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Veteran Chicago Police Officer James Maurer didn't write The Beat Cop's Guide to Chicago Eats, but he expertly sets the table in a foreword that gets right to the meat of it.

"The most difficult decision any cop makes on a given day is where to eat lunch," Maurer writes. "Unless there's a major call, as soon as a couple of cops get into their car, this decision could take up the next four hours."

With Chicago's Finest having invested this much thought in so important a question, you can understand why Maurer advises: "You want to know where to get real food- Ask a cop."

Is all that true, I asked the Beat Cop in question.

"It's the decision you spend the most time discussing, I'll tell you that," says Sgt. David Haynes, a 15-year member of the Chicago Police Department and one of the book's authors.

Beat Cop is really a collaboration of Haynes and writer Christopher Garlington, his Gladstone Park neighbor.

Haynes, 42, is a former Marine who's assigned to the 19th District at Belmont and Western but currently detailed to police headquarters. All you need to know about his credentials for writing a food guide are his vital statistics: 6 feet 1 inch, 335 pounds.

But he also has history: Dad was a beat cop, and Mom worked undercover narcotics.

Garlington, 45, writes a blog called "Death By Children," and the duo host a weekly Internet radio program popular with police.

Their book is a worthy sequel to the famed Streets and San Man's Guide to Chicago Eats by Dennis Foley, which occupies a permanent spot in my automobile glove box for its fun writing and worthy neighborhood dining recommendations.

As much as I liked the Street and San Man's Guide, though, its choice in food was never spicy enough to suit my tastes. No such problem with The Beat Cop's Guide, with more adventurous selections including Puerto Rican soul food, lots of taco stands, even a pupuseria.

When I mentioned the Pupuseria El Salvador, 3557 E. 106th St., Haynes seemed lost, so we can presume he got that pick from Garlington. The restaurant serves pupusas, which, as the book explains, is "kind of like a Jamaican meat pie and a taco had a baby."

Haynes says his personal favorite spot is Caribbean American Baking Co., 1539 W. Howard, for the meat patties.

Beat Cop's most surprising selection might be the West Suburban Hospital cafeteria, for the salad bar. Cops often eat in hospital cafeterias, Haynes notes.

"Most cops spend some time in hospitals [reports, injuries, hitting on nurses, whatever]," the book explains. "And the hospitals used to always charge police the employee rate."

All the restaurants in the book aren't necessarily frequented by cops, but they all have to pass the Beat Cop test, which is that it serves good food, gets you in and out under 30 minutes and costs less than $10. If he likes a place, Beat Cop is willing to fudge the criteria.

"We realized after we got done that we missed a lot of cop places," Haynes admits.

There's also one disclaimer to Maurer's advice to ask a cop where to eat: Don't ask them on their lunch break because they're off the clock and would rather not be bothered, the book confides. But Haynes says such interruptions don't bother him personally.

The book hasn't hit stores yet, but it's about to go to the printer. Lake Claremont Press, the local publisher that also did the Streets and San Man's Guide, has launched a fund-raising campaign through kick- starter.com to pay for the first printing by pre-selling copies.

From the minute I heard this book was in the works, I expressed my enthusiasm for the project, as well as my desire that it answer one question: Where do the cops get the really good doughnuts, like the ones former department spokesman Pat Cam-den brought to a media training event one time and then wouldn't say where he got them, no matter how much I begged-

To his credit, Haynes deals with the doughnut stereotype upfront, although not completely to my satisfaction.

"Not many cops eat doughnuts regularly" these days, he insists. Today's department has lots of health-conscious younger police officers who don't do doughnuts. Bagels maybe, but not doughnuts.

For his part, Haynes admits to having eaten his share of doughnuts - "and your share, too" - but betrays no particular enthusiasm for them.

The book does have a list of top doughnut spots and declares that "the best doughnuts in the world," not just in Chicago, come from Old Fashioned Donuts, 11248 S. Michigan.