1990. Same kitchen. One week after the turkey incident. Chef handed me a recipe he swore nobody would ever get...

One shot. No repeats. I lost most of it somewhere in the chaos — except the moment he side-eyed me while adding what I can only describe as a criminal amount of onion and garlic to that pot.

That look said everything. The onion and garlic said the rest.

Thirty years later. Still making it. Cola on ice, not wine. Hits exactly the same.