Ah, the sad commercialization of love... and I'm not talking about Valentine's Day.

The trend in commodifying every aspect of our lives, from anything even remotely sports-related (the Target Center, the Staples Center, the AOL Super Bowl Halftime Show...) to the threatened corporate sponsorship of NYC subway stations, has now spread into our private lives, as couples compete to Say 'I Do' to a Dunkin' Donuts Wedding *sigh.*

Oh well. I suppose the coffee will be decent.

For your enjoyment, I offer my off-the-cuff ode to hot chocolate:

Cup warms my fingers:
Dark and silky, this bitter-
sweet winter escape.

It's time to pretend we're hearty Northerners. My plan for this weekend involves bundling up, embracing the cold spell and raising a steaming mug to welcome the City Bakery Hot Chocolate Festival.

Opening day is Sunday (12-4 p.m.) for this, their 13th annual event. There will supposedly be an outdoor hot chocolate cafe, free ice skating on 18th street, a snowman contest and the opportunity to toast marshmallows. (Hopefully said marshmallows will be their yummy in-house variety with the charmingly irregular square edges.)

I'll be there picking up a daily flavor schedule so that I don't accidentally hit every banana hot chocolate day and miss out on ginger hot chocolate and chili hot chocolate again.

If you happen to be sadly distant from the tri-state, simply make your own marshmallows and hot chocolate. But be prepared... as I recall, marshmallow cookery is a stinky business, thanks to the gelatin processing. Favor the vegan marshmallows if you can't stand the stench.

Daily Candy spread the news of the Banana Bunker today, an innovation for which I have an ounce of admiration and a half-pound of queasiness.

On one hand, I've had my share of banana-related bookbag incidents and badly bruised banana-mush moments. On the other, I really loathe overpackaging and gimmicky single-use tools.

After all, the banana already comes in its own recyclable packaging. It's simply that the natural wrapper demands a little respect and care. I shudder to think that, if a banana sheath takes off, brainpower and plastic may soon be wasted in making sad little spin-offs shaped like apples, pears, grapes and plums.

Yes, folks... It's January 25. Beloved Bard Robert Burns' birthday (say that five times fast), celebrated across the world (but mostly in Scotland) with dinners of neeps (turnips), nips (of whiskey, naturally), tatties (potatoes) and haggis, true evidence of Scotland's love of the culinary arts. C'mon! When's the last time you ate the "heart, liver and lights of a sheep," eh?

It's a bit late to begin planning your Burns Night Supper (unless you have impulsive friends, happen to know a good source for haggis and your brother's a decent piper.)

But for those who'd like to get a jump on next years' festivities, please go read up at the BBC website Burns Suppers page and begin your work memorizing Burns' ode to boiled entrails: To A Haggis.

In fact, you may wish to practice your haggis recipes now. After all, you've got 12 months to spice it to your liking... and you may need all the time you can get.

A few notable versions:

Traditional But & Ben Hagis

Vegetarian Haggis

Vegan Haggis

The Dreaded Haggis

Alton Brown's Haggis

Prize-Winning Haggis

Just keep in mind that it's illegal to use sheep lung in your haggis when you make it here in the states. You're sad, I know. Have a nip or two (or three). You'll feel better, I promise.

A'la Minnesota State Fair, 2004

I'm an unabashed pickle junkie. From wild kimchi frenzies to Patak's spicy lime pickle kicks to the tiny little cornichons I eat by the quart, I'm a bit surprised my blood tests don't come back with elevated levels of brine.

Not a fan of the New York-style half-sour, I need 'em full-flavored, fully brined and boldly spiced, thanks.

My favorite pickles (aside from mom's, of course) are the ones Chef Floyd Cardoz makes, with anything from lotus roots, to spring ramps, green mangoes or watermelon rinds. If it can be pickled or chutneyed, the man can make it delicious... although he doesn't market them, dammit, so I either have to reproduce his recipes myself, or spend half my wages at Tabla.

Also worthy of note are the Gedney State Fair pickles, which come in all kinds of yummy, limited-edition varieties and feature the actual stories and photographs of the actual State Fair winners. I picked up a jar of Jack&Jill's Baby Dills last year. On the label I found a heartwarming description of the family prepping cucumbers for pickling in their household washing machine.

