My older brother died without warning at the end of August.
As you might well imagine, it sent me reeling. We were planning a bucket list trip together next spring, then "poof" — he was gone. The following day, a brand-spanking-new baby boy joined the family, sending me on a roller coaster of emotions, a whiplash ride around the circle of life. This yin-and-yang 24-hour journey caught me by surprise and vulnerable to the allure of a decadent fine-dining extravaganza that appeared on my iPad.
I'm very privileged that my position with CL affords me more opportunities to revel in the joys of fine wine and gastronomy than most. But that wasn't always the case. I learned to cook haute cuisine when I didn't have two nickels to rub together. I did have a desire to explore what cooking at the highest levels was all about. Parallel with my journey to master the art of French cooking with Julia Child, I was scrimping and saving to afford a yearly trip for an early bird prix-fixe, three-course meal at a gourmet haunt near The White House.
I've spent my lifetime learning, tasting, exploring and putting an emphasis on travel and experiences above "stuff." And, I'm willing to bet when you reflect, regardless of your means and where you are upon life's journey, that many of your favorite memories involve food — memories of unalloyed joy. We're lucky that our brains allow instantaneous time travel to recall incidents long past, to resurrect friends and family that have gone before.
When I look back on items that I purchased — from cars to electronics to clothing — the memories are fleeting. They register, yet are somewhat vague. But my fine-dining experiences are firmly etched. My travels to great restaurants (or to taste wine at world-class vineyards) are as alive in my mind as if they happened yesterday.
While an exquisite wine for a special dinner may seem to be luxury that we can't afford, it's a gift that keeps on giving. The memory of a great dish is not soon forgotten. And if you taste actively, drawing on all five senses as the memory forms, then that multidimensional event is imprinted in your brain and available for healing when you need it most: in times of stress, depression, grief or any unexpected loss.
All of these sudden drops in life's roller coaster call upon our inner strength to survive until we reach the upward slope. When you've got experiences deposited in your memory bank that are vivid, fulfilling and life-affirming, you can make a withdrawal in your time of need without ever diminishing the balance on the ledger.
I long ago adopted a mantra of "peak experiences now," unabashedly and without regret. Upon reflection, it has served me very well. And for me, fine wine has been a healing vehicle in times of grief (with apologies to John Denver) to "fill up my senses like a night in the forest." Not by going on a bender, but through seductive nuances that still linger in my sense memory years later.
So this is my plea to you, as I try to right my emotional ship from the last month's perfect storm: Don't postpone joy. Embrace the things in life that bring you happiness. Take in a sunset and the afterglow for free. Add a bottle of celebratory Champagne if you wish. Don't wait for a special occasion that may never arrive. Drink the wine that you've been saving; drink it now.
When I lost my brother, I left town impulsively for a special dining experience that included rare wine pairings. It was a meal of profound beauty and sensual overload. Indeed, a "peak experience now." Yes, my wallet may be ill-advisably lighter — but my aching, grieving heart is oh-so full.
This article appears in Sep 22-29, 2016.