Two hours into dinner the last glass is still cold, and there's no ice bucket on the table.

You poured the first glass of white at 7:10, out on the balcony as the sun went down, and it was exactly right. It's still right at nine, because the cold started inside the wine instead of around the bottle — and it stays cold for up to three hours. The bottle never left the table.

Two glasses of white on a timber table on a balcony at dusk, the bottle with the cooling rod and clear spout between a charcuterie board and tea lights, fairy lights along the railing and no ice bucket in sight.

Most Fridays it goes the other way. Twenty minutes in, the bottle is standing between the plates on a balcony still holding the day's heat, sweating onto the timber. By the third round you're pouring something lukewarm and faintly sweet — and you can see it land. A guest takes a sip, sets the glass down, and doesn't pick it up again.

Once a bottle's open, it's open. There's no starting the evening over, so you get up for the fourth time to carry it back inside to the fridge, and miss the middle of somebody's story.

One question for every fix you've tried: is the last glass still cold?

The ice bucketA bag of servo ice, and the cold still sits outside the bottle, only around the lower half. The ice melts fast in the heat, the bottle comes out slippery, the label soaks through.
The fridge relayThe cold wine is in the kitchen fridge or the esky, not at the table. And so are you.
Ice in the glassCold for ten seconds, watered down after one sip.
The cooling sleeveOn a warm night it gives up the moment it has warmed through itself.
The freezer sprintYou forget it's in there.

The bucket was never wrong. It just solved the wrong half of the problem. Not one of them keeps cold inside the bottle on the table.

A bottle of white in a melting ice bucket on the kitchen table, water pooling across the timber.

Glass is a poor conductor. That is the whole problem.

Cold that starts on the outside has to cross the bottle wall before it reaches anything you will pour, and it rarely makes it to the middle. Lift the bottle out of the ice and the warm evening air gets straight back to work on it.

Cold that starts inside the wine has no distance to travel. It sits in the core of the bottle and meets every glass you pour. That is Core Chill.

1Cold has to cross the glass.
2Cold that starts in the wine has no distance to travel.

The thing that does it is a rod of 304 food-grade stainless steel with a pour channel running through it. About an hour in the freezer, then down into the bottle you already opened: serving temperature in 10 to 15 minutes, and it stays cold for up to three hours. The Lindner & Co Wine Cooling Stick.

See why it stays cold →

Three steps, and the bottle stays where it is.

It lives in the freezer

About an hour the first time. After that it is simply there when you want it.
Into the bottle you already opened

Fits standard 750ml bottles, screw caps too.
Pour through the spout

The bottle stays on the table between glasses. Nothing to refill, nothing to drain, no bag of ice to fetch.

The clear spout airs the wine as you pour and doesn't drip on the table.

A hand setting the stainless steel cooling rod on the freezer shelf next to the ice cube trays, ready for dinner.

What people ask before they believe it lasts

Can one piece of metal really keep a whole bottle cold?

Steel moves cold quickly, and this steel sits in the wine rather than outside the bottle: serving temperature in 10 to 15 minutes, and it stays cold for up to three hours. It is a rod of 304 food-grade stainless steel with a hollow pour channel.

Won't it water down my wine the way ice does?

Nothing melts, so no water reaches the wine. Only cold steel and the bottle you chose.

Do I have to keep carrying the bottle back to the fridge?

No. The bottle stays out on the table with everyone else, and the stick stays in it between glasses.

Buy one, get one free — two complete kits

Two cooling sticks, two spouts, two stoppers. One on the table, one still frozen in the freezer — and that spare goes home with the first guest who wants to know where it came from.