Does The Hungoevr Cookbook spotlight a small, yet decidedly porky hog on its cover because bacon is the ultimate hangover cure, or because it would also like to point out that those of us requiring a cookbook tailored to days defined by the overconsumption of alcohol are gluttonous, unbridled pigs? Argument in favor of the former: a recipe for Potato Hash with Avocado and Bacon. One for Pork Sausage and Egg on an English Muffin. And, mmm, The Elvis Presley Peanut Butter, Banana and Bacon Sandwich. Recipes obviously intended to refresh and reinvigorate us to the point that we can throw back a few more brews...and maybe a shot or two of Jager...again tonight. Argument for the latter: The deprecating anecdotes, graphic jokes, mind benders, quizzes, and insights into the science of drunken stupidity interspersed amongst the food-based cures. Words that will surely exacerbate the guilt compartment of our psyches, just as the delicious home cookin' soothes the stomach compartment of our bodies.
Or maybe they'll just help us to find the humor in our misery, and remind us that this too shall pass. Hungoevr author Milton Crawford divvies his cookbook into six sections, one each for the six types of hangover PG Wodehouse details in his 1949 novel The Mating Season. Forty recipes are distributed amongst the sections according to their effectiveness in assuaging the particular maladies we feel in the throes of booze-induced illnesses the Broken Compass, the Sewing Machine, the Comet, the Atomic, the Cement Mixer, and the Gremlin Boogie. But while gag reflex rescuers like Cardamom Porridge with Spicy Apple Sauce, The Breakfast Burger, and Tagilatelle Alla Carbonara might be the key to getting through the morning after, The Hungoevr Cookbook is probably most fun to peruse when we don't need it--when our sober selves can delight in its wit and its questionable concoctions, without feeling the effects of the poor bastard versions of ourselves who drank too much, and now need an instruction manual on how to get out of bed.