust me (and tell me the budget)

Trust is the currency of good service. When you tell me “We’d like something interesting around $120,” it gives me freedom. I can stop guessing what’s safe and start finding what’s perfect.

The festive season is when cellars get raided and rarities come out to play. If I know your price range and what you enjoy, I’ll reach for that bottle I’ve been saving for someone who’ll appreciate it—the left-of-centre gem that’ll light up your night.

I’m not trying to upsell you, I’m trying to surprise you. That’s the fun part.

Ask questions—you’ll get stories, not sales pitches

Every wine on the list has a story—and during the silly season, I’m in the mood to tell them. The family that still hand-picks their fruit. The winemaker who farms by moonlight. The vintage that nearly broke them but somehow produced magic.

When you ask “What makes this one special?” you’re not making small talk, you’re opening a door. I promise you’ll taste the wine differently once you know the story behind it.

December dining is about connection—between people, between food and wine. Asking questions is part of that rhythm.

Speak up

Sometimes a wine just isn’t what you hoped for—too rich, too light, too… something. That’s okay. I’d rather you tell me than sit there quietly while it gathers dust in your glass.

A simple “This isn’t quite what I expected—could we try something fresher?” is all it takes. You won’t offend me. You’ll actually make my night, because it means I get another shot at getting it right. That’s why our wine list says “Life’s too short to drink sh*t booze”.

The festive rush can be frantic, but good hospitality still runs on conversation—not guesswork.

Embrace the spirit of play

This time of year, everyone’s in the mood for a little fun—and so am I. Nothing delights me more than someone saying “Surprise us with something we’d never order.”

That’s my cue to bring out the good stuff: a pét-nat that tastes like sunshine, a skin-contact white that smells of apricots and attitude, or a chilled red that turns the table into a party.

Wine should be joyful, not intimidating. When guests lean into that sense of play, it transforms the room.

Respect the ritual

There’s a quiet theatre to wine service—and it’s worth leaning into. When I present the bottle, I’m confirming your choice, not demanding a nod of authority. When I pour a small taste, it’s to check the wine’s sound, not your sophistication.

So, relax. You don’t need to sniff, swirl, or compare prices with your local bottle shop. This is hospitality—a dance we do together. When it flows, it feels effortless.

Gratitude is contagious

The festive season is long and loud for hospitality staff. We’re on our feet for 12-plus hours, our voices hoarse from describing the same wines a hundred times over. But the exhaustion melts away when a guest looks up at the end of the night and says “Thank you—that was brilliant.”

You don’t have to flatter me to make my night. What really sticks is sincerity: “That pairing was perfect,” or “I’d never have picked that, but I loved it.”

That kind of feedback fuels my work more than any Instagram tag or big spend. Those are the guests I remember when something special comes in. And come January, when the festive fizz fades and the quieter months roll in, it’s those faces I look forward to seeing again.

Remember: my goal is your joy

At the end of the day, my job isn’t to show off what I know; it’s to make your night better. To read your mood, your meal, your moment—and find a wine that fits.

Delight your sommelier, and we’ll go the extra mile every time. Because when you give us that spark of trust and curiosity, it reminds us why we love this madness—the packed dining rooms, the laughter, the endless corks, and the quiet thrill of seeing someone take that first sip and smile.

The guests I’ll never forget

When people ask who my favourite guests are, it’s never the collectors or the critics. It’s the ones who come ready to enjoy themselves—who listen, laugh, and treat wine as something to share, not show off.

Those are the guests who get the off-list pour, the cheeky taste of something new, the whispered “I’ve got something you’ll love.”

Because engaging your sommelier isn’t about showing you know wine—it’s about showing you love the experience. And at this time of year, when every night feels like a celebration, that’s what makes the whole room sparkle.