D. D. Wanted
I'm trying to lay off the booze for Lent. So far so good. But today I had a problem: I was making a braised short rib ragù with red wine. There was about a glass left in the bottle, and I really couldn't add anymore to the sauce. As I worked in the kitchen, I could hear the remaining wine whispering softly, "Gene, I'm lonely over here: come keep me company, big guy." Luckily, a friend showed up. "Joe, have a glass of wine," I pleaded. He accepted... and the danger on the rocks was surely passed. And then I realized what I need for the next 36 days: a designated drinker! I can still go to bars. When my buddy says, "Gene, let me buy you a shot," I say, "Sure thing! Thanks." After it is poured, I hand it off to Joe (say), who slugs it down for me. I can still invite my wife out for a nice candlelit dinner with a bottle of champagne, toast to our marriage... and then hand the glass off to Joe. In the old days, I could have even had...