In my early twenties, I moved away from home. I cooked for my girlfriend at the time, family and friends. A quick pasta? Yes, but rather something more elaborate, so that there would still be enough time for the accompanying wine. We stood in the kitchen, cooked, drank and talked.
Then, in my mid-thirties, the Saturday scenario. Guests arrive, the cooking becomes even more elaborate, the cups are raised. The choice of drinks is an integral part of the "event". Visit the wine dealer you trust. Enjoying the intensive advice, tasting, sliding out of the shop heavily laden and elated. The best booz in your bag. In the evening, cook casually, chat eloquently (well), and reap plenty of recognition. First applause, then blackout! Not always, but more and more often. In my mid-forties, the time had come for me to rethink. Alcohol had infiltrated cooking and other areas of my life. How could I now devote myself to the subject of food without having to open a cooking wine first? I like to deal with food. I didn't become a food photographer because alcohol was flowing in the kitchen, but because cooking interested me just as much as photography since I was young. Fun fact, two professions don't exactly have abstinence in their job description. But that's another topic.