
Well folks, this is it! I’d like to thank Wine Spectator for giving me this opportunity to write about food and wine (and for teaching me all about contractions). I’ve gotten so many things off my chest that I won’t need therapy for years! To all of you delightful and well-informed people that were kind enough to make comments on my posts—thank you.
Since this is Wine Spectator , I thought it only fair that I write least once about wine. When I was growing up, wine was consumed like food—always a part of dinner. Friends of the family would occasionally bring exceptional bottles, over which there would be so much excitement that a part of the meal might be changed or added to at the last minute to more perfectly complement the wine.
Lots of people have asked me what it was like to do the shows with "the Dad." Well, I would tell them, it was like being at home, but someone else does the dishes, and I get in trouble in front of a few million people instead of just my mom.
I grew up in a home that was often filled with people, especially at dinnertime. My parents' friends always brought food and wine to our house, and we did the same when we visited their homes. I love having guests in my home, and I am lucky to have friends who like to bring wine and home-cooked food to share.
“What’s for dinner?” I used to ask my mom that every day, and she always said the same thing: "Food." And that was the truth. We always sat down together as a family to eat. No one called it "family time," although I know now that it was family time—our time to reconnect, discuss our day, and just be together.
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