Protecting Our Sobriety From The Alcohol Not Listed On Menu Items

I was sitting alone at a table for four at Vinya Table, a restaurant and wine bar in Miami’s Coral Gables neighborhood, glancing at the cocktail menu and wondering what I should order.

My dinner companions had gone off to choose a wine from the hundreds of bottles displayed around the restaurant’s walls. They would come back a few minutes later — treasured bottle in hand — and proceed to talk vintage, grapes, countries, and things that I never really could understand.

It’s the foreplay that seduces one into a romantic ritual that ends in satisfaction as that first sip of wine hits the sweet spot of the soul.

It is a ritual I stopped partaking in four and a half years ago when I took my last sip of wine after one too many morning afters that satisfied nothing but the profits of the makers of Tylenol.

It’s a ritual I don’t miss, but one that I don’t deny anyone in partaking. Choosing sobriety doesn’t give me the right to be a self-righteous jerk or judge those who drink.

The waiter approached me and asked what I would like to have. I was already impressed that the menu included two very complex mocktails. But their ingredients were too sweet for me, so I chose a virgin version of a drink with watermelon, lime, mint, and ginger beer, without the rum.

The waiter didn’t miss a beat: “Sure, the bartender will be happy to make that for you.”

The drink arrived, and the presentation was perfect. My dinner companions came back soon afterward. The ritual continued, choosing the perfect glasses, decanting, sniffing, swirling, and test tasting before anyone drank the wine.

The fact I was not drinking didn’t phase anyone. I am long past the point where I feel a need to apologize for not imbibing. The truth is, no one gives a crap if you’re drinking or not. As long as you’re a paying customer, no one cares. And since sober is the new cool, restaurants and bars have learned to accommodate those of us who choose virgins over their not-so-chaste counterparts.

As for my dinner companions, they have supported my sober journey since the beginning, so I never had to explain anything to them.

The evening went just as it should. Slowly and perfectly. The appetizers were so good we ordered several rounds. The service was magnificent, and our requests were handled promptly and courteously.

Dinner Time In A Bottle

It was now time to order dinner, which meant another round of decanting, sniffing, swirling, test tasting, and drinking was about to begin. I sat admiring the now full restaurant, taking in the ambiance with a clear mind and a thankful heart, thinking ahead to the clarity and thankfulness that would be with me the next morning.

Next came dessert, and I chose the Piña colada, which despite its name, listed only coconut ice cream, pineapple, and mixed berries in the description.

The presentation was spectacular, half a coconut filled with vanilla ice cream, an assortment of berries, and shaved coconut flakes on top. Since it was big enough for four people, the waiter brought four spoons and placed the dessert in the middle of the table.

I couldn’t wait to dig in.

One spoonful into my magnificent dessert, a very familiar taste hit my tastebuds. After over four years of not drinking any alcohol, the flavor was overpowering.

“There’s rum in the ice cream,” I casually announced as I put down my spoon.

We called the waiter, who immediately apologized and asked us to choose another dessert. This time we ordered the Chocolate Lava Cake, which listed caramel salted popcorn, hazelnut, and dried raspberry as its ingredients.

The gooey chocolate cake arrived on a bed of ice cream, a combination I love. But one bite into this chocolatey dream and the familiar taste that had overpowered me earlier hit my tastebuds again.

Instead of getting upset, I chose this experience as an opportunity to educate those responsible for what was an innocent oversight but one that could have terrible repercussions for both restaurants and their customers.

A Message To Restaurant Owners And My Fellow Sober Diners

While menus can’t list every ingredient that might cause an allergic reaction, omitting an ingredient that could trigger a medical emergency from an item’s menu description is irresponsible at best.

It could also be the difference between life and death.

This is a warning not just to restaurant owners but to anyone dining at a restaurant where alcohol might be a “hidden” ingredient in the food.

Nowhere did the menu mention that rum had been added to the ice cream on the desserts we ordered. And while the two small tastes of rum did not threaten my sobriety or trigger me back to the bar, my concern for someone it might affect led me to mention it to the waiter.

It was not the waiter’s fault, and he more than made up for the mishap. A few minutes later, he came by with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, telling me the kitchen had prepared it especially for me.

I can only hope he delivered my message to someone who could take action to prevent future mishaps like the one I experienced.

If not, my Google Review did.