I tried not to let my astonishment show when Hampton rose to greet me. He was at least 50 pounds heavier than when I had seen him last; the soybeans and the gym must have been long since abandoned. His nose seemed to be gaining in prominence over his other features. But the old jaunty confidence still rang in his voice.

““Welcome to my lair. I call it New Hampton.''

It seemed likely that storm troopers from the Environmental Protection Agency would crash into New Hampton at any moment. The alcove, sealed off from the other diners by a heavy curtain, had an atmosphere that I generously estimated at five parts cigar smoke to one part air. From an inside pocket, Hampton pulled a black leather case so enormous that at first I thought it was a shoulder holster for a high-caliber pistol. Inside, each in its own chamber, nestled four massive Macanudos. I took one and clipped off the end with the little handheld guillotine that Hampton offered. I paused, stymied by a novice’s quandary: should I tear off the label or leave it on? A sidelong glance at Hampton’s cigar revealed the answer: off.

““These things have gotten damn hard to find,’’ he said. ““Everyone seems to be smoking them–women, college kids, everyone. The only reason I can get ’em is that I’m in the business.''

Here, evidently, was the source of his new affluence.

““But aren’t they bad for you?’’ I asked, lighting up with a butane torch that seemed designed for major acts of arson.

““Bad for you? Who cares? Maybe they are, but frankly, my friend, that is precisely why they’re so popular again. People are sick of being told what’s good or bad for them. It’s all nonsense. Fat-free this. Salt-free that. We were headed toward a taste-free world, for God’s sake. So people are putting some pungency back into their lives. Cigars. Beer with real bite. Well-marbled steaks. They’re all back.''

““Doesn’t it seem a bit self-destructive? After all, there are studies that…''

““Studies!’’ He was booming now, and I was glad to have that thick curtain between us and the rest of the restaurant. ““Nobody believes studies anymore! It’s a goddamn racket. We used to be a nation of doers. Now we’re a nation of researchers. People sitting in front of a big row of computers crunching numbers until they come up with something scary that’ll lock in their next grant.''

I thought it might be wise to change the subject.

““I see you’re into martinis these days.’’ The table was blessedly free of the large bottles of fizzy water from Finland or the Tyrolean Alps that were the beverage of choice in the early ’90s. In front of Hampton stood an empty martini glass.

““Actually it’s bourbon. I took up martinis early this year, and suddenly everyone else seemed to be drinking them, too. I began to suspect the bartenders were mixing up batches in advance, and that’s death on a drink. So I switched to unblended bourbon. Knob Creek. I ask for it in a martini glass because it should never be served on ice. Ruins the taste. It’s really like fine brandy.''

““So is hard liquor coming back, too? I see they’re advertising it on TV.''

““Damn right! And you want to know why? Because drinking is fun. People think they’ve earned some fun. Back in the ’80s, you made a little money and everyone was pointing a finger at you and yelling “Greed!’ So out of sheer self-defense, people started acting responsibly. Health clubs and seltzer water and salad for lunch. I know–I’ve been there. And you know something? There’s no fun in being responsible. Fun means irresponsible.''

““Sort of eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die.''

““Die? What kind of defeatist talk is that? The whole point is to live. And that’s exactly what a lot of people haven’t been doing lately, even though they still get up in the morning. The unindulged life is not worth living–there’s a thought for the end of this overanalytical, overanxious century.''

Hampton took from his pocket a small silver box, opened it and extracted a pill.

““See this? This is the food of the ’90s. DHEA, the Fountain of Youth pill. I’m going to live forever, my friend.''

He popped it into his mouth and washed it down with a fresh glass of bourbon the waiter had just brought.

““Let’s have a steak,’’ he said.