If I could name my own country, I would call it the Republic of Pie. To investigate who stole my idea—and to check out their extensive sweet and savory pie selection—I headed over to this laid back space in the NoHo Arts District of Los Angeles. More

Despite its unappealingly mysterious jet-black color and origin as a fungal infection on a corn cob, it's delicious. Vaguely mushroom-y (but not in a truffle-y way), a little tart, and extremely savory, huitlacoche makes one of the greatest taco/sope/huarache fillings around and I very rarely get my fill of it. More

I'm pretty blessed to live in a Philly neighborhood where a new taqueria or Mexican grocery store with couple of tables in the back seems to appear out of thin air every few days, all well suited to treating hangovers: dirt cheap, unpretentious, and close enough to my house that I can walk there still smelling like whiskey and beer. More

When you're hungover, it's easy to get confused. Where did I park my car? Why did I get a replica tattoo of Petunia, the enchanting inktress from Nickelodeon's Adventures of Pete & Pete? Well, I can confidently say that exactly none of these questions will be answered in the following paragraphs. But I will say this: the breakfast bäco at downtown's Bäco Mercat is easily one of the best Hangover Helpers in Los Angeles. More

When you get me started on places to eat in Philadelphia, I get excited pretty quickly. When you ask me about brunch in Philadelphia, you'll be hard-pressed to shut me up. Going to college in this fine culinary city meant I was an expert on brunch; specifically, the places with brunches that could really cure a hangover. There were plenty of solid greasy spoon options (Bui's food truck, I'm looking at you), but White Dog was a little more classy—and right near campus. More

1970s rock gods Jimmy Page and Robert Plant embodied one characteristic above all else: excess. And the aptly named Egg Zeppelin ($8) at the Fried Egg I'm in Love (sensing a pattern here?) food cart on SE Hawthorne in Portland mirrors its namesake's penchant for overkill with a fat, salty, spicy stack of eggs, sausage, cheese, and hot sauce designed to transform your groans of agony into sighs of delight. More

Two things are unequivocally true about S & W: the breakfast menu is expansive, and the word is already out. Waves of weekend patrons crash against the pantry walls. First the Sun Risers, then the Active Mothers of Small Children, followed by Cops and Other People Who For Some Reason Are Up As Early As Cops. Luckily, they've all mostly cleared out by brunch o'clock, which means a short wait is all that separates you from plastic tablecloths and the necessary ingredients to cure what ails ya. More

It happens. You pry open your swollen eyes and remember climbing into the cab to head home, but not crawling into bed (hey, at least it's your own). And your credit card: "Oh no...is it still at the bar waiting to be closed out?" With a morning like this the last thing you want to do is make decisions. Especially the hungover breakfast question of the day: "Do I want salty or sweet?" Fortunately if you're in Singapore, their national breakfast has got you covered: Kopi and Kaya Toast with eggs. And you won't have to drag yourself far because it's right outside your front door. More

A cube of fatty pork belly and several hunks of tender pork shoulder first spend several hours in a marinade of soy sauce, sesame oil, and chili oil. The meat next undergoes a long braise in a syrup of caramel, garlic, ginger, and chili paste before it's ladled on a bed of steamed white rice. The dish gets a touch of Portland (or is that Portlandia?) with the addition of chopped egg pickled in honey, soy sauce, and star anise. A second egg draped over the pork to allow the yolk to spill over everything beneath it completes the stew and helps nudge it a little closer to the breakfast end of the meal spectrum. More

I wake up Friday morning barely getting over a cold from earlier in the week, get caught in meetings all morning before finally getting to start my real work in the late afternoon, don't get as much done as I hoped, and decide to say, "screw it, it's Friday, time for happy hour." Rather than grocery shopping, I get a cocktail, realize that New York Mart is now closed, acknowledge the grave error I've made in my meal planning, and send down another cocktail to keep the first one company. My wife ends up meeting me downtown for another cocktail, followed by dinner out (that's a bottle of wine and an after dinner drink), and since we've already decided to make a night of it, we might as well really make a night of it. Next thing I know, it's noon on Saturday, the dog needs to be walked, and I've got nothing but a bag of bok choy, a shallot, a few potatoes and a couple of eggs in my pantry to nurse us back to good health. More