“Miss Knowles.”
“Cassidy.”
“Cassidy, thanks. You said that there are wines that aren’t real types of wine? I don’t understand that.”
Thirty-five students of the Culinary Institute of America eagerly awaited her answer. She always had a great time at the CIA summer-series classes. About the end of the first week, she couldn’t imagine why she didn’t move back to New York to live along the Hudson River and teach oenology. Invariably, by the end of the second week, she remembered why she never did. But this was the first week and her session had been booked out within hours of the class announcement. At least a dozen of the staff stood along the back wall to listen in.
She’d once sat in those chairs and listened just as eagerly to Craig Claiborne when he’d deigned to lecture. She was stand
