If you’ve suffered through my cooking, you know there’s certainly no meal coming from my kitchen that’s worthy of a special bottle of wine. In fact, drinking something quickly is your best method of defense. I tend to hoard long-held vintages or the Brunello procured on a magical vacation for an event where corkage is appropriate or find that rare BYOB restaurant of a certain caliber. Occasionally, I miss a drinkability window and I curse my principals and wish I’d just opened that bottle with a takeout turkey burger. Having the luxury of endless access to Long Island wine, they…

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