After a party I have half bottles like party guests who forgot their coats. I label them with painter’s tape and date because oxidized Pinot does not belong in pasta without consent. Some I freeze in ice cube trays for cooking. Some I invite a neighbor to finish on a weeknight.
Red goes into braises. White goes into risotto. Sparkling goes into me if I am still cleaning at midnight, modestly. Waste offends the former accountant and the former market shopper in me equally.
I also keep one nice unopened bottle for emergencies—bad day, good news, someone shows up sad. Wine is not the solution. Hospitality is. Wine helps the sauce.
Pour with intention. Stop before regret. Send guests home with a slice and a ride if they need it.