Why wine bottles have an indent at the bottom

There’s a small ritual in opening a bottle of wine. You twist, uncork, and maybe smile at the soft pop that follows. What’s often overlooked, however, is what rests beneath your fingertips as you lift the bottle: a quiet concave curve tucked into the bottom. It’s called a punt—and it’s not just for show.

In a world that increasingly notices design, this small detail has sparked curiosity among casual sippers and seasoned sommeliers alike. Why is it there? Does it help the wine, the pour, or simply the myth of refinement? This isn’t just about a dimple in the glass. It’s about how centuries of tradition, perception, and utility shape what ends up on your dinner table.

At first glance, all wine bottles may look the same. You have the neck, the body, the closure. But the punt—formally known as the “kick-up”—adds an architectural dimension to an otherwise familiar object. The punt sits at the base, conical or domed inward, cradled in glass. Its presence doesn’t change the contents of the bottle, but it changes how the bottle behaves—both in your hand and in storage.

“There’s a standard to the silhouette,” says Nicole Kearney of Sip & Share Wines. “But even within this standard, the depth, width, and shape of the punt vary across wine types.” Burgundy, Bordeaux, Riesling—all may carry different glass colors and base designs. And those differences often say more about what we expect from wine than what wine expects of us.

A punt serves many purposes, some functional, some performative. In its earliest form, it wasn’t about elegance—it was about stability. Historically, punts were a byproduct of how bottles were made. Glassblowers would push in the base of the bottle to eliminate sharp edges and ensure it could stand upright. Over time, this artifact of utility became associated with quality. But the punt does more than just hold history.

Its indented shape lets sommeliers and servers pour with control—index finger inside the punt, other fingers under the base. The bottle moves like an extension of the hand. In high-end service settings, it’s less about speed and more about grace. Then there’s the sediment story. In aged reds or Champagne, the punt helps settle sediment into a ring along the base, allowing for cleaner decanting. Is that benefit still relevant for modern, filtered wines? Maybe not. But the logic remains: form creates intention, even if only a few notice.

If you’ve picked up a wine bottle and noticed it lacks a punt, don’t worry—it’s not broken. It’s budgeted. Including a punt adds cost. It changes how the bottle is blown, affects the glass thickness, and slightly increases materials and handling logistics. “You’ll rarely see it on budget wines,” says Keith Wallace of the Wine School of Philadelphia. “Because the glass needs to be thicker and stronger, adding a punt creates a subtle signal of higher quality.”

And that’s where perception slips into play. In a market where wine can cost $5 or $500, visual cues matter. A heavy bottle with a deep punt suggests gravity, aging potential, or exclusivity—even if the wine inside is identical to its flatter-bottomed cousin. It’s a gentle trick of the hand.

Here’s the truth: the punt doesn’t change the chemical structure, aging rate, or flavor profile of your wine. But it does affect experience. And in wine, experience matters. Some argue it helps sediment settle. Others say it makes the bottle easier to hold or stack. For Champagne, the punt’s curvature helps absorb internal pressure from carbonation—here, the indent serves a clear safety and engineering purpose.

But in most still wines, the punt is a design echo. It whispers tradition, hints at quality, and supports performance—but doesn’t dictate outcome. “The presence of a punt doesn’t make a wine better,” says Chris Cree, one of just 53 Masters of Wine in the US. “But bottles that have them are often more expensive, so people associate them with better quality.” In this way, the punt is like a well-designed table. It doesn’t make the meal taste better—but it sets the tone.

Wine has always lived in the space between fact and fiction. We swirl, we sniff, we sip. We speak of legs and notes and terroir. In truth, what we’re often tasting is story. The punt, for all its practicality, adds to this theater. It’s a small, unspoken flourish. A signal that the bottle—and by extension, the moment—is meant to be lingered over.

In an era of screw caps and boxed wine, there’s still something pleasingly analog about a glass bottle with an elegant indent. It invites you to cradle it differently. To pour with pause. To wonder, if only for a second, why someone thought this shape mattered.

If you’re choosing wine based on the depth of its punt, you’re not alone—but it’s worth pausing. Heavier glass means higher carbon emissions in shipping. Deep punts often accompany thicker bottles, which weigh more and require more energy to produce and recycle. Some sustainable wine producers are opting for flatter bases and lighter bottles to reduce their footprint.

It’s also worth considering how often bottle aesthetics override practical impact. If you’re gifting, a punted bottle may impress—but if you’re buying for regular home use, lighter designs are often more eco-aligned. Some vineyards now label the carbon output per bottle to nudge better choices.

In the end, sustainability isn’t about guilt—it’s about designing small, repeatable shifts that feel good to use and easy to sustain. Choosing wine with less glass doesn’t make the occasion less special. It just makes the system that much kinder. And over time, those quieter choices shape new norms. You don’t need to compromise elegance—you just need to redefine it.

The next time you open a bottle, take a moment to feel the base. Whether it’s flat, domed, or sharply curved, that shape holds more than air. It holds echoes of craftsmanship, function, tradition, and perception. It reminds us that design is rarely neutral—and often says more about us than it does about the product. The punt is a quiet gesture in a louder world. It doesn’t beg attention. But for those who notice, it’s a small reminder that everyday objects carry long histories—and that even the most functional design can feel poetic, if you let it.

Maybe that’s the beauty of it: wine asks you to slow down—not just in drinking, but in noticing. To consider the curve beneath your palm as part of the whole experience, not just packaging. In that still moment between uncorking and pouring, design becomes ritual. And ritual, when repeated with care, becomes memory. Even something as simple as an indent can be an invitation—to hold with intention, to sip with awareness, and to live just a touch more presently.