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After a late night out on the town, it's hard to just say good-bye and go home -- especially when the sun's already well ahead of you. Plus, all that partying creates quite an appetite, and all that alcohol needs something to absorb it -- that is, unless you enjoy a hangover. You could go to Taco Bell; but remember, you're trying to avoid being stuck in the bathroom. You're better off heading over to Sande's Restaurant for a quick bite before you lie down for the day. Open at 6 a.m., Sande's has several breakfast combinations like the number one (two eggs, bacon or sausage, and hotcakes or toast, $3.50), number two (two eggs; bacon, ham or sausage; potatoes or grits; and toast; $4), or the number three (Western omelet with toast, $5.50). For groups, there's the Family Breakfast ($19.50), which includes eight scrambled eggs; home fries, hash browns, or grits; four bacon strips; two sausage patties; two sausage links; two orders of toast; two biscuits; four hotcakes; two French toast slices; and a bowl of sausage gravy. It's sure to soak up whatever alcohol lingers in your beer-drenched belly. While time may be the best cure for a hangover, a little greasy food ain't bad either.
It's Friday night, and you're hosting a party to celebrate your, uh... Well, there's no real reason; you just wanna get drunk. But you also want to take care of your guests, and yourself, for that matter. So instead of buying the same old, run-of-the-mill domestic beer from the corner store, take a trip to Case & Keg Beer World, where you can browse the more than 600 beer types and more than 140 keg beers. Gaze in awe as you choose from the huge selection of imported/micro ales and malts from breweries in the United Kingdom, Israel, Poland, India, Japan, the Czech Republic, and more. There are also plenty of wheat beers and sodas and even such creatively packaged stuff as Scotland's Legendary Heather Ale, which comes in a castle-shaped box. You can even get beer brewed with any name you choose on the label. Just imagine the possibilities! And if you're too busy with party-planning to pick up your keg order, Case & Keg will deliver it right to your door. Though it's probably best to just go there. It may take a few trips, but your guests will love you for it. How can anyone say no to this party?

Eric Barton
You know you're getting an inferior diner breakfast when you get the toast. It's dry and almost cold. Next to it on the plate are a couple of fresh-from-the-fridge butter patties. At Las Colinas, the bread comes straight from the iron sandwich grill -- la plancha -- with the butter melted inside the crusty Cuban bread. Hot enough to sting your fingers. Then comes the breakfast, an array of egg dishes served with fried potatoes and, the South Florida kickstarter of choice, Cuban café con leche. You can have straight-ahead ham and eggs ($3.50) or a variety of Caribbean-style concoctions. Our favorite is the Desayuno Las Colinas ($4.99, the most expensive item on the breakfast menu), a couple of fried eggs on a thin slice of steak, with a ladle of Creole sauce. The coffee is always piping hot, a little syrupy, and -- watch out -- highly addictive. (Just the coffee and the toast? $1.90.) Las Colinas ("the hills") is owned by Michael Park and his Nicaraguan-born wife, Maria. Opened three years ago, it's Latin-style, with nearly a dozen ceiling fans, wooden chairs and tables, and a stand-alone sandwich station that turns out all those iron-flattened Cuban delights.
They're $8, lack jalapeños, and the chips sometimes come singed. But, lawdy, if you want to make a meal of nachos, you've found the right place. Start with a pile of red, white, and blue chips, toss on chunks of mesquite chicken, Monterey jack cheese, two kinds of olives, and a mortar-like layer of spicy beans, then top it with an eruption of pico de gallo and sour cream. The whole mélange arrives in a skillet, which has exactly the sort of walls you need to scoop up stray beans and sauce using a single corn chip, as nature intended.

