So much artery-clogging, cholesterol-raising bad stuff to gobble, so little time. From all the foie gras, crèmes brûlées, fettuccine Alfredos, and hot fudge sundaes available in this town, how does one choose a singularly corruptive sensation when one really wants to tie one on? Look no further than the roasted marrow bones at 42 Degrees. They are as rich, unhealthy, and delicious as any three of the deadly sins, the essential creaminess of the soft, fatty vascular tissue barely counterpointed by the long, elegant croutons emerging vertically from the bones' interiors. Honest-to-God marrow spoons and supple, long-roasted garlic cloves add to the whole decadent élan. You might want to follow this up with the fennel-radish salad -- just a suggestion.
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