"Hi, Mrs. West. It's nice to see you too." I turn to my mom. "And I need to run because if I don't, I won't fit in any of my clothes by next week."
My mom raises her hands. "Shoot a woman for wanting to cook for her son when he returns home after ten years."
I pull her in for a hug. "Thank you for all your wonderful food, Mom."
"I don't think Skyler could survive away from my cooking very long. He sure does put away all the food he can get his hands on. Then again, he needs it…" she pauses, and her smile leaves her for a moment. "He works so hard. Sometimes I wish he didn't have to…anyway… How are you? Are you back to stay?"
"I'm not sure," I say, and then look at my mom, who's now lost her smile.
In the same way that we haven't talked about why I'm back home, we also haven't talked about my plans. And that's because I don't have any.
For the first time in my life, I want to make a decision that isn't fueled by how someone makes me feel. I don't want to do it out of hurt or spite. I want to do it for me because it's the right thing.
"I've gotta go."
"So early?" my mom asks.
"Yeah, I'm giving a wine-tasting class." The thought gives me a rush of energy. I always get a kick out of sharing my knowledge and seeing people learn and improve. Since I'm not in a kitchen anymore, this is the next best thing.
I give my mom a kiss and grab my salad box.
"See you in the morning, Mom. Nice to see you again, Mrs. W."
Renting a car is a necessity that I resent. I'd happily walk to work, but late at night when I'm at the bar until we close, it's not as nice walking back home in the freezing-cold darkness.
I find a parking spot a couple of blocks away from Church Street.
Tanner lets me in through the loading bay door since the bar is still closed. I'm earlier than everyone else, so I can set up.
"I put a few tables together, and there's a tray with clean glasses out there," Tanner says. "I'm going to run over to The Maple Factory to grab a couple of boxes of crullers. I can't have half-drunk bartenders, even if it is a quiet weekday."
I laugh and realize those are the most words I've heard Tanner say. "I'm sure they'll appreciate it, but they'll be tasting the wine, not drinking it."
He raises a brow that tells me maybe fifty percent of the wine will not be spit back into the glasses.
I start by opening the bottles of red to let them breathe and then arranging my display first by region and then in the order they'll be tasting them.
Thirty minutes later, I feel nervousness settling in, but also excitement that I get to talk about one of my favorite topics. I'd give anything to talk about food or do a cooking demonstration, but sometimes you take what you’re given.
"Unlike foreign wines, which are labeled according to the grape used, French wines are labeled according to the soil on which they were produced," I say, pointing to the different groupings of bottles.
"I thought it was all about the grapes," Rainn says.
"The orientation of a vineyard toward the sun, the humidity of the region, and temperature variations are what alter the flavor of the wine. If you plant the same variety of grape in different regions, you end up with different tasting wines. The type of grape is only one of the factors that determine the taste, acidity, and even alcohol level of the wine."
We have limited time, so after my introduction, we get to the tasting part. I love watching everyone's face as they taste the wines and try to determine the flavors that come through on their palate.
Surprisingly, there's very little actual drinking. I suspect it would be a different outcome if we were tasting cider or ale.
When we’re done, everyone helps clean up, clearing the mess in no time with the promise of free crullers.
I pass on the crullers, but I should eat something before my shift, so I grab my salad from the staff refrigerator.
"Thank you for that session. It was really informative," Tanner says.
"Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed this." I scratch the back of my neck. "It may not surprise you, but as a chef, tending bar isn't…the same."
He taps my shoulder. "Sometimes an unexpected change is the shortcut to finding what you need." He has the night off, so he leaves me to think about his parting words before going upstairs to the place he shares with his boyfriend, Jax.
