And don't forget the Jagermeister . . .

Here's some news you can really use. This time of year there are reams and reams of well-meaning warnings about ways to avoid over-stuffing oneself. You know and I know they fall on deaf ears. Face it, we're gonna pile the plate full and enjoy every high-calorie bite. I mean, you only get Aunt Cindy's cheese potatoes or Cousin Nell's pumpkin pie once a year, right? Bottom line - we're going to eat, eat, eat and feel like stuffed pigs afterwards, which leads to guilt, which leads to eating to forget how full we are, and so on.

But an article in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution has the solution: drink! That's right - you heard it here first (er, second, if you count the AJC article, which I'm sure no one read but me). Many liqueurs, brandies, and other "warm" beverages act as digestives, relaxing your stomach muscles (all tensed up from Uncle Buck's Spinach Mornay) and allowing your innards to do a proper job of - well, you know what they do. According to the newspaper:

Brandies, liqueurs, bitters and sundry bottles of firewater routinely show up at the end of epic European meals in the guise of digestive aids.

Italy offers the greatest lineup of digestivi, from sweetened, syrupy limoncello to clear, fiery grappa. Many Italians swear by the effects of a good shot of amaro, a dark cordial infused with bitter herbs and essences that in themselves are reputed to aid digestion.

The French have an equally varied lineup of digestifs. Brandies — such as cognac and Armagnac — are the classic after-dinner drinks. Fancier people may opt for an eau de vie distilled from raspberries or pears, while the more down-to-earth types go for the clear distillate called marc. In Normandy, there is a charming overeating ritual called the "trou normand" (it means "Norman hole") in which diners take a shot of Calvados apple brandy in the middle of a huge meal so that they'll be able to keep going to the bitter, porked-out end.

In Slovakia and the Czech Republic, a meal ends with a tiny glass of Becherovka — a cordial that tastes like grappa infused with spice cake and cough drops but in a good way.

Hungarians are partial to a dark, ferociously bitter concoction called Zwack Unicum that comes in a spherical bottle with a red cross on it. The flavor is so admonishing you'll regret that third helping of goulash.

Germans produce a famous beverage originally intended as a digestive aid. Know what it is? If you said "Jägermeister," you get another piece of pumpkin pie.

Quick! Find me some Zwack Unicum!

Do not give in to the guilt-laden urge to go for a walk or sleep off your holiday meal stupor. Quaff a few restful brews after you eat and that full, bloated feeling will give way to the over-whelming urge to start early on the left-overs. (Yes, yes, I see that this could be viewed as setting up a dangerous eat/drink/eat/drink pattern, but it's only once a year, right?)

Go ahead. Follow Harpo's example and order a tall one after that turkey feast.

I wonder if a little drinkie before the meal would be helpful as well . . . hmmmmm.