Our Spirited Marriage

When my husband and I first got together, 26 years ago today, he was 22 and I had just turned 21 a couple of weeks earlier. We were both legal, albeit barely, but a drop of the creature now and again was hardly on our list of pleasures.

As we've grown older and grown up together, though, we've begun to refine our palates. My husband led the way, exploring slivovitz (an Easter European plum brandy) when he moved abroad for a job in Europe. Slivovitz is served ice-cold, and so he kept his in the freezer. It turned out that cold bottle of slivovitz is a convenient thing to have around when one puts one's hand on the hot element of a finely engineered German stove--you know, the kind that doesn't glow orange, but stays resolutely black, giving no visual cue that's it's just waiting to roast your tender flesh.

When I joined my husband in Europe, we went through a sherry phase--the result of seeing a spate of movies in the mid-80s in which young British men eye one another over glasses of tawny spirits while saying, "Gosh!" This flirtation somehow led to a brief but intense fascination with grappa (an Italian brandy), as much for the free-form, hand-blown glass bottles as for the liquor itself.

Eventually, we found our way to wine. At first, the whole subject of wine seemed intimidating: So many regions, so many varietals! But through trial and error, and the guidance of classy friends, and a few wine classes, we began to sort out our old vine zins from our merlots from our cabernets from our clarets. (At this point, we were living in England. 'Claret' isn't something you hear a lot about in the States, but essentially it's a red Bordeaux wine.)

Our wine phase lasted a good long while, and is still ongoing. But it's branched out in recent years to include cognac--initially a challenge to learn how to taste, let along appreciate. Our current favorite: Paul Giraud V.S.O.P., a decently priced bottle that, when splashed into a snifter and warmed, opens up spectacularly.

There's been room in our spirited marriage for individual exploration as well. My husband went off to indulge in a developing taste for Scotch whiskey, while I clung to the friendlier (and, some might say, more vanilla) realm of Irish whiskey--specifically, Knappouge Castle.

It's not that I hadn't sampled Scotch whiskey: Rather, I had, though perhaps I'd dived in too deep all at once, tasting an array--everything from Talisker to Oban to Laphroaig--during a succession of Robert Burns parties over a period of several years. (My guide to all this was a handsome Scottish friend who had been born in the Highlands before moving to California for his high school years. He could swap his Levis for a kilt or his Bay Area accent for a Scottish burr with equal ease, and to great effect.)

But though I had retreated from Scotch, lingering in the realm of the oenophile, lately I've begun to appreciate Scotch once again. A recent event hosted by The Macallan (and presided over by a knowledgeable Scottish American) brought my attention to the brand's 18 year bottle--a fine single-malt that not only lives up to its reputation as one of the world's finest Scotch whiskeys, but is comparable to a good cognac.

This, I decided with the first sip, was the special gift I had been searching for as our 26th anniversary approached: The apex (thus far) of our trawl through the provinces of wines and spiritous liquors. It's also one of the world's expensive bottles of scotch, but hey: How often does your 26th anniversary roll around?

Our marriage--and every marriage like ours--has been reviled, attacked, and condemned by preachers and politicians, penalized financially and officially ignored by the government, and exploited by pernicious con men who have learned that all they have to do is write the words "GAY MARRIAGE" on a piece of direct mail to rake in the dosh from frightened and confused people who appear to think that a wedding and the cake served at the reception are one and the same, with each slice granted leaving less for others to enjoy.

But for 26 years--and across three continents--our marriage has endured and flourished. What happier occasion to raise a toast?

Slainte--good health, to our marriage and to families everywhere!