IN ABOUT MY THIRD WEEK of my sobriety, I was still doing some photography work for restaurants here in New York City, taking pictures of their food for them to use on their websites and social media, some of which I built and maintained for them as well. One of the great perks of this work was that I was often allowed — if not encouraged — to eat or take home the food that they brought out from their kitchens to be photographed.

At an Italian restaurant, on one such occasion, I was presented with a after-dinner called tiramisu, one of my all-time favorite desserts. It only took the initial action of putting my spoon through the luscious layers of moist, spongy lady finger pastry, whipped mascarpone cheese, coffee, and cocoa to then smell one of its featured ingredients, marsala wine (or, in other versions, amaretto, anisette, brandy, even Grand Marnier).

It was then when it fully dawned on me that I would have to give up most, if not all, restaurant preparations of tiramisu, and that I would have to start monitoring with greater awareness which foods and otherwise innocent and innocuous beverages I would have to start avoiding.

I have of course spent enough time in A.A. and at meetings to hear people, even those with “good” time, say that they’ve allowed themselves food where the alcohol is “cooked off” (penne a la vodka, for example), and those who have argued to avoid those exact dishes since the alcohol is *never* completely cooked off.

And this holiday requires me to be extra diligent, a season when cookies may contain more than a touch of rum, our an innocent-looking egg nog or fruit punch can be secretly spiked with Kahlua or champagne.

I respect the individual choice, and as I have told fellows and sponsees, I choose to avoid the booze altogether when I can. When I was home-making some sort of pastry and smelled the vanilla extract I was using, I immediately recognized that slight, anticipatory “tingling” that radiated from the back of my neck and down through my shoulders.

That was my “Uh-oh!” moment, and as I remembered the words of my own sponsor, “You’re either moving away from a drink or closer to a drink,” I threw the extract in the trash and chose to use fresh vanilla bean for my pastries (or foods like almond paste) from that point on.

Which means that I often have to take extra mindful care of how other foods and drinks are prepared. “Are any of your restaurant’s sauces made with booze?” is a question I am now fully comfortable asking.

And I’ve asked that question while dining with other alcoholics in recovery who *do* allow themselves a “cooked off” wine-based sauce, or a bourbon pecan pie. I don’t judge their choices, I can only hope that they — or anyone — respect mine, without the need to expect them to.

I do understand that many store-bought, pre-packaged cheesecakes, let’s say, may have been made with extract. I might still check the ingredients, but will still buy one in a pinch, but more often will just pass on it outright for another food.

I don’t turn down birthday cake at a friend’s kid’s party, but I am mindful, more so than before recovery, of what may or may not have even, what some would call, a “negligible” amount of hooch in it.

And this holiday requires me to be extra diligent, a season when cookies may contain more than a touch of rum, our an innocent-looking egg nog or fruit punch can be secretly spiked with Kahlua or champagne.

Again, everyone works the A.A. program their own way. Many are more strict about staying away from alcohol in any foods or drinks, and some pay it very little mind. I post this as just my experience, and as a jumping off point to hear others experiences (and strengths and hopes) when it comes to alcohol in food and pedestrian drinks, especially over the holiday season.

Kerry C.

[Originally written December 19th, 2018]