A Stupid List About Hangover Food

I got blotto last night and since I'm old as shit I'll be paying for it until Sunday, during which time I'll consume at least triple the amount of calories I average on a daily basis. We've all been there (and we all have yet to learn), so the next time you spend the night alternating between Fireball and Miller Lite for 6 hours, here's a handy list of food to shove in your face the morning after. It probably won't make you feel better, but it's worth a shot.

1. Menudo (or Posole): I blame my dad for a lot of things, but I have to give him credit for taking me to hole-in-the-wall places at a very young age. One of them, Taqueria Piedras Negras in Salt Lake, had menudo on Sundays. Pops knew exactly why. "It's a hangover cure," he said (I didn't really know what a hangover was, or how often I would be getting them later in life). Then he proceeded to tell me that the gelatinous honey combs I was eating used to be a cow's stomach. Then he dumped a shitload of onions and cilantro in my bowl and gave it a generous squeeze of lime. Fuck, I could really go for some menudo right about now.

2. Sausage, Egg, and Cheese croissant from Dunkin' Donuts: Pair it with an iced coffee that's more cream and sugar than actual coffee. If you're feeling especially shitty, order two, because they're kind of small.

3. Spam Musubi: If you have an aversion to Spam, you're dumb. Spam is goddamn delicious, and if you fry it up and glaze it with what is essentially teriyaki sauce, it's even more delicious. Put it on top of a sushi rice brick and wrap it up with nori and you've got a near perfect food.

4. Ultimate Meat & Cheese Breakfast Burrito from Sonic: If you're lucky enough to have a Sonic nearby, this has all of the breakfast meats, a generous ladle of cheese sauce, and TATER TOTS.

5. Five Guys: Put every single topping on their double cheeseburger, douse a giant order of fries with malt vinegar, and don't be shy with the free soda refills.

Alternatively, you can just start drinking again. It's 9am somewhere. Buen provecho.

The Martini Experiment

Martini on a high chair. Father of the year.

A recent visit from a couple with no kids inspired Mrs. Gastro and I to try out the Southern tradition of cocktails at 6pm.  If you're like them and your list of responsibilities is a little shorter than ours, I highly recommend following suit.  It's a great way to start the evening, and it'll slice the edge off cleaner than the sharpest of Japanese cutlery.  If you happen to have two or more kids, however, the 6pm cocktail hour plays out like a grown-up version of an after-school special. You forget about the meat on the grill, the macaroni for the kids boils to mush because you shifted your attention to the cocktail shaker, and the whole host of shit you need to do once you've finished your neglected dinner is still waiting for you three days later.  With the bender complete, it's safe to say that the martini experiment was as big a failure as my unfortunate run-in with Four Loko couple years back.  Martinis are delicious, but it's probably wise to save it for when the kids are in college and you need to self-medicate to forget about how much it's costing you.  Buen provecho.

Magnificent Mexican Mush

While the rest of the world is busy being tasered and/or trying to blow up Times Square (dumbasses), I'm using the Mexican holiday that only Americans celebrate as an excuse for some home cooking in front of the camera. Please enjoy this simple recipe for the best guacamole you will ever taste. What's that you say? Guacamole on Cinco de Mayo? Wow, that's original! Buen provecho.

Seriously, the Best Guacamole You Will Ever Taste
2 avocados, cubed
1/4 medium onion, diced
1/4 medium tomato, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 jalapeno, seeds and ribs removed, diced
Juice of 1 lime
Salt and pepper to taste
Cilantro, if you don't think it tastes like soap

Dump all ingredients in a bowl, mash and stir with a fork using whatever technique you think looks cool.  Drink a shot of tequila, then serve with your choice of tortilla chips (except the baked ones; they suck).

Why Did I Eat This?

