THE salmon marinated in crushed ginger, minced scallions, sesame oil and sake was warm and fragrant from the grill pan. My take on sushi rice with chopped parsley and green olives was not a disaster, thank goodness. The votive candles in their blue glass holders refused to be snuffed out by the evening breeze. Even the sky was cooperating, allowing fragments of moonlight to slip onto my little terrace.

The morning had been chaotic; the hours before dinner absolutely frazzling. I had changed my dinner menu midstream because the chicken man said he had run out of chicken breast. The sushi rice refused to come together (so I spooned them instead into my blue-and-white Japanese rice bowls). And then I discovered I no longer had a wine bucket after the one I had disappeared after a wine session. But my dear friend and dinner guest had brought the wine bucket—and the wine, too. And after poached chicken thighs (there was no chicken breast, remember?) and apples on baby romaine in the kitchen while the salmon was cooking, we were finally on the terrace, raising our glasses in a toast to the year that was to come. “To friendship!” We threw in love and prosperity, too—and took the first excited sip of the 1993 Dom Ruinart Blanc de Blancs. Relief. The Champagne was more than good. It had been almost forgotten, resting quietly in someone else’s wine cellar. How could a 14-year-old wine taste this vivid? Malty and biscuity with a faint mocha and caramel finish. We marveled at the magic of vintage Champagne—and at how lucky we were to be drinking it at all, under a star-studded sky.

It is a year-end ritual. The wine, the dinner, the gift-giving—and the girl talk. Two “bachelorettes” (“my bachelorette neighbor” was what the nice old man who lived next door called me, until he passed away) catching up on the latest headlines in their harried lives. We had met three years ago at a winetasting session and had become fast friends soon after that. Lorelei Ann and I had cried over lost loves and opportunities. Taken swipes at the overbearing and the Scrooges we knew. Laughed hysterically at the antics of the snobs and attention-getters we’ve encountered. Celebrated our triumphs, big and small. Traded books, exercise regimens and shopping tips. All these shared over a glass of wine at some restaurant—and at least once a year, over a special bottle on my terrace. What singular moments have we had with wine? Plenty. And more good than bad, we both agreed.

Like Lorelei Ann’s rare tête-à-tête with her dad at her birthday dinner, the wine she cannot now recall, except that it was Spanish. There was the time she had 18 glasses of Taittinger NV and was still up on her feet for dancing and cheese fondue afterward. Or that time she skillfully parried the advances of a hopeful suitor with more wine and wine talk. I had a dinner date that turned into a disaster, all because of a waitress who had gotten our order wrong, and the weird, baseless Champagne flutes we had to hang on a wire stand. I remember the split bottle of Mumm, a farewell gift from the airline crew, and how I tried not to cry lest my mascara cause raccoon eyes. (I drank it the following year—with that same man in the disastrous date.) Wine has figured time and again at remarkable moments in our lives. Was it the wine or the circumstance that was memorable? Did the wine make the moment or was it the other way around? Are we just being sentimental because we happen to enjoy wine? I guess we are. But we shall continue to collect our wine memories and store them in our hearts, so we can pull them out when we need to laugh or cry, to be comforted or just to feel good on a gray day.

Wine is good for the heart. I never for a moment doubted that.

On with the Marian year

’TIS the time when most hot-blooded Filipino males wish they were talking dogs. And this is because of one woman. But we’re getting ahead of the story.

Gab Fab: Angel’s significant other speaks up

BECAUSE of his stint in Magandang Umaga Pilipinas, Lui Villaruz has become known as Señorito Lakwatsero. Kids, meanwhile, know him as Papa Picolino due to his acting gig in Princess Sarah. Fans of Sakal Sakali Saklolo know him as one of the friends of Ryan Agoncillo who taunts him about being tied down already.

The year of bad deposits

IF we strictly follow the Chinese Almanac, the Year of the Rat will officially start at 8 pm on February 4, 2008. Ergo, January, today, now, still belongs to the Year of the Pig.

Fermentations: Gifts from the Vine

THE salmon marinated in crushed ginger, minced scallions, sesame oil and sake was warm and fragrant from the grill pan. My take on sushi rice with chopped parsley and green olives was not a disaster, thank goodness.

City cowboys, pig out and drink

JUST for the name itself, it is but right to have Texas Roadhouse Grill in El Pueblo Real de Manila right at the center of the Ortigas Business District.

Learning Curve: New Year, new life

‘I THOUGHT at your age, people would just be partying. But now, I realize we’ll always have issues—and that makes you, us, human.”

Jaded Buddha, my twentysomething friend, and I were having our pre-Christmas get-together.

Something Like Life: If I believed in New Year’s Resolutions...

‘SO what’s your New Year’s resolution?” my ex-classmate H. jokingly inquired. We hadn’t seen each other in a while as she had been working abroad for a time, and I bumped into her—of all places—at the mall just a couple of days before New Year’s Eve.

Will Smith, The Omega Man

GLOBAL superstar Will Smith is Robert Neville, the only survivor of a devastating, manmade plague that has decimated the world’s population in Warner Bros.’ new sci-fi thriller I Am Legend.