When Do We Eat?
One food critic’s last weekend indulging in fattening food
by Karen Hofreiter

In a few days, I will be going where nary a food writer has successfully gone before—on a (shudder) diet. Always a four-letter word, diet has remained a concept I’ve thankfully never had to give much thought to—until now. Thanks to an impending Caribbean vacation, which will necessitate the donning of a bikini, I’ve realized that those ubiquitous, normally harmless “winter five” must do a disappearing act a tad earlier than usual. With beach-frolicking only two weeks away, this is a feat that will no doubt require extremist measures—like treating air as a singular and solitary food group.

So it is that I’ve resigned myself to a diet—starting Monday. Until then, I’m going to do what any sane person about to commit to an extended period of severe depravation would do: unabashedly, unashamedly binge! Just like the smoker who puffs through two whole packs the night before quitting day, or the caffeine addict who gets buzzed one final time on a quadruple shot mocha cappuccino, I plan to spend the next three days eating in a big, final hurrah.

**Warning: I am a professional. Do not attempt this on your own.

Friday
7pm Alfredo pesto pizza
I decide to start my weekend of gormandizing with nothing less than globs of glorious cheese and lots of fried stuff. Since I’m not quite ready to stuff my face in public, delivery is the sensible choice. I fetch the grease and tomato sauce stained menu of my favorite pizza joint, Ideal Café (484A Centre St, Jamaica Plain, 617-524-3334). After briefly contemplating a delightfully doughy calzone with jalapenos, I settle on my hands down favorite—an Alfredo-pesto sauce pie with roasted red peppers and prosciutto. You won’t find the sauce on the menu, but just ask the owner’s enthusiastic—and gastronomically-imaginative—son, who had the fortunate inspiration to mix the creamy white sauce with nutty pesto. To accompany my pizza, I shamelessly order a batch of the crunchy, thickly battered onion rings, with a side of ranch dressing for good measure. When my feast arrives, still fresh and hot, I climb into bed, cardboard box and all, and sigh with happiness—it’s going to be one incredibly tasty weekend.

Saturday
10am Honey-dipped donut
Dry-mouthed and slightly hung over from last night’s sodium-laced indulgence, I still manage to schlep my way across the Charles to Verna’s Donut Shop (2344 Massachusetts Ave, North Cambridge, 617-354-4110, www.vernaspastry.com). This mom-and-pop establishment has been serving homemade donuts and pastries to a neighborhood crowd for over 30 years. Tip O’Neill was even known to be a regular. This morning, it’s their light and crispy, signature honey-dipped donut I’m jonesing for. Well, ok, and maybe I’ll grab one of the giant Whoopie pies while there…

2pm Empanadas and beer
In keeping with the devil-may-care spirit of the weekend, I rationalize some daylight drinking. First, though, is a stop at La Pupusa Guanaca (378 Centre St., Jamaica Plain, 617-524-4900) for a couple empanadas. Deep-fried and stuffed with savory fillings like spiced ground beef and crumbly queso anejo, these palm-size pockets are served with a couple scoops of what can best be described as a sort of Latin-influenced coleslaw. I take my empanadas to-go and head next door to the Brendan Behan Pub (378 Centre St., Jamaica Plain, 617-522-5386). Stepping in from the bright afternoon sunlight, it takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the dark. The scene is congenial and lively as usual, with live Irish folk music and a few tail-wagging dogs gathered with their owners at the far end of the bar. The Behan doesn’t serve food (hence, the dog-friendly policy), but you are welcome to bring your own. I order an Allagash from the extensive line of beers on draft and take a seat with my fried treats on a bench by the window. Life is feeling pretty good.

6pm fried mac n’ cheese
For “dinner,” I head to Allston for what has to be the pinnacle of gluttonous gourmet—fried mac n’ cheese at SoulFire (182 Harvard Ave, Allston, 617-787-3003, www.soulfirebbq.com). What could possibly be more indulgent than comfort staples pasta and cheese, mashed into a ball, rolled in bread crumbs and fried? As I ceremoniously lick the lovely grease from my fingers, I begin to wonder if the whole bikini thing isn’t highly overrated.

10pm Oreo cake batter ice cream
By this time, I’m starting to feel a little queasy—no doubt from the quart of grease I’ve downed in the last 24 hours—but I shrug it off as a mere dip in blood glucose level, easily remedied by a hefty dose of sugar. My elixir of choice is a soupy bowl of Oreo cake batter ice cream and warm peanut butter sauce at JP Licks (several Boston locations, visit www.jplicks.com).

Sunday
9.30am sticky buns
It’s my last day of food freedom. I am sort of missing my usual breakfast of yogurt and fruit—especially since I can feel a revolt brewing in my stomach—but I am determined to take full advantage of this rare, guilt-free noshing spree. I figure now is the time to try the much raved about sticky buns at Flour Bakery (1565 Washington St., South End, and 12 Farnsworth St., Boston, www.flourbakery.com). I’ve never been a fan of sticky buns, which I usually find about as appealing as a brick of dried out dough covered with a thin layer of whitish topping. Flour has managed to change my mind. Soft, pillowy and impossibly buttery, with a thick topping of deep caramel and pecan gooey goodness, these buns are a sinful treat not easily forgotten. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look at a bowl of yogurt the same.

4.30pm fried pickles
Binging is not as easy as it looks. In fact, it might be as difficult as subsisting on sprouts and celery. I’m considering putting an end to this scheduled pig out when the phone rings. “Fried pickles?” a friend slyly asks. That resolves it—diet officially starts tomorrow. Two minutes later, I’m out the door and off to Joe Sent Me (2388 Mass Ave, Cambridge, 617-492-1116, www.joe-sent-me.com) for their juicy, thick battered dill pickle spears. Yum…

8.30pm Chocolate orgasm brownies
After packing my gym bag and a lunch of roast turkey on whole wheat, I settle into bed with what is a very appropriate climax to my perfect, gormandizing weekend: chocolate orgasm brownies from Rosie’s Bakery (various locations, please visit www.rosiesbakery.com). As for my diet, I think it might just be ok after all. In fact, I’m kind of hoping I’ll get to do it again real soon.