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Did your lover make you mad on V Day? Forget the chocolates? Give you drugstore chocolates? Then serve him up this delectable artery-clogger—the love child of a Monte Cristo and a Cubano—as revenge: Pork. Swiss. Turkey. Butter. Bread. Eggs. Fried.

People.

To cop a phrase from my friend Francis, I would date this sandwich. Serve with maple syrup, because life is short. And even shorter now.

My Valentine’s Day? Oh, I had the flu. In my wooziness, I’d sort of forgotten it was V Day. So it wasn’t until I was mincing my eighth clove of garlic for sopa de ajo, eating chocolate chips straight from the bag, that I realized I’d become Bridget Jones. Not only was I flying solo on Valentine’s Day, I was eating garlic soup alone for Valentine’s Day. I may as well have had my head inside a carton of ice cream, sobbing and watching The Notebook.

But that’s cool, because today is the 15th, and I’m feeling better, unlike those people hungover from their fancy Barolos, or patting their rounder bellies after decadent desserts and—ok, ok, I’m a little jealous. That said, Netflix, I could have done without the full-color ad of roses FTD affixed to my copy of La Dolce Vita with the caption

IT’S NOT TOO LATE TO PLAN THE PERFECT VALENTINE’S DAY.

Well, hindsight is 20/20.

From left: Ashwin Balakrishnan; Michael Hebb; me; Matt Wiggins. Photo credit Ashwin Balakrishnan.

You guys are lucky I didn’t use one of my deadly puns to title this post. They are ingrained in my writing after stints at three magazine staff jobs: Orange You Glad to See Us?; Table the Matter; The Fearless Four. Of course, only two of those are puns, and bad ones at that, but I’m halfway out the door to drink recession-themed cocktails at a recession-themed speakeasy with other recession-fearing journalists. Don’t be so jealous. Anyways, this is my favorite pic from my wacky journey, and this is my table–er, OUR table–a sexy plastic 30″ square number, which I carried on my back for about 31 of the 32 miles towards dinner. More pix here.

Buster the cat did not anticipate the evening’s culinary disappointments. His owner consoles him.

An ideal utopian January evening might comprise the following: 1) Gossip Girl, a show for teen girls I have no right to enjoy so much; 2) superplush butter-and-brown-sugar-drenched date cake from Williamsburg hotspot Moto; and 3) Beer. Microbrews, specifically—the heavier the better. Porter? Stout? Is “Imperial” or “Espresso” scrawled on the label? Bring it.

Under my bed—where like a bulimic, matrimony-crazed junkie I stash the food and wedding magazines containing my articles—lurked one last sample from a recent staff job. It lived in a glittering gold box. It was packed in velvet. And it was called… Utopia. The bronze bottle looked as though it could conceal a genie. Velvet, people! This was the Elton John of beers.

The noncarbonated elixir from Sam Adams sells for about $300 online, which is bizarre for a Sammy, but at respected site Beer Advocate reviewers raved about its caramel notes, bourbonlike qualities, and compatibility with oatmeal-raisin cookies and dates. Since I had recently lunged facefirst into Moto’s date cake, and Gossip Girl night was quickly approaching at my buddy Alita’s house, it was on: We would drink, eat, and watch Utopia. It would rule.

Our cake (add an extra egg to this recipe if the batter won’t come together) was a glorious thing. But that night’s episode of GG was a bit off. And the beer? Horrifying. I would have rather had—apologies to Philly—a Yuengling. The Utopia was cloyingly sweet (and I like sweet) and tasted like a poor man’s port. Were these dudes so rapturous over the beer because of its genie-like bottle? Did they not watch enough Disney movies as children? I should ask my beer-obsessed fellow food dork if storing noncarbonated beer under one’s bed for a year will mess with it. I have a feeling I know the answer. Regardless, I should have known better than to let Sammy define Utopia for me.

Journalists have been dog-earing their thesauruses of late transcribing the goings-on in the world: “dour;” “grim;” “unpleasant;” “scary;” “WTFOMG.”

But you know what’s not scary?

A smilng piece of coffee cake.

That’s right. And there’s an auction for it on eBay. Because this is America.

It seems the SanFran branch of the Barbarian Group, an interactive advertising (Read: nerdy, but lovably so) conglomerate owned in part by my old buddy Rick Webb, has collectively straightened its hunched-over-the-keyboard posture, adjusted its taped-up glasses, and is eyeballing the psychic-spiritual coffee cake market.

Starbucks unwittingly served this precious little number—they call him “Smiley”—to a Barbarian a few days ago, and for $57 + $10 shipping, it could be yours. Its eyes are made of an air bubble and a golden raisin, its smile of cinnamon. Its eBay listing reads like a loquacious fortune cookie: “An image of the universally loved Smiley has appeared before me in my Starbucks coffee cake. Surely it tastes delicious, but it is fated for guiding you, the lucky bidder, through a life of good fortune!!” Smiley will come to you swaddled in bubble wrap or packed in dry ice, though his current owner warns solicitously that, “Breakfast pastries are a crumbly breed and may not be intact upon delivery.” Indeed.

Holiday entertaining, in my extended family, often consists of Bing Crosby on the stereo, kaleidoscopic veggie platters with a ginormous centerpiece of some sort of pasty dip, and overcooked steak for dinner. To fortify myself for such things, and because I am a snob, I bring hostess gifts I love: Cato Corner’s Hooligan cheese; a bottle of Riesling; black-and-white cookies for my mom (which I loathe, but she loves). In doing so, I am invariably dubbed “the fancy foodie cousin.” I can live with that,  since I have a knack for procuring pricey-tasting grub for relatively cheap.

