Rite of passage

Last weekend I got a squash that needed to be cooked, so I made this. I have to admit it came out well and makes enough to feed a small army. Now I don't drink often. I'm not against it, but when you have parents who're alcoholics, the fun is kind of out of it. That having been said in a sauce like the pasta recipe above, there's no way around it, since a lot of the flavor is coming from it.

Buying alcohol is generally a risky procedure for me. At best, I have to deal with the embarrassment of my legal ID being questioned as a fake (I don't look my 31 years.) At worst, my ID is questioned, and I'm thrown out. (Never try to buy beer for chili with a passport.) Rarely am I buying alcohol for drinking--it's generally going into something, but one shouldn't cook with that which one isn't willing to drink.

So I approached the counter at Trader Joe's with my $3 Chardonnay, a bag of tortellini, and the penne for tonight. The clerk rang me up, handed me the receipt, and I stood there. He asked me if there were something else I needed. I came out of my trance, thanked him, and went home. This would seem unremarkable, except for the fact that it's the first time I haven't been "carded" for alcohol in the ten years since I've been able to purchase it legally.

The first few times I got carded, it was cool--I was suddenly old enough to buy my own alcohol, and I got the shiny blue ID to prove it. (Under 21 ID's/licenses in my former home state are red.) Then once I got older--around 25--it got to be annoying. I'd be out with friends, their ID would never be checked, and the waitperson would come over and ask in hushed tones if he/she could see my ID. The conversation would awkwardly stop as I'd pull the card out.

While I don't miss the hassle, it's oddly wistful to not be carded. Although who knows what will happen the next time a recipe calls for wine.