It's great when my daughter and I agree on a food. It happens with regularity: heredity is a powerful force: avocados, south indian pancakes, spicy okra fried with fresh basil, crusty baguette, all manner of fresh cheese, for these and innumerable other flavors we are essentially on the same page. We even have the same favorite dish at Toast: the farmer's egg and tallegio panini. Dinner last night was made with her in mind. Creamy, cheesy polenta with mushrooms. A simple meal served with good bread for a moment of peace between work and book time. Her books are far more interesting than mine. I tend to read boring wine reference tomes, she is more into picture books featuring ghosts and brown bears. Although last night the kid grabbed Our Man in Havana from a bookcase, so we read a few pages expletive-laden pages before toys beckoned. I was still sneaking sips of Vina Mein Ribeiro as she turned pages. The wine reenergized my work-weary brain and had cleansed my palate between bites of a satisfyingly rich dinner. Dinner was enjoyed by all, and the wine was enjoyed by the 2/3 of the family not addicted to drinking whole milk. As I write this Galician weather has once again gripped our area, a damp day to dream of springtime and the grilled fish I'd love to try this wine with next time, once the sun returns.