I know I shouldn’t have done it. But I just couldn’t stop myself. When you see a giant wreck on the side of the road, it’s hard not to look.

So in the midst of the country’s financial breakdown last week, I didn’t avert my eyes like I should have. Instead, I rubbernecked. I made the huge mistake of logging on to check on my retirement fund.

Oh, the horror, the horror. The terrifying image of those bleeding, shrunken numbers will undoubtedly haunt my sleep for years to come.

Years in which I apparently will be continuing to work.

And it’s not just the ever-receding retirement horizon that’s getting to me. Besides the bank failures, there’s the scalping we’ve been taking at the pumps, the spike in the price of everything, hurricanes, floods, and the dead stop the government comes to in the six weeks before a presidential election. And have you heard about the supercollider in Geneva that is due to churn out an earth-consuming black hole any day now? That’s starting to look like an attractive option.

It’s all too much. If I didn’t have to work today (Grrr), I’d climb back into bed and pull the covers over my head. Instead I’m headed to the kitchen.

If ever there was a time for comfort food, this is it.

Mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, chocolate, fresh-baked bread — I’ve tried them all in the past few days. But the barrage of bad news keeps canceling them out.

Today, since the weather has been chilly, I decided to make a big pot of Tuscan bean soup. I thought the aroma — and the knowledge that I wouldn’t starve — might have a calming effect.

But while it was cooking, I made another mistake. I got absorbed in reading my friend Ken Albala’s book “Beans, A History.” I thought I might discover a new twist on the classic recipe, or an interesting factoid to relay to you.

And unfortunately, I did. I learned that beans have been scorned since ancient times. Banned by Pythagoras, shunned by Hippocrates, and generally considered the poor people’s food of last resort. In Medieval Europe cultures, a potful of beans on the stove was pretty much equivalent to impoverished peasant status.

Suddenly it didn’t seem to matter that my hearty and delicious soup was made with exquisite Rancho Gordo flageolets that cost more than the ones Jack bought to grow his beanstalk. That luscious aroma filling the house instead seemed to be mocking me, reminding me of the upcoming poverty of my golden years.

I put the soup into the freezer. I’ll need it when I retire.

So there I was again, still looking for the perfect food to make me feel better. I ran my mind over my childhood favorites, and thought of applesauce. Homemade applesauce was one of my mother’s specialties and it always cheers me up, so I decided to make some.

I had just finished scavenging the last few apples from my tree when the phone rang. I sat petting Eddie Haskell (still available for adoption — act now and I’ll throw in some beans) as I commiserated with my sister Judy about the dreadful state of the markets. “I don’t want to spend my old age selling apples on the street,” she moaned.

That pretty much killed the applesauce idea.

Before she hung up, she added to my depression by telling me the latest stock market numbers.

That’s when I knew I’d have to bring out the big guns. Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures.

Right now, I’m feeling bullish (or perhaps I should say “cowish”). I’m making dulce de leche. Which will then go into homemade ice cream. Which I plan to eat in an enormous banana split.

I can feel the stock market indexes rising along with my mood.

Dulce de Leche

Ice Cream

I found this incredibly delicious recipe in a back issue of Gourmet Magazine. Making it is almost as easy as buying a container of Häagen-Dazs. I can’t speak to the power of commercial ice cream, but apparently, this homemade stuff really does have magic power — the minute I started cranking the freezer, the market started to recover. So I highly recommend you make some too. If enough of us do it, maybe we can get the economy back on track.

2 cups whole milk

1 cup heavy cream

1 can or bottle of (14-16 ounces) dulce de leche*

1/4 tsp. vanilla

3/4 cup chopped toasted pecans

Combine milk and cream in a saucepan over moderate heat and bring just to a poil. Remove it from the heat and whisk in the dulce de leche until it is completely dissolved. Whisk in the vanilla. Cool the mixture by placing it in a metal bowl inside a large bowl filled with ice and cold water, stirring until it is cold, about 15 minutes.

Pour the contents into an ice cream maker, following the manufacturer’s instructions. When ice cream is pretty close to firm, stir in the pecans. Transfer the ice cream into a storage container with a tight-fitting lid, and place in the freezer for at least an hour before serving.

Makes 3 pints

*You can buy dulce de leche at most supermarkets and at Mexican markets. But it is also very easy to make. Simply place a can of sweetened condensed milk in a large pot of boiling water. Simmer it, making sure the water doesn’t boil off (the can should always be covered with water) for 3 hours. Let it cool completely. When you open the can, you will find dulce de leche.

Betty Teller is a serious foodie who tries not to take food too seriously. To talk food or adopt a cat, contact her at amuse-bouche@sbcglobal.net.