I was cooking up some mushrooms the other day, grilling them in a pan with butter and decided to add some red wine to jazz them up. Neither my wife nor I drink wine, so we have a fair stock in the fridge, leftover from social gatherings. I selected a bottle that looked nice and popped the cork.
Pouring wine straight out of the bottle into the pan seemed like a bad idea, so I filled up a glass and used that to add the wine to the cooking mushrooms, guesstimating how much would be needed.
Afterwards, I had a quarter inch or so left in the bottom of the glass – and two very curious kids watching me.
“Here,” I handed the glass to my oldest son. “Try it.”
“Really?” He’s in 5th grade, and, outside of church, has never had alcohol. “What about Mom?”
“She won’t mind. Just take a taste. Let me know what you think.”
“Wow.” He tipped the glass so a little went onto his tongue. His whole face transformed into a mask of horrified disgust. “Blech!”
“Can I try?” his little brother asked. “Can I?”
“Sure.” I handed the glass to him, and he had almost exactly the same reaction.
I shrugged. “Some people like it.”
“Uck,” my oldest said. “It’s horrible!”
“Yeah,” his little brother added. “Why do ladies drink it?”
Note to self: never drink a glass of red wine in front of the kids.