Our beautiful America was built on the promise of golden mountains, golden opportunities and Golden Arches, the latter being a big reason why the rest of the world thinks we’re a nation of excess. And for the most part, they couldn’t be more right.

Consider the Bacon Explosion, a recipe developed by competitive ‘cuers from Kansas City: Two pounds of bacon, two pounds of sausage, some barbecue sauce, more bacon, all smoked and sliced like it’s a Christmas ham. It caused quite the Internet stir, resulting in The New York Times dedicating journalistic manpower to produce a full-length story on the meat beast. And on the BBQ Addict’s Web site (where the recipe originated), there are hundreds of comments.

Competitive eating is also gaining popularity (Joey Chestnut, photo above). Eating contests were once events reserved for backyards and drunken parties, but lo, they boast a global headquarters for all those worldwide who want to take excess to a professional level. Blogs have popped up with schedules of contests small and large, and many of them document their own, non-IFOCE-sanctioned contests.

We also love Guinness culinary record-breakers, most recently the world’s largest cheesecake in Mexico City (which, incidentally, The Wall Street Journal has deemed the “World’s Greatest Food City”).

Like many Americans turn to a tub of Haagen Dazs when we’re feeling blue, it seems the rest of the world is right there with us. This may have something to do with denial for the current economic state – though we’re down, we’re not out, and we’re going to eat heartily to prove it. Cost will not stop us. A lot of cash was funneled into that two-ton cheesecake, and bacon is not cheap. Though the cost of butter, sugar, flour and chocolate have risen substantially, people still stage cookie-eating contests at dinner tables and festivals across the nation. Excess used to be frowned upon, but as a nation we’ve wrapped our arms warmly around the concept. It’s a form of comfort. It’s not a bad thing.

Those against excess will think this is an appalling shift in the way we’ve been eating. It’s body-taxing to sit down and eat 3 days’ worth of calories in a single bacon roll, and it’s unpleasant to watch a body react by rejecting 50 Oreo cookies or hot dogs or what have you. For the naysayers, I offer a glimmer of optimism: Aren’t we always saying that things get worse before they get better? Maybe we’ve hit culinary rock-bottom. Maybe there are better things to come.

For the enthusiasts, I say that this is your time to shine. There is no other time I can think of — save for these historical occasions — where excess is as accepted as it is now. The human body is resilient. Do your thing, as I will do mine. (Click on “Read the rest of this entry” for recipe)

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Have you ever read “Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant”? It’s a collection of stories in which food writers divulge their secrets of what they eat when they’re alone (and some of it’s not foie gras, that’s for sure). Each story is poetic, telling of loneliness and comfort, whether eating eggplants for months or ingurgitating ingredients that should never have been paired (think egg noodles with cottage cheese).

I have my own version of the latter. It’s my Favorite Things sandwich. The beauty of a Favorite Things sandwich is that a person can have more than one. Mine changes with whatever’s available in my apartment: Sometimes it’s peanut butter, almonds, bananas and chocolate chips on Wonderbread; once it was turkey breast, ground beef, cream cheese and bacon bits on toasted and buttered sourdough. A Favorite Things sandwich can be made of anything you want, even leftovers. The only condition is that it has to be comprised of your favorites. It also has to be eaten alone, or if you must, in the company of someone whom you trust. I wouldn’t eat a Favorite Things sandwich in front of just anybody.

Normally, each blog post begins with a food photo. This post is an exception, simply because I fear that my honesty may appall some of you. Sometimes, Favorite Things sandwiches can’t be pretty, no matter how hard you try. And while this isn’t as bad as some of the Favorite Things sandwiches I’ve had in the past, I still hesitate. The choice is yours, you may click on the link below for a visual and recipe for my latest Favorite Things sandwich. Or you can pretend I said nothing at all.

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