Champagne Dreams by Rosanna Mignacca
I’ve sipped it in the morning, I’ve savored it late at night. At rooftop parties, I’ve slipped away and enjoyed a glass alone. I’ve shared it with a special someone at an intimate dinner for two. I’ve enjoyed Aruban sunrises with friends, and parties that began at sunset and kept going late into the night, with the help of our bubbly companion. I’ve come to realize, no matter where I am, Champagne is a wonderful way to start or end the day.
Champagne wasn’t a rite-of-passage drink for me. My mother would host huge Christmas parties for our large extended family, always serving Champagne punch, complete with gleaming globes of frozen fruit juice afloat in her dazzling crystal punch bowl.
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Growing up in an Italian-American family, where spirits were simply part of the culinary festivities, that colorful Champagne in the crystal bowl was never off-limits to me, my siblings, cousins and other assorted children whose parents had dropped by. I remember one such party where I suggested that it would be a grand idea to put a football helmet on my cousin Danny, and send him down the laundry chute. One of the adults intervened before our plan was executed and a few hours later we were all sleeping amidst the coats in my parents’ room. I believe this was my first of many Champagne dreams... my bratty cousin Danny flying down three flights in the dark, wooden laundry chute. On my first visit to Boston, I stayed at the Eliot, an old apartment-style hotel in the Back Bay district. My husband and I toasted an anniversary with a bottle of Dom Pérignon as we watched a presidential debate (I can’t remember who was speaking, but they sure were hilarious). Politics never seemed so much fun or so romantic! E Top and bottom photos by Digital Vision. Facing page photo by Christine Balderas
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