The Sunday morning hangover. It’s as common as...well, the Sunday morning hangover breakfast. You know the drill: it was a long Saturday night, a late Saturday night, and due to a daily regimen of waking up at seven in the morning to drag yourself to the office your internal alarm clock doesn’t have the decency to turn itself off and you’re up before nine.

Have no doubts; it’s painful, disorienting, dehydrating and, depending on whom your friends are, downright degrading. Maybe you woke up face first on your buddy’s living room floor, magic marker messages all over your forehead. You’re hung-over and, worse, you’re humiliated. All you want to do is go back to sleep and all you want to eat, if anything, is Advil. In this case the hangover is your enemy, your nemesis, the manifestation of all that is wrong in your life.

The optimist, however, might look at the hangover a little differently. Where others may see opposition, he sees opportunity. Perhaps he played his cards right the night before and now finds himself face first in someone else’s bed. Already, that hangover is starting to fade away and hunger is starting to take over. Now is a critical moment, a moment that can shape a brutal Sunday morning into a winning battle against the drinking gods.

For our optimist, there is no hangover, there is only the necessity of a hearty meal to soak up that booze and get the motor running. Let’s suppose that our subject is in Santa Monica or Venice; here, he can find the perfect antidote to all those extra tequila shots with beer backs taken the night before, and it’s called the Santa Monica Farmers' Market.

Stumbling toward the Market, one is treated to the sight of a couple of hundred people milling about a parking lot filled with a variety of booths. While most people in a hung-over state would shudder at the idea of being seen in public so early on a Sunday morning, our seasoned drinker knows it is the perfect time to grab his new-found friend and dive headfirst into the sea of humanity. One of the joys of the hangover is that there is still a little bit of intoxication remaining from the night before, and even a seemingly mundane stroll can turn into an all-morning party, provided the company is right.

Once inside the Market, there is live music to greet all visitors. For an ordinary morning, now might be a good time to sit down, take a load off, and enjoy a song or two before moving on. But this isn’t any ordinary morning; alcohol is still coursing through our hero’s veins, crying out desperately to be silenced by that holy grail of the hangover quest: breakfast food.

Ignoring the normal families and elderly couples, he plants himself in line for a crepe. It’s stuffed with fruit and chocolate and comes hot off the griddle right before his eyes, and he devours it with reckless abandon. Then it’s off to the sausage stand for some delicious handmade sausages that go immediately to work on that booze. Finally, he spots the oasis in his beer-filled desert: the tamale stand.

Run by Corn Maiden, the tamales are absolutely to die for. With tamales filled with everything from green chiles and smoked Gouda to wild mushrooms, Cabernet Sauvignon and garlic, everyone can find a tamale to love. Nothing fights a hangover like a piping-hot cornmeal tamale.

Satisfied, our hung-over friend can now peruse the rest of the Market, which is just as varied as the tamale selection. He’ll find fresh fruits and vegetables from all over L.A. County including giant beefsteak tomatoes, dates, avocados and squash.

Santa Monica is not the only city with a farmers’ market. So find one near you, fight the good fight against your Sunday morning hangover, and forget all about those questionable Saturday night decisions.

The Santa Monica Farmers’ Market
Every Sunday from 9:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m.
Ocean Park and Main Street
Santa Monica 90401

By Chris Boyd