I’m making risotto. Lashings of butter and garlic sauteed. De-glazing the Carnaroli with a French white, he tells me, is made by a couple who are too young to make wine. It tastes like dry cider… aged, almondy like sherry. There is a shelf. High. Running the circumference of the kitchen. It's lined with empty bottles of wine. Each, he says, are significant. The oldest bottles he points to are Italian. A girlfriend. Another, the start of COVID. French. Early spring. He opens my Pinot to drink with supper. Then pushes me up against the counter. Bites my nipples. Spits in my mouth. Kisses me. The next morning, I take the empty bottle of American Pinot and put it on the shelf.
Danielle Connolly-Graham makes an arts publication with some friends based in Cork, Ireland. Flotsam is a free magazine without advertisement. I also make a podcast with a friend, the show mostly discusses the food industry. We are called: Two of Knives.