Sommelier secrets: The invisible art of wine service

How sommeliers watch for subtle cues

It’s 6 pm and the dining room at Carversteak inside Resorts World Las Vegas is picking up. Master sommelier and wine director Lindsey Geddes scans the reservation app. Tonight is busy, with early diners signalling pre-show dinners.

The dining room of this luxury steakhouse glows with mid-century modern warmth, while Dolly Parton’s ‘Islands in the Stream’ drifts through the eclectic playlist above the buzz. A freshly seated four-top settles in with a wine and cocktail list. Across the room, Geddes and her sommelier team, Matt Daro and Nina Jarlock, observe with intent.

Experience and intuition guide every move, as they watch for subtle cues: the head of the table’s confident posture, a curious glance at the wine list, and the one who quietly defers.

Geddes greets guests with a gentle smile, saying, ’Good evening...’. The sommeliers let each table find its rhythm before offering a warm greeting that puts even the most anxious diners at ease. In these first ten seconds, they gather the clues that will shape the experience.

Most guests never notice this choreography; it’s a ritual shared by sommeliers around the world, each one orchestrating service to suit the guests before them.

Reading the energy

In Paris, Agnese Morandi, head sommelier at Table by Bruno Verjus, says, ‘I observe guests – their mood, the occasion. I want them to feel comfortable, never judged, so they can relax and enjoy.’

In New Orleans, Clayton Fox, sommelier and wine director at R’evolution calls this reading of the room’s ‘general energy’.

‘Is it a happy, boisterous table? More serious? Are they open to conversation, or do they just want to confirm their biases?’ he says. Sometimes, Fox admits, ‘They don’t want to talk at all’. He keeps things casual: ‘I’m Clayton, I do the wine here’, preferring genuine connection over formality.

Geddes also forgoes the sommelier certification pin on her lapel for the same reason: to avoid intimidating guests and encourage openness.

As a wine writer, I fell in love with wine thanks to the warmth and generosity of sommeliers – transforming lengthy lists into invitations to explore. I now find myself drawn to the wine selections and their storytelling, as much as the subtle psychology unfolding around it.

Focusing on the experience

With practised intuition, sommeliers suggest pairings that elevate a meal – at Carversteak, red wine remains the go-to for steakhouse classics, matching both cuisine and guest preference.

Sometimes there’s extra flair: Matt Daro wheels out a six-litre Daou Paso Robles 2021 with theatrical tableside style.

‘Bring it closer so we can see,’ says the guest doing most of the talking, comfortably flexing his wine knowledge as the glass is poured.

Geddes and Daro listen attentively, but while one guest may drive the conversation, the sommeliers’ attention is always on the whole table. ‘We make sure to connect with everyone. The experience belongs to all,’ Geddes says.

After giving the glass a generous swirl and taking that first sip, he says, ‘Well, that’s good’. Some guests glance at the wine list, then check their phone – maybe for prices or reviews – but Geddes doesn’t mind.

‘We look up wine information, too. As long as we’re getting the guest what they want’, she says.

'You can't make assumptions'

The perspective broadens internationally.

‘You cannot make assumptions about anyone’, says Pietro Campara, head sommelier at Antica Bottega del Vino in Cortina, Italy, a newly opened location of the flagship in Verona.

‘Nowadays, customers who visit a place like Bottega del Vino almost never come to us by chance; they already have a clear idea in mind because there is also a greater circulation of information,’ he says.

Sommeliers are intuitive, often noticing cultural preferences from years of service.

‘South Americans often love smooth wines with generous fruit’, says Campara. ‘Scandinavian guests frequently ask for organic certifications. British guests can surprise you with an extraordinary depth of knowledge.’

Yet knowledge doesn’t always dictate behaviour; sommeliers adjust their approach quickly. Campara recalls a young guest ordering a rare Sassicaia just for its price, not its story – so he focused on exclusivity rather than history.

'Many guests assume we’re pushing expensive bottles'

Much of a sommelier’s craft lies in invisible decisions.

‘Chill a second bottle before they ask,’ Fox says. ‘Pour something they’d never order and comp it. Make them feel special.’ Subtle interventions shape the evening. ‘If I sense a table might linger over a second bottle, I’ll send small nibbles’, Campara explains. ‘Wine service often sets the dinner’s rhythm.’

​Despite this care, sommeliers still wrestle with perception.

'Many guests assume we’re pushing expensive bottles. We’re always working against that perception,' Fox says.

Wine service, despite its rituals, was never meant to intimidate. The sommelier’s roots trace back to medieval France as trusted stewards. Over centuries, the mission remained the same: enhance the guest’s experience, even as ceremony and symbolism evolved.

Returning to Carversteak, the role feels closer to its origins. Here, the sommelier isn’t a gatekeeper of knowledge, but an interpreter of mood, preference, and possibility.

What do sommeliers want guests to understand?

‘Trust’, says Campara. ‘We chose this profession out of passion. With trust, the satisfaction becomes mutual.’

Morandi agrees. ‘I make it exclusive for each guest. I’m here for them, and we will always find delicious possibilities and choices together.’

Reinforcing the sommelier’s role, Geddes conceived Carversteak’s wine list as more than a catalogue. Designed to engage rather than intimidate, the list invites curiosity, even play.

Among its features is a blind-tasting option, in which the sommelier fully steps into the role of guide, leading diners through discovery rather than deliberation.

Some descriptions are deliberately conversational. One wine entry reads: ‘Determined to radically lower its environmental footprint, ask Leonardo DiCaprio.’

‘It’s often the less experienced wine lovers who choose the blind tasting’, Geddes notes. ‘There’s comfort in relinquishing the pressure of selection. There is excitement in the unknown.’

At a corner booth, a guest makes a confident selection. ‘Great choice’, says sommelier Jarlock. At another table, a couple hesitates, eyes drifting between wine regions and prices, until Geddes steps in gently, discreetly offering options at different price points.

The couple settles on something in the middle. Tension is dissolved because the choice is now less intimidating.

Every night is a performance

It’s 8pm. The dining room swells toward capacity. Hours earlier, the team gathered for their pre-shift huddle, preparing for the night ahead.

Now, glasses replenished, plates are cleared and replaced. Each table has its own tempo and unique conversations. The energy is buoyant. The mood is convivial. This is service.

Yet most guests remain blissfully unaware of the silent signals, the thoughtful pairings, and the seamless service that guide their evening. Every night is a performance. That, Geddes might say, is the dance.

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