On any given weekend, Kathy Murray can be found ensconced in her kitchen, perfecting her sourdough bread, freezing a week's worth of meals made from "as close to the earth as possible" ingredients and cooking up fresh fish and produce from her local farmers market near Pocantico Hills, New York. She did not learn this at home.
Like millions of her fellow baby boomers born between 1946 and 1964, Murray was raised by parents who had come of age in an era where food was often bland, not always abundant, certainly not a vehicle for pleasure and frequently packaged for convenience. While they were grateful for the solid, if uninspired meals their mothers put on the table, boomers hungered for more. Murray, and many like her, took matters into their own hands and reclaimed the kitchen as a source of joy, relaxation, creativity and, increasingly, health.
Whenever a new Chick-fil-A opens, hundreds of its devoted fans walk in after spending days, sometimes weeks, outside the front door. Some devotees will wait in line at multiple restaurant openings, just to say they were among the first to eat at that Chick-fil-A. They must really love the chicken sandwiches there, right?
They do, but there’s another reason why they do this. At each grand opening, Chick-fil-A hands out coupons for one free Chick-fil-A Meal per week for a year (52 meals) to the first 100 people in line. For the most devoted Chick-fil-A fans who attend multiple openings, that means having free lunch and dinner for weeks, months or even years.
This leads us to Christina Heise and Matthew Robinson. They are regulars at Chick-fil-A openings, showing up to more than 70 combined. Eventually, they met and started talking. One chicken sandwich led to another, and now they’re engaged to be married.
Ray Isle (@islewine on Twitter) is Food & Wine's executive wine editor. We trust his every cork pop and decant – and the man can sniff out a bargain to boot. Take it away, Ray.
Ah, tax day: The forms are filled out, the check is written, the postal deadline is met. All that’s left to do now is nurse the pain. Clearly, what's needed is a glass of wine (or a shot or two of whiskey), but with what money are you supposed to buy that wine now that you’ve given your all to the IRS?
Here, for medicinal purposes, are a few good bottles that even those quarters stuck between the couch cushions and that jar of pennies in the garage might conceivably cover.