So, I’m almost two-thirds of the way through my self-imposed Fall-2009-Gourmet-only restraint for November, and I will admit, it’s a lot harder than I thought. I’ve been staring longingly at my Bon Appetit’s, knowing, as I assume the editors at Conde Nast did, that the recipes in BA are a lot more home-cook-full-time-worker friendly. While Gourmet has made the after-thought attempt at the weekday-friendly recipes (and some are quite good), the majority of the magazine is dedicated to 3 hour+ long recipes with ingredients that, quite frankly, I’ve often not heard of. And this is (or, I suppose, was) Gourmet’s tragic flaw – so achingly aspirational, beautiful, untouchable, but in no way practical for the busy home cook trying to eat well on a budget.

Firstly, let me apologize for the lengthy delay. I, like many Bostonians, was felled by the flu (swine or similar) this past week. And, even after the symptoms are long gone, the exhaustion tends to linger – hence my pathetic and ragged 1.5 mile run yesterday, all of which felt like the last leg of a 10 mile run. It was so sad that I was forced to cheer myself up with a margarita and filet mignon sliders with Dr. S before going to my film debut (shameless self-promotion) in TEN9EIGHT – as an aside, if you’re in need of a little uplifting, kick-your-butt inspirational story, go see this movie. These kids are amazing!

Congratulations Budapest, you did it!

Yes, Budapest, you bested me…. you served me something that I could not only not stomach, but had to politely, and as discreetly as possible, spit into my napkin.

Now, before I describe this offensive spread, which, along with gifelte fish, deserves its own Fear Factor episode, I will proudly state that I am not easily offended in the culinary department. I’ve watched Anthony Bourdain eat a live snakes heart and throught “Damn, I want to DO that!” There are foods I don’t care for, but very little that I can’t or won’t eat. Until this past week, the list was restricted to the aforementioned gefilte fish, but no more….

A few years back, I had made the foolish habit of buying lunch every day at work; a group of us had become close friends, and I felt worthy, neigh, entitled, to splurge on eating out in order to spend the quality time with friends and break up the work day. I estimate that in one year I spent ~$2000 ’splurging’ on going out for lunch, rather than brown-bagging it, which is just a little nauseating, given our current recession.

There seems to be some sort of distastefulness associated with brown-bagging-it, and I can’t quite put my finger on what it is – it’s part hassle, part belief that the food won’t taste as good, and part perceived image and social opportunity in a work setting. I understand the reluctance, as I felt it myself, but those qualms disappeared when I started making my own lunches and realized the following: I make a better sandwich, with fresher, more interesting ingredients for a third of the cost of the local cafe.

I am not one of those people that is capable of restraining themselves in all areas of their life at once. I never could, and wouldn’t expect myself to, pinch my pennies, watch what I eat, hit the gym every day, log in extra hours at the office, and be kind to strangers, all at the same time. It simply can not happen.

With the recession in full-swing, and having imposed a temporary ban on shopping at Barney’s, I feel fully justified… nee, compelled to assuage my spirit with a little culinary over-indulgence.

Potato chips are one of my greatest weaknesses. I may wax poetic about farm-fresh eggs, local butchers, and in-season produce, but put a bag of Doritos or Lays in front of me, and all of that Organivore/Localvore dogma goes right out the window, and I get downright gluttonous.

Several years ago, I went to an inexpensive Italian restaurant in London. I had made the foolish mistake of trying to do a very expensive city on the cheap, whereas, in my old age, I’ve learned to do inexpensive cities very grandly, and end up with a much better experience. But I digress…

This restaurant offered Linguine alla Carbonara on the menu, and, as it is one of my favorites and so rarely on a restaurant’s menu, I decided to try it. The offending dish came out as I should have expected, with cream used to bind the delightful, fresh flavors, and subsequently drowning their freshness in its leaden heaviness. I ended up with a less-cheesy alfredo – not terrible to eat, but not the carbonara I was hoping for.

Valentine’s Day is almost here, love is in the air, and what better way to suss out the relationship potential with your latest paramour, than by employing the time-tested and proven Bacon & Egg Relationship Barometer.

There is nothing more soothing than a hearty weekend brunch to cure what ails you. Whether it’s stress, the common cold, or an overzealous hangover, a big pile of bacon, steaming and oozing eggs, thick toast, and strong coffee are the quintessential cure-all. That is, unless your morning meal is fraught with relationship-status-speculation, or RSS.