If cleanliness is godliness, then what is timeliness?  Beats the shit out of me, because I'm overdue in trying the Double Down.  A week late, but certainly not $7.54 short, which appears to be the going rate for heart disease.  That's for the meal, which comes with potato wedges and a soda.  The sandwich itself is $5.38, enough to make the "lady" who ordered behind me taunt the cashier with threats of "It better be good."  If it were any cheaper, I'd be asking myself more than "Why did I eat this?"  Of course, I do my best to eat first and ask questions later, but by the time I'm done eating, I'd rather take a nap, so most questions go out to pasture.  Regarding WhyDIET? however, the answer lies of course in my own stupid curiosity, but also some goading from the in-laws, one of whom even told me I had fans (note to the rest of you readers: tell me my fans want me to do it, and I may even take the milk bet (again)).  Initial reviews of "it's too greasy" and "it's too spicy" (biter Sam Sifton, Hamburger Calculus, and Mikey Il on Unbreaded) lowered my expectations so far that I was more scared than excited to try it, but the franken-wich that I unboxed was neither.  In fact, it was actually kind of dry.  The teaspoon of Colonel's sauce didn't help matters, nor did the one square inch of bacon that was blanketed by a congealed slice of processed American cheese product.  And much like the rest of KFC's menu, the impending headache grew more intense with each bite as the novelty was quickly replaced with depression.  This was no triumph.  I suppose it's like seeing the musical Cats, or so I've heard. 

Slightly unhealthier than the sandwich was the venue I chose (for its proximity to my office), the food court in the Gallery mall in Philadelphia.  Even in the absence of flash mobs, there's no guarantee you won't get stabbed, which is a shame, because it's got an all-star cast of fast food, including a Golden Krust.  Wherever your local KFC might be (if you have a "local KFC," chances are you've eaten one of these per day since their inception), it wouldn't do all that much harm to try it, if for nothing else than to say you did.  You'll feel slightly dirty afterward, but that feeling fades, especially after a few gin & tonics.  Buen provecho.

I Am Your Drunk Uncle: Egg Nog

(Apologies for the lack of timeliness on this one)

"Hey, it's the guy that makes the egg nog!"

If this is what you aspire to, continue reading.  If it's not, enjoy your much less flavorful and definitely less rock 'n' roll carton of the storebought stuff.  For the adventurous and attention-starved, you would be surprised how simple it is to prepare egg nog from a dozen eggs, some heavy cream, milk, sugar, and nutmeg, resulting in applause from all who imbibe.  If you can execute, it's a foolproof way to flex some culinary muscle.  I've been making Cyril Collins' recipe for a couple years now, and according to my monther-in-law, it's the best she's ever had:




Start by separating the eggs.  Whisk the yolks with sugar, beat the whites until stiff (and get your minds out of the gutter), combine with the milk, heavy cream, and the booze of your choosing (I opted for a cup each of Sailor Jerry and Jim Beam), dust with nutmeg, and do your best not to puke all over your gay apparel (man, this would have been so much funnier around Christmastime).  Then forget to write about it until after the New Year.  Then forget that you already (sort of) wrote about it a year ago.  Then wish your reader(s) a merry belated Christmas.  Buen provecho.

Why Did I Drink This?

I call this the El Camino.  Equal parts Mountain Dew and Jose Cuervo poured into a stemless wine glass.  Let's put it to a vote.  I am either:

a. Extreme!!!
b. Innovative in the face of adversity, the adversity being that there is no beer, wine, or whiskey in the house
c. A pathetic drunk

If you're curious (which you shouldn't be), it tastes like a sickly sweet hangover reminiscent of the days when you would pour whatever you suspected mom and dad would not miss into a plastic tumbler and hope for the best.  Adults, don't try this at home.  Kids, I'm pretty sure you're already trying it, so I won't tell you to do otherwise, but I don't condone it.  Buen provecho.

Ever Heard of Sky Juice?

Ethan drops some serious knowledge on "sky juice," an unlikely pairing of gin and coconut milk available at the Fish Fry in Nassau, Bahamas. Tommy Up, if you're reading this, it may well rival the Pickleback in the category of sounds gross/tastes great. Buen provecho.

Sunday Vacation

"This is the perfect hangover food." - Mrs. Gastro

After I got the email on Thursday, I wondered if there was a catch. "You and a guest are invited to try the new menu at PYT. Regards, Tommy Up." I also wondered how Mr. Up happened upon my name. Then there was the bit of trepidation that I'd show up today to some sort of shit show and not even get to eat, or worse, it would be like the dream where you're walking through the halls of your alma mater without pants. Thankfully, all of it was unfounded (and I remembered to wear pants), and in place of the anxiety was a straightforward meal that could work at any hour of the day.