Ah, and I could rattle on for a dog's age about the pickle's role in family bonding, kitchen economy, cultural and historical significance, and health, but instead, I'll just provide you with a quickie review of several Rick's Picks (as in, pickles, in case you didn't see the NY Times article), in order of my love:

1. GT 1000s. Bold, zippy, seasoned green tomato slices. Hell, yeah. Me likey.
2. Mean Beans. I could eat the whole jar at one go. Where's my bloody mary? (BTW, avoid the Tillen Farms brand beans that promise to be hot&spicy and lame out. Their carrots are attractive and nicely crunchy, however.)
3. Phat Beets. Nice, but the vinegar's a bit strong on this one.
4. Bee 'n' Bees. Again, the balance seems thrown off by a heavy handed dose of vinegar.
5. Windy City Wasabeans. A pretty perfume, but I expected a bit more bang from the wasabi. They're kind of a flavor letdown. Possibly meant for those of delecate palate?
6. Spears of Influence. Nice start, but they quickly make like the Titanic — going down in a weak and watery finish.
7. Slices of Life. I'm glad these slices don't represent my life. That would be a sad, insipid life, indeed.

Sadly, I didn't have the chance to try the Santasias, Pepi-Pep Peps or Kool Gherks, but I'm a big fan of pickled red onions, and I'm betting the Santasias (red onion pickles) would make a wicked add-in for in a tuna salad sandwich.

Some gem-like examples of the type of painfully obvious warnings I've recently had to place on food products at work because there are far too many stupid people with lawyers:

• Leave the twine in place for cooking, and remove before slicing and serving.
• Please Note: Whole fish contain bones.
• Please note that peaches, nectarines, apricots, and plums are all at their best during the warm summer months.

And... my favorite:
Please note: Due to our chilled shipping and handling environment, candy may be delivered cold. Since cold candies are hard, we recommend you allow them to warm to room temperature before eating.

Icebox cakes are hot. So are brownies and tarts.

We've known midnight cupcakes have been trendy for a while, but now we see the rest of the carb-laden baked goods genre shake off the Atkins shackles and go barreling toward our midsections.

Hip little cupcake shops are popping up around the city like mushrooms after a rainstorm, the rich, creamy Beard Papa creampuff chain is busily planning future attacks and Lady M is serving up the coolest French-inspired Japanese pastries you've ever seen.

Grandma was so ahead of her time.

Top food story today: New USDA Dietary Guidelines for Americans released yesterday.

In short:

No, you're still not exercising as much as you should.

That 5-a-day fruit & veg thing? Just kidding. Yeah, that's gonna be 9-a-day, kids.

Drop the Atkins and back away slowly with your hands above your head.

You'll see me strapping on my adidas to jog to Chop't every evening for my government-mandated vegetation binge.

Times of sorrow and disaster never cast a favorable light over the dramatic, the overblown or (sigh) the hedonistic. So how do we account for endless public fawning over makeover shows, celebrity excesses and listless heiresses? Escapism? Why can't we all just make like San Francisco and take refuge in some quality meatloaf?

I'm not a behavioral scientist, so I won't attempt to psychoanalyze the national psyche. I do know, via Curbed, that TMFTML makes an attempt to keep overblown hedonism in check with criticism of Times Food Critic Frank Bruni. This is a trend I'm down with. After all, criticism is nearly always easier than creation... and often, it's simply taken at face value.

Meanwhile, I urge us all to wage battle against the forces of apathy, escapism and cynicism. Make something. Do something. And eat a meatloaf (or lentil-loaf) sandwich while you're at it.

That curvy profile, the gorgeous design sense, that sunny hue, the gentle tickle across your tonsils... what's not to like about Orangina?

Modern Orangina hails from Boufarik, Algeria, where the lovely Miss Gina got her official paperwork in 1951, but this was after a long gestation period beginning in orange-scented Valencia, Spain (naturally) where a Dr. Trigo had squeezed Narangina before 1936.

I won't go into her long and storied advertising history but must note that the soothing cerulean blue label with the unraveling orange logo appeared in 1953, thanks to some poster art by Bernard Villemot, and I believe we're all the better for it.

Orangina made her belated U.S. appearance in 1978 under a pseudonym, Orelia. Although she was heavily courted by Coca-Cola, that transglobalmegacorp lost her to another, and she remains something of a cult beverage — if there can be such a thing — delightfully embraced by the likes of brooding lit rockers, Net monkeys and craftsters.

In the end, do we really care about her age, her changing faces, her fans or her keepers? No. Miss Gina is a classic, and I fall in love again every time we meet. It's that juicy kiss, that sunny glow, that citric perfume, that effervescent essence... it's about being present in the moment. All the rest is just window dressing.

