After three decades in hospitality—almost eighteen of which were dedicated to selling, teaching, traveling, and writing about wine—I made the decision to stop drinking after taking my last sip of alcohol with one of the best chefs in the world.
Let me say up front: while this could easily be seen as a humble brag, that’s not my intention. Rather, I’m just trying to make the point that there will never be a “good” time to stop drinking—even if you’ve realized that booze is no longer your bestie. But that night in December 2023 wasn’t where it all began. As anyone who has attempted to change a consumption habit—whether it’s eating, social media, phone use, or drinking alcohol—knows, ramping up to abstinence happens over time.
After closing my wine bar in 2017, I spent several months consulting before making the tough decision to take a job—both to pay off the debt from owning a brick-and-mortar business and, as I’d later realize, to support my family when the world and restaurant industry shut down eighteen months later. The job I took was in restaurant technology, so while I was no longer working the restaurant floor, I was still in restaurants daily—four to five days a week, often visiting fifteen to twenty establishments. (Tech sales are aggressive.)
I was hired for my relationships and network, much of which revolved around booze. Drinking at industry levels wasn’t necessarily required, but it was certainly the norm. However, by my mid-forties, my body wasn’t handling alcohol the same way. So in 2019, I joined my first Sober October and discovered that dealcoholized wine had come a long way since I first introduced a spirit-free section on several award-winning beverage menus in 2015.
When the world shut down in 2020, I took several months off from drinking. Then, in 2021, I completed my first 100 days alcohol-free. For years, until that first 100-day stretch, I struggled to find a way to exist in my communities without drinking. But if you stay sober or abstain from anything long enough, your relationship with it changes. And thanks to the growth of the zero-proof movement and community, I began to see a path forward.
Still, it took me two more years to finally say, “I’m done for now.” That’s because alcohol is a tricky jester—one that convinces even the strongest among us that we can handle grey-area drinking, especially after years of prioritizing others over ourselves.
Many articles and experts warn about the dangers of taking one month off drinking only to return to regular consumption. After my 100-plus-day stint, when I did drink again, things didn’t go well. My sleep was terrible after just one or two glasses of wine, and when I drank like I used to, the hangovers were horrendous. Both of these factors led me to not treat the people in my life well—either while intoxicated or afterward.
I also found myself continuously spending time with people who were absolutely toxic for me. To be clear, I’m not necessarily labeling them toxic, but we all have our baggage. The people who encouraged me to drink or benefited from my drinking were toxic for me. Like it or not, some people want to see us in a worse state than how they feel about themselves—something that’s often hidden when we’re regularly drinking with others.
During the fall of 2023, I had a grueling work and travel schedule, attending many events where I was either expected to drink or where there were no zero-proof options. This experience began to lay the foundation for part of the business I’ve built today—but not before I felt pretty terrible after every event that involved drinking alcohol.
Fast forward to a work dinner with one of the world’s best chefs at a two-Michelin-star restaurant—another experience of sparkling water and “we could make you something” options for zero-proof. We dined on eight courses, paired with some of the top wines that end up as bottle shots on your favorite sommelier’s social media feeds—aged Riesling, vintage Champagne, single-barrel whiskey, and specially brewed beer. And yet, it was all just… okay.
Others, with palates and tastes I fully respect, were blown away, so the food and beverage weren’t lacking. What had changed was my relationship with the consumption of food, drink, and experience. I was seeking more—inspiration, connection, and opportunities for wellness in the industry that had been my home for almost thirty years. And the same thought kept coming back to me over and over: If this is the best of the best, and I’ve tasted extraordinary wines from all over the world, maybe it’s time to live and imbibe differently.
After that dinner, knowing Dry January 2024 was already in my future, I made the decision to go for 100 days alcohol-free. This laid the foundation for taking my creative life back. By May, I wasn’t really “counting the days,” and by the 4th of July, I started asking myself some important questions:
What if we don’t have to hit rock bottom to opt out of the conditioning around how we consume? What would my life look like if, instead of numbing out, I faced my fears and allowed creativity back in? What if I learned a new way to create community for myself and for people who have a life rooted in serving others?
Those questions gave me one of the first easy answers I’ve had since closing my wine bar: go a whole year alcohol-free and see what happens. What I’ve learned, after crossing that year mark and still going strong, is that there will never be a “perfect” time to change our relationship with any form of overly conditioned consumption.
While I don’t identify as “sober”—I’m not working a recovery program, and I have great respect for those with a different journey than mine—what I’m most grateful for is community. This includes the alcohol-free community and others in hospitality who don’t drink, all of whom fully support a former sommelier taking a new path and championing wellness in hospitality, for hospitality.
Over the past twenty years, I’ve coached people around a phrase central to my work: Hospitality Starts at Home™️. It was always grounded in the idea that we must take care of one another before opening the doors to take care of guests. But that recipe was missing an ingredient that the hospitality industry is notorious for—taking care of ourselves.
Now, the ethos behind that statement has evolved. Hospitality starts at home when we prioritize our health—mind, body, and spirit—so we can truly show up and hold space for others. And the lesson that continues to give every day is that no matter what’s in our cup, if it depletes us, it will always, to some degree, leave us feeling empty.
How about you?
We’d love for you to share in the comments:
- How has your relationship with food, beverages, and hospitality evolved since you quit alcohol?
- Are you alcohol-free and working in the hospitality industry? If so, has the experience been easier or harder than you expected?
- If you consume zero-proof beverages, tell us your favorite!
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