Sauced In New York Sometimes the food is in the sauce, sometimes we are
Rites of passage are usually celebrated moments: graduation, marriage, getting a coveted job or promotion.
And then there are those rites of passage that just happen without our being aware.
When did it happen that I began to walk around a puddle, instead of detouring directly through it?
When did the smell of bubble gum become gross? When did I stop blowing bubbles with gum?
When did brussel sprouts move into the “can be tempting” category of food?
When did 10 pm become “late”?
When did I start throwing away the stored grease that accumulates from the delicious bacon on Sunday morning?
When did it become more fun to sit and talk than to go out and play a game?
When did I become señora in Spain, instead of señorita? It had nothing to do with a wedding ring.
When did I stop gulping down cold milk on a hot summer’s day?
CONVERSELY:
When did I start buying wine that I liked instead of wine that was cheap?
When did wine substitute the milk out at dinner?
When did I learn to taste “hints of leather” in wine? (Okay, never. Still hasn’t happened. I like it or I don’t like it.)
I wonder what the next unnoticed rites of passage will be. As I ponder that thought tonight, I will pull out a great bottle of red wine, complex and full bodied. It is the perfect evening for quiet talk and red wine. A roaring fire and a sleeping yellow lab make the mental picture perfect.