AFP photo 1/6/05

I know it's tempting to become infatuated with hippos, based on the cute AFP tortoise-hippo lovefest photos out in the press, but please, people... take great care before you decide to adopt one.

Did you know they ooze pink goo? Do you know they're known to attack beautiful women? These are dangerous wild animals, folks.

And for everyone's benefit, I urge you all to stop eating hippo meat. Eating giant endangered tortoises is still fine, of course.

There's all the stuff that promises you a good deal, and then there's the real thing.
Restaurant Week 2005 is the real thing.

This year, lunch is $20.12, dinner is $35. Having slaved over a hot stove for several grueling restaurant weeks, I can assure you that at least within the Danny Meyer empire, they're seeing this as an opportunity for exposure and community, not a money-maker. Read: real food, real cheap.

Hop on that reservation train now, kiddies. The good joints book up fast.

The ubiquitous toothpick. You figure it must have been around since the dawn of time. I mean, it's just a sliver of wood, right? Well, actually... yeah, you're close.

Science (I use this term with a grand capital "S" since I can't tell you exactly which labmonkey genius to source on this) discovered toothpick grooves on the teeth of ancient skeletons indicating there was some serious hearthside pickin' going on back in the day.

More interesting though, is the theory that the prehistoric use of toothpicks came in tandem with the meat-eating diet we'd adapted. Another example of the old "necessity birthing invention" bit.

Toothpicks were apparently wildly popular among the dentally blessed during Europe's middle ages, and according to the Union Oyster House of Boston, MA, "the toothpick was first used in the United States at the Union Oyster House. Enterprising Charles Forster of Maine first imported the picks from South America. To promote his new business he hired Harvard boys to dine at the Union Oyster House and ask for toothpicks."

But here's the thing that kind of blows my mind (bear in mind, this may only be interesting to me because I'm a bit feverish at the moment): While today's toothbrushes and running shoes are worlds away from their primitive forebearers, modern toothpicks would be recognizable to your neolithic great-great-great-(etc.) grandfather.

I honor the toothpick for its simplicity, minimalist design & longevity... because I know how to pick a winner.

(I'm really sorry... that was so cheap. Blame the fever. I swear the next post will be pun-free...)

Once again, TMN successfully brightened my morning with this link at Satan's Laundromat — a gorgeous compilation of chicken shacks: Not Quite Kentucky Fried. A choice example of why we can't imagine life without the internet.

Having spent a fair amount of time in Utah, I shudder to think of the exotic spicing one might find in a bucket of Utah Fried Chicken.

Politics and food. Strange bedfellows? More like awkward dancing partners who never quite get the rhythm down.

I picked up "Cookin' With the Democrats" in a little, used bookstore in Southern Minnesota, and this 1992-era political time capsule has given me years of dorky pleasure, although I haven't actually cooked anything from it.

Offering up recipies and mug shots of "Senators, Representatives, Governors and other Prominent Democrats who generously share their favorite recipes with America's Homemakers" we can stare in wide-eyed wonder at how socially retarded this piece comes off for the supposedly progressive political party... this was, after all, the early '90s.

Particularly entertaining are the recipe choices, from the personal (Sen. Tom Daschle's Famous Cheesecake) to the impersonal (J. Robert Kerrey's Governor's Mansion Cook's recipe for Chocolate Chip Cookies), promotional submissions (Sen. Tom Harkin's Stuffed Iowa Chops) to enigmatic choices (Rep. Ben Erdreich's Banana Frappé — Diet Shake... by the way, it's a banana, milk and vanilla. This is a recipe? For adults?)

For your enjoyment, I offer up Rep. Thomas P. "Tip" O'Neill, Jr.'s recipe (no guarantees on this one, folks) :

Beer Roast

4 pounds beef roast (round, rump or sirloin)
Salt and pepper
1/2 cup sugar
1 small bottle catsup
2 cans beer
4 medium carrots, cut into 1/4" slices
2 medium onions, sliced
1 large green pepper, diced coarsely
2 large stalks celery, sliced
Cooked rice or noodles

Place roast in open pan, season with salt and pepper and roast at 350 for 1/2 hours.

Combine sugar, catsup and beer and add to meat with vegetables.

Reduce oven heat to 325. Cook, uncovered, until tender.

Delicious served with rice or egg noodles. May be frozen.

Serves 12-16