It seems that the older I get, the less I’m able to tolerate having a hangover. In my younger days, it seemed I could put my shitty physical state out of my mind and function fairly well. In fact, sometimes a mild hangover would help me get things done because I didn’t have the energy or mental capacity for distractions. Well, those days are over. Even mild hangovers make me miserable now, and I’m sure that in the long run, this is probably a good thing. Still, on those occasions when it’s too late to avoid one, I’m willing to re-examine a notion I once scoffed at: hangover remedies.

Coconut water, which has been quietly infiltrating delis and supermarkets over the past few years, has been touted as an excellent re-hydrator for desiccated barflies. An Observer article noted that one brand, Vita Coco, contains 15 times more electrolytes than sports drinks and as much potassium as two bananas. According to the NY Post, Madonna is an investor in Vita Coco, and while I can’t really picture her polluting herself with booze, she doesn’t look any worse for her coconut water habit. An article in Time magazine reported that coconut water has used intravenously in medical emergencies and that it contains the same five electrolytes as human blood. The writer of the article even states that after drinking one for a hangover, “I felt noticeably better in an hour.” Anecdotal evidence is good enough for me! I grabbed a box of Vita Coco the morning of my next hangover, while on the way to the Apple Store (if there’s one thing crappier than waking up with a hangover, it’s waking up with a hangover and realizing your computer has died, taking with it an embarrassing amount of un-backed-up data).

First of all, you probably want a straw to drink your Vita Coco with. I suppose you could chug it directly from the box, but in my state I couldn’t do that gracefully, and I have too many memories of back-firing Capri Sun pouches to entrust myself with this task. Taste-wise I was expecting something like a virgin pina colada, but I was thinking of coconut milk, which is harvested from mature coconuts. Coconut water, which comes from green coconuts, is undoubtedly watery. Vita Coco had a faintly sweet taste, not exactly a flavor but more of a stale-ish quality. It wasn’t bad, especially as I got used to it, but it would have been more pleasant consumed ice-cold, or enhanced with other flavors (Vita Coco also makes pomegranate and pineapple blends).

So did it make my hangover better? I’m sorry to say it did not, but I didn’t feel any worse. Maybe my hangover was just too powerful, or maybe careening around in the back of a taxi with a dead laptop was counteracting hydration by making me queasy. There is probably some psychological benefit to be had from purchasing something that’s nutritious, as opposed to helplessly enduring your day-after punishment. For now, I think I’m stuck with avoidance as the only solution.

Vita Coco is available in delis, usually next to the sports drinks

Rhinebeck, my adopted hometown and weekend destination of choice, is located about 90 miles due north of Manhattan. It’s idyllic in the summer, but it’s not exactly a beer-lover’s paradise. Supermarkets and gas stations carry your standard six-packs, but for something special, you gotta burn about 12.1 miles of petroleum on a journey to Discount Beverage Center in Hyde Park. As someone who regularly browses the “single and fancy” section of Whole Foods Beer Store for the novel odd bottle, this means finding a car, or spending a few days of relatively-uninspired beer quaffing. Enter Grand Cru Beer and Cheese Market. I stumbled upon this shop while stocking up on treats at the phenomenal Calico Bakery for a trip to my grandmother’s house, which is located somewhere in central Pennsylvania. In a very dry country where they don’t sell six-packs. You heard me. To buy beer, you must purchase by the case at a distributor, or suss out a bar which will sell six-packs of Bud, or maybe Yuengling, if you’re lucky.

I’d been pondering how and how much to stock up for the trip, so when I wandered past the barely two-week-old Grand Cru, I initially thought I was experiencing a case of very life-like wish fulfillment. Single-and fancy-looking bottles lined the walls, including one from Pretty Things, Saint Botolph’s Town Brown Ale ($7.50; read my review of their Fluffy White Rabbits Hoppy Triple). Saint Botolph’s was a dangerously drinkable, malty, roasty dark beer. It suffered from being too cold since I stuffed it in a freezer in effort to quickly chill it and promptly forgot while cooking memorial day tacos. Don’t freeze it unless you’re craving a brown ale popsicle. I also picked up an intriguing-looking porter from a Norwegian brewery called Nogne O ($8.75, 1PT .9 oz). This was a superb example of a pitch-black, chocolately porter with a foamy-milkshake head. Really a winter style, but one I could drink it all year long. Stone, Smuttynose, Delerium Tremens, and Anchor Steam were some of the other bottles I recognized in the shop, and if I hadn’t been in such a hurry to get on the road to PA, I would have gladly lingered over beer and cheese in their cafe area, or taken home a growler. If you’re in the area, and you like beer, your course of action should be clear.

Grand Cru Beer and Cheese Market
Sun-Thurs 10am-7 pmalthough they might be open later if people are hanging out in the the cafe
Fri-Sat 10am-9 or 9:30

As I slogged into work the morning after Memorial Day, my bleary, weekend-weary eyes alighted on a most unexpected sight. The Schnitzel & Things truck, which has eluded me for months, was parked on 46th street, right in my lunch path. I canceled my morning bagel and an oh-so-subtle spring entered my step as I mentally prepared to schnitzel it up come lunchtime.

Schnitzel, a product of Austrian cuisine, is a boneless piece of meat that’s pounded flat, breaded, deep-fried, and served with a wedge of lemon. The most famous variation, wiener schnitzel, is made out of veal, but there are other varieties. The Schnitzel & Things truck serves chicken, pork and cod versions, as well as a toothsome-looking schnitzel burger, and bratwurst. Schnitzel can be ordered in a sandwich ($8) or as a platter with two sides ($10). Sides include potato salad, cucumber salad, french fries, chickpea salad, roasted beets, and mesclun salad (sample of 4 sides is $8).

I went with the chicken schnitzel platter. The cutlet was generously-sized, perfectly crisp, yet not terribly greasy–quite possibly ideal bookends for a schnitzel double down. A squirt of lemon, and generous dipping in pesto mayo sauce enhanced the otherwise plain flavor (ginger, olive, sriracha, and tartar sauces are also available, and absolutely essential). As for the sides, I enjoyed the roasted beets–the sweetness of the beets was cut by a crumbly layer of salty, rich feta cheese. The potato salad was… well, you’ll probably never see me get worked up about potato salad, but it was sufficiently tasty when dipped in mayo. In fact, my sole criticism with my lunch was I could’ve used more sauce.

I can only think of one other critique. I’ve always assumed food truck-eating should be, above all else, wallet-friendly. Platter or no, $10 is about the maximum that I can pay for truck fare without feeling chumpish. Even though it’s probably worth it, it’s better for my waistline if I don’t eat schnitzel too often anyway. Also, judging by the crowd of people during my early lunch stop, there will be a sizeable line following this truck around. But the queue moved swiftly, and they were handing out free, deep-fried balls of prosciutto and ricotta for folks to munch on, which certainly helps pass the time.

Schnitzel & Things truck
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