My Name Is Not Lavern
My name is not Lavern. It’s LaShea.
Lavern is my grandmother, who at 87 still swears by black jelly beans and Smirnoff Ice. She knows what she likes, and that’s something we share. Her tastes are unapologetic, exact, and oddly comforting. She doesn’t bother explaining or defending them; she just likes what she likes — a real gem.
I named this space for her, not because she drinks wine (she doesn’t), but because she represents something essential: the clarity of knowing what gives you pleasure and holding onto it without apology. That’s what I want this newsletter to be — not an exercise in expertise, but a record of joy, taste, and curiosity.
Growing a Sense of Taste
I learned about taste growing up on the Westside of Los Angeles. My favorite food was a hard-shell taco with shredded iceberg lettuce and grated cheddar cheese. I had no idea I was learning about texture, sweetness, fat, and salt—a simple pleasure.
I moved to New York to become a playwright because I wanted to write like Caryl Churchill and Suzan-Lori Parks. I got an education in culture, art, film, and also in how to pair a glass of Syrah with a medium-rare steak—a simple pleasure.
New York was where I got my first restaurant job. And my second. And my third. I loved working in restaurants: the camaraderie, the excitement, the righteous annoyance at people who didn’t understand how important dinner service is—the symphony of it.
I avoided wine service at first. It felt pretentious and expensive, like something not for me. And then I took a mandatory sherry class at a restaurant I was later fired from, and I fell in love. This was a new taste, a completely new world. I had a teacher who made wine sound cool and interesting. So I added what felt like another antiquated interest to my roster.
Plays? Check.
Wine? Check.
Why This Substack
By now, you might be wondering what this has to do with my Substack. And this is what I say to that: it has everything to do with it.
This is what my Substack is about.
I’ll be writing about wine. As someone who sells wine as a rep for a distributor and importer, who is hired to create wine lists, and who has been a sommelier in Los Angeles restaurants, I have opinions. I promise to keep them straightforward and fun.
But I’ll also be writing about the movies I love and the shows I watch. I’ll write about what I cook at home and what I eat when I go out. I want to carve out a corner of Substack that celebrates women and BIPOC people in food and wine.
Mostly, I’ll write about pleasure. The small ones. The simple ones. The ones that add up to a life. If that sounds like something you want more of, subscribe below and join me.
This Week’s Tiny Pleasures, Vol. 1
A few things that kept me from shaking my fists at the sky
🍷I love the wines of Vinos Pijoan, and I recently had the 2024 vintage of La Poubelle. The wine is 100% Sauvignon Blanc, which gives it that bright, aromatic lift, but during aging, it was left untopped, allowing a little oxygen in and adding a subtle oxidative edge. It’s Sauvignon Blanc, but with a kick.
Silvana Pijoan, a second-generation winemaker in Valle de Guadalupe, is very, very cool. First came classical dance, then sommelier training, then a winemaking degree in Mexico City. In 2016, she bottled her first natural wine, Vino Pelón. Now she’s taken over her father’s vineyards. In response to Baja’s extreme heat and drought, she made a bold move: removing an entire hillside of old, underperforming vines and replanting it with Mission grapes. These ancient varietals, brought by Spanish missionaries 500 years ago, are proving remarkably drought-tolerant and climate-resilient.
🍿 “I’m interested in one thing and one thing only, and that’s bent coppers”-Superintendent Ted Hastings
I love a police procedural. I’ve seen every episode of Law & Order and the entire SVU franchise, some of them more than once. I’ve also watched (and rewatched) Homicide: Life on the Street, which is excellent television. But the corner of the genre I’m most loyal to? British cop shows.
Over there, beat cops don’t carry guns, so there’s far less shooting. The bad guys plan their crimes over a cup of tea. And they give as much airtime to scenes of detectives furiously filling out paperwork as they do to police chases. Right now, I’m watching Line of Duty, a show about cops investigating other cops; specifically, AC-12, the anti-corruption unit, as they try to uncover a sprawling network of bent officers in bed with organized crime. First they have to figure out who “the Caddy” is, then who’s pulling his strings, and then who’s pulling theirs. It’s essentially a Russian nesting doll of corruption
😍 The Problem with Travel by Ada Limón.