Feeling a bit off from the car ride (if you're coming from Northwest Philadelphia, take note: there's a section of Germantown Avenue closed in a section where you don't really want to have to take a detour, so take Lincoln to Kelly, even if it's a bit longer of a ride), I was pleasantly surprised to see two words that pair better than a porterhouse and a cabernet, "free" and "parking." Having not yet been to the oasis that is the Piazza at Schmidt's, this was an added bonus, especially since we were running a bit late. An immediate seating awaited us, followed by a short delay, followed by a very apologetic and attentive server that completely made up for said delay. A Stone IPA and a coke spiked with cherry soda helped us wash down a simple cheddar burger (I haven't tasted a burger cooked that perfectly since my honeymoon) and a 'shroom burger, whose inspiration I had assumed came from Danny Meyer's Shake Shack (this was later corroborated by Mr. Up himself); you take two portobello caps, layer some cheese in between, batter and fry it, then top it with some special sauce and tuck it into a toasted bun. It's the alpha dog of veggie burgers, or maybe the funny fat kid. Whoever you're comparing it to, one things for sure: somehow it belongs with the meats, even though it showed up under the Bogus Burgers section of the menu. On the side, a sack of fries and a sack of onion rings. While I wasn't much for the fries (hard to get a handful with my mitt-like hands), the onion rings were in my top 3. Sturdy after the initial bite (I hate it when the onion slips out), well seasoned, and well battered. A chewy and sweet success.

To top it all off, the bartender came out with a special mojito that was more Lucy than Desi (that's good thing): strawberry infused prosecco in lieu of simple syrup, arriving at the latter end of the meal and offering a delicious palate cleanser. Another added bonus? Mrs. Gastro being with child meant two of these for me, and since I also ordered a Kenzinger after the Stone IPA, I gave myself a healthy buzz. Since I'm in agreement with her that this would be amazing hangover food, I guess I'll just have to head back to PYT tomorrow, non-gratis, but it's so good, I'd pay double what they're charging. Buen provecho.

PYT is located in The Piazza at Schmidt's. It's pretty hard to miss the three giant letters in the window, but if you're blind or just more interested in fitness, it's next to the running store. The food's cheap, and it's a great place to hang out. If I didn't have to drive home, I probably would have sat there all day cranking brew doggies. I'd also like to offer my apologies to our waitress. I would have left a bigger tip, but I only had 16 bucks on me. More photos here.

Cheesesteak Tally

Pat's: 6
Geno's: 0
Delassandro's: 2
Steve's: 1
Street Meat: 4
Other: 10.5
Total: 23.5

As of late, I'm either too busy or too boring to maintain this damn blog, but at least I've been able to find the time to eat cheesesteaks (two in the "other" row since last time). The first of the two "other" steaks came from Fiesta Pizza in Chestnut Hill. It didn't suck at all. The movie we watched, "Rachel Getting Married," was a different story. I'd like those two hours back.

"Other" steak number two came by way of an increasingly rare late night run to Chubby's, one which might have been a little safer on foot (although the sub-compact rental car handled great in the Manayunk hills despite the BAC of the driver). Mushrooms (from a can) are starting to make their way into my steaks these days. The brine adds the appropriate amount of saltiness, and since they've been sitting in a can for Jeebus-knows-how-long, the fungus taste is muted (and then further muted by my heavy handed hot sauce/mayonnaise one-two punch) to a volume just above a whisper. That's all for now. Buen provecho.

Cocktail Guide

The placemats* at Oscar's Tavern in Philadelphia provide this handy little cocktail guide in case you're in the mood for a Planter's Punch, Gin Rickey, or any other assorted cocktail your father used to drink before he switched to Popov straight from the plastic handle.

*My apologies for the crappy B&W scan. It's the best I can do at my office.

Cabin Fever

It hasn't been real crappy, but it's still winter. Fighting the doldrums one fisticuff at a time, I think of summer moments, this one in particular:

Che Gruyere: May I have a slow gin fizz

Country Club Teen Waitress: ...?...

Che Gruyere: It's delicious