Wine

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.

“That’s disgusting!”

I shrugged. “Some people like it.”

“Uck,” my oldest said. “It’s horrible!”

“Yeah,” his little brother added. “Why do ladies drink it?”

Um. Ladies?

Note to self: never drink a glass of red wine in front of the kids.

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