Have we reached ‘Peak Can’? Eliza Dumais on the supposed joys of aluminium

Alas, the can epidemic surges onward. In the year of our lord 2025, there is nothing that Big Beverage will not put in a can: kombucha, martinis, cold brew, water. And it comes as no surprise that wine falls at the top of the list of trending can-able substances. But, for all its proliferation, to what degree are we meant to take it seriously?

‘If you wanna drink out of a can, why not just drink anything else?’ one bartender inquired when I addressed the subject. ‘Does wine really need to be made more convenient?’

For the sake of candour, I’ll admit: I, personally, am of the opinion that just about nothing in the history of potable fluid tastes better in a can. But flavour is not all that’s lost when you forgo the traditional bottle and stemware approach.

For one thing, there’s the matter of poetics. You need not be a particularly precious individual to recognise the inherent ceremony in sharing a bottle. In arriving at someone’s door armed with the graceful glass totem. In admiring the lovely symmetry in comparative bottle shapes, wax seals, the exhale of sound that arises when a cork is wrenched free.

I believe it was Plato who once said that while corks and screw-tops are both fine and good, you’re far more likely to get lucky if you opt for the former. With an aluminium can tab, perhaps less so.

Nonetheless, the trend is alive and well – rampant, even. According to Straits Research, the global canned alcoholic beverages market size was valued at $11.23bn in 2023 and is allegedly expected to reach $55.82bn at a minimum in 2032. And it goes without saying the benefits are manifold. Regarding weight, cans are lighter, requiring far less energy to ship (lower fuel consumption).

Further, the Wine Institute, an industry association of California wineries, reports that glass bottles account for 29% of wine’s carbon footprint – without factoring in transportation. On that note, on average, aluminium cans are recycled in the US at just over 50%, while glass bottles are only recycled at around 39%, according to the Aluminium Association.

From a consumer perspective, there are also upshots aplenty. With a can, you need not bother with all the cumbersome paraphernalia bottled wine demands: Glasses, wine keys, stoppers. The list goes on. They’re lighter, cheaper, easier to store, and easier to drink in just about any rogue environment you can conceptualise: The beach, the park, an EDM festival, Dave & Busters, Aspen, the Long Island Railroad, church, the circus.

They’re well suited to planes, trains and automobiles. For the solo drinker, they offer a single-serve dosage (you need not open a full bottle just to watch it descend into its mousey fate). And golly isn’t the packaging cute?!

Then again, for the naysayers – of which there are many – there is equal and opposite pushback. ‘Why a sommelier will never drink canned wine,’ reads the subject line of a PR pitch that arrived in my inbox just last week… the likes of which opens with: ‘This sommelier thinks drinking canned wine is like drinking out of a trash can.’

However indelicate, he’s not exactly alone in the sentiment. For countless wine professionals or consummate, credentialed drinkers, the format eliminates ageing potential and hinders the nose (whereby any aromatics are meant to waft from a pinprick hole).

Flavours skew tinny, for obvious reasons – and worst of all, you’ll occasionally crack open a can with the distinct smell of rotten egg. This does, of course, have an explanation: sulphites in wine can react to aluminium cans, which creates hydrogen sulphide, thus releasing that recognisable rotten egg smell.

That said, even the most prestigious of polled wine personnel admitted to the fact that a single-serving can makes for an excellent nightcap or solo drink. That they travel easily. They’re accessible and affordable. And right now, you can even buy honest-to-god Chablis in a can.

‘Listen, cans are great for the…