Why do the Brits fare so well with pub grub when they strike out so often with the rest of culinariana? (Bubbles and squeak? Boiled parsnips?) But here's one place where the Limeys can fly as many Union Jacks as they want. The building's 19th-century façade, including eight-foot-high English-oak front doors and stained-glass windows, was on London's historic Chancery Lane and was shipped across the pond in 1996. On nights when the Brit rock band Mad Cow is shivering the timbers of this Atlantic Avenue English pub-with-a-pedigree, you might find it hard to concentrate on the top-flight fish and chips in front of you. But persevere. Take a bite of just-right filet, get up and move to the beat, and then get back to your booth and try one of the homemade meat pies (suggestion: steak and mushroom) or Scottish fish cakes or even bangers and mash. Take a sip of one of the dozen imported beers (suggestion: Newcastle Brown Ale). Booty-shake a little more. Then finish with one of the fine fruit crumbles or a sherry trifle, followed by a glass of port and a hearty wedge of aged English Blue Stilton. There now. Life isn't so bad after all. And not one boiled parsnip in sight.

Forget the usual mega-brunches, with their prix fixe prices, "whatever"-service, and trips back to the empty salvers. Here in this two-room corner cafe that throbs with highly caffeinated conversation, major hallooing, and some of the wisecrackingest service this side of Rosie on a roll is yet more proof that the gay gene extends to the concept of brunch. On a late Sunday morning, it seems that wise straights have discovered this reasonably priced (average $8 per meal) little secret too. It all works thanks to the sensible kitchen, which turns the usual brunchly ducklings -- taffy-pull pancakes and omelets Firestone could patent -- into swans. The cook even gets the temperature of the food right, dish after dish turning up neither retro-warmed nor colder than winter in Murmansk. Helping it all go down is coffee as fresh as a slap. While eavesdropping on dialogue worthy of Carson on Queer Eye (tables are that close), admire the Liberace-meets-Auntie Mame décor. Rarely has more been better. Typical of brunch, timing is everything, and during peak hours, lines can form faster than a face-lift on Joan Rivers, but be patient -- the waiting ones disappear just as quickly, sucked into this happily spinning vortex of the well-toned and quick-tongued.

Does this lawyerly eatery have an impressive tort-quashing track record? Or maybe a helpful friend at the small-claims courthouse?

So you just ate the best meal of your life, but you're not sated. You still need that little buzz that makes a damn good meal perfect. You could smoke a cigar, but that's not allowed these days. Pot? You crazy? So how about a snifter of the finest French cognac? No better place to try this final step toward gastronomic paradise than Side Bar at the Himmarshee Bar & Grille. They have the three top brands -- Courvoisier, Remy Martin, and Hennessey -- in both VSOP and top-drawer types. Side Bar is connected to the restaurant -- which is fantastic -- so you can just walk around the corner for a toot or drop in after eating somewhere else. Prices range from $9 to $25. So relax, whirl it around a little, and let the fumes make your head spin, then sip slowly. All is well with the world, no, mon ami?

South Florida is a long way from home for the several thousand Finns who spend the winters in Lake Worth. For a little taste of the motherland, many of them come to Scandia Bakery, which has become something of a city hall for snowbirds from the Helsinki hinterlands. They discuss news from the north over custard-filled Danish at breakfast, plates of meatloaf ($6.75 for a whole meal) for lunch, and cabbage rolls (two for $4) at dinner. Specials are written on paper plates taped to the back wall, and a shelf of goods displays all things Finnish, including bags of ultra-strong coffee that would make those Scandinavian winters bearable. After lounging for a few hours on the L-shaped couch under the front windows, you can buy a warm of Russian sourdough from owners Aune and Taisto Kaanto. And you'll be glad you did. All of it is a lot easier to digest than the Finnish language. Example: Thank you is pronounced kiitos. The place is open for breakfast and lunch but closed during the summer.

"Don't be a chickenshit!" "Smack my ass and call me Sally!" These are two of the more involved names of the 12 sauces (four regulars and eight rotating ones) in the bar at Tijuana Flats Burrito Co., daring you -- make that double-daring you -- to "Give heat a chance." As soon as you walk in the door, you're seeing red; the walls are a deep shade of it and decorated with photos of hot-sauce survivors. (If you're a glutton for punishment, try the aptly named "Ass in Hell.") The sauces, of course, are all there to accompany Tijuana Flats' budget-conscious menu, which includes drool-inducing dishes like the toasted blackened chicken burrito ($5.75) and the spinach artichoke quesadilla ($5.50). In fact, the most expensive thing on the menu comes out to a whopping $7.75. But your pockets won't be the only thing paying.

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