Over the course of researching my InStyle article, I surveyed some other “fancy” folks—a few of America’s top tastemakers, if you will—to find out their best cheapskate holiday party tricks.

STEVEN MEIR, Sommelier, Bar Boulud, NYC
Crémant du Jura, $23, NV André et Mireille Tissot.
“Crémant is the generic term for a sparkling wine made outside of Champagne. It generally has less bars of pressure, creating a softer, rounder wine. This one has wonderfully refreshing notes of Golden Delicious apples, baking spices, white flowers, and toasted brioche. I love it as an aperitif, with seafood, or with spicy Thai food. Sparkling wines are also a wonderfully luxurious finish to a meal, reinvigorating the palate and balancing the sweetness of dessert.”
SYLVAN BRACKETT*, Chez Panisse creative director-turned-caterer, San Francisco
“Ask your fishmonger for steelhead salmon eggs, which are much less expensive than sturgeon caviar. Buy them in their skeins, run hot water over them to separate them, and cure in very salty water for about 10 minutes. They are translucent and jewel-like. Put them in a crystal bowl over ice and serve with a horn spoon as you would sturgeon eggs, on hot blini (small buckwheat pancakes) topped with crème fraîche.”
HARRY SLATKIN, candle-maker
“I go to flea markets and collect vintage cocktail napkins in sets of ten or twelve. I don’t usually go in for the corny holiday ones; I like browns and greens and embroidered ones. Usually when they’re antique they’re a little bit faded, so they all have a little bit of that holiday moment.”
SCOTT GOLD*, author
D’Artagnan mousse trufféeNew Orleans native Scott Gold, author of The Shameless Carnivore, recommends this truffle-flecked chicken and turkey liver mousse.  “Though not as decadent as the goose or duck liver in a foie gras pate, this is a wonderful substitute. The texture is beautifully silky, and at $7 for an eight-ounce serving, the price is certainly right. Serve with a side of fruit compote (I like peaches).”
EMILY FARRIS*, author, Casserole Crazy: Hot Stuff for Your Oven
“For holiday decorating, I go to the 99-cent store and get the cheap gold and silver balls and hang them at varying lengths from my ceiling with a clear thread or fishing wire. It’s festive without being too flashy or tacky, and it never costs more than $20.”
LAUREN SMITH AND DEREK FAGERSTROM
Co-owners of San Francisco’s Curiosity Shoppe, authors of Show Me How.
“For a cheap and easy cocktail, pick up a case of prosecco (the Italian sparkler that is typically much less expensive than Champagne) and a jar of Wild Hibiscus Flowers in Syrup. Drop a bloom in the bottom of a champagne flute, add a teaspoon of syrup and fill with prosecco. Beautiful, delicious, and your guests will never forget it! We usually buy our prosecco by the case at Trader Joe’s, and it averages out to about $7 per bottle.”
LULU de Kwiatkowski, stylist
“Make an amazing punch. Get a big glass bowl, add bottle of vodka, 2 bottles of sparkling water, a bottle of white cranberry juice, and a ¼ bottle of red cranberry juice, and put 2 pomegranates’ worth of seeds all in the bottom (pre-packaged at many stores). Toss some mint on the top, and add a big ladle. It’s gorgeous, and has those holiday colors!”
* Full disclosure: I count Sylvan, Scott, and Emily among my friends, but their tips were too good to resist showcasing them.

I’m off to find some hibiscus flowers and prosecco now. Have a lovely weekend.

Winter has arrived with a shiver here in Brooklyn, and I’m ready to buckle down and do some serious nesting. Though my studio is too tiny for parties, I have revived my holiday tradition, much beloved by friends, of inviting myself into their homes. At least I usually show up lugging a bottle of Moscato d’Asti or a jar of paté.

What with the cratered economy, however, we’re all looking for tricks on how to entertain—and be good guests—without dipping into our savings accounts. So I was pleased when In Style assigned me a feature about entertaining frugally and stylishly during the holiday season. The December issue is on stands now; flip to page 366 to learn super-simple cocktails from Huckleberry Bar‘s wonderful Stephanie Schneider, or find tasty wines starting at $17 from award-winning L20 sommelier Chantelle Pabros. Take a cue from adorable do-gooder Jamie Oliver and cook up an earthy mushroom risotto, learn how caterer Peter Callahan throws together cheapie appetizers, or make a glitzy centerpiece of golden spray-painted roses like Michael George. (No, not George Michael—though yes, that would be exciting). Then use the extra moolah to buy your mom some extra-warm mittens this year, or send a ten-spot to the local soup kitchen. Here’s to staying cozy, happy, and healthy through the holidaze.

Lest that extremely punchy headline escape your attention, I’ve been writing frequently for Metromix of late. Though my experience at Soho’s Hundred Acres was not exactly awesome, I had a fine time tucking into Mia Dona’s fantastic Restaurant Week menu. Steak, pasta, & tiramisu for $24. Recession, what?

* I interviewed top NYC caterer Peter Callahan for Martha Stewart Weddings, and he shared some tips for saving a few bucks at your wedding without any of your loved ones going hungry. Because that wouldn’t be so romantic.
* Curious about NYC’s Restaurant Week? Maybe you shouldn’t be. Four top NYC foodies weigh in on the merits of the nosh-stravaganza.