My own personal philosophy is best espoused by my sister Laura's response on the topic. When discussing the matter with some sisters in her BYU married ward, one sister contended that the alcohol didn't entirely cook out. To which Laura replied 'Really? Well I don't care.'
In preparation for an upcoming dinner (beef braised in red wine), I purchased a bottle of red wine during a recent trip to the Commissary. I hand-carried the bag not wanting for the bottle to get broken or to have my boab refuse to carry it, as he had done when he thought that root beer was the real stuff.
In the bustle of unloading groceries and getting everyone ready for a walk to the library, I left the plastic bag containing the wine bottle on our front entry table. Later that evening while cooking dinner, I heard a suspicious thump and asked Sophia, but she didn't reply, and the thump was more thump than crash so I didn't take the time to investigate.
Brandon called soon after, and we talked on his walk home. After we hung up, I told Kathleen that Daddy was in the elevator and she ran to the door to greet him. She quickly ran back, however, to tell me that there was a big mess in the front entryway. I ran after to discover a large red pool on the floor and the room smelling like a public house.
Luckily the red (mostly) came out of the floor and the smell has all but dissipated so that future visitors are not set to wondering about those Mormons and that 'no drinking' thing. I suppose that all of that trouble serves me right, in the end. But I'm still going to buy another bottle.