By
Emma Wartzman,
a senior kitchen and dining writer at the Strategist.
Previously, she was an editor at Bon Appétit and has worked in food media for nine years.
A couple of weekends ago, my best friend texted me impromptu at 6 p.m. asking if I’d be interested in having a glass of wine. I secured a bottle while he took a long walk from his apartment in Crown Heights to mine in Park Slope, where he arrived about an hour later. We sat in my backyard, sipping on a light, bright, ice-cold white. I got three mosquito bites before it occurred to me to spray up, and I forgot to eat dinner (extremely rare!) until he left around ten. It was perfect.
