A naval victory in Rome, pizza reminiscences and a digestif with a
kick.
For some years now I
have been keeping a secret. A secret of such enormity that had I the
slightest hint of humanity in my pathetic shameful body I would have
shared it with the world as soon as I created it. I speak of nothing
less dear reader than the antidote to the most debilitating self
inflicted curse since Adams apple lay undisturbed on the ground
fermenting before someone came along, picked it up and sucked it. OK,
that may not strictly be the origin of alcohol but what we are
talking here is - The Hangover.
You may be wondering
why such a selfish, uncaring monster as I has now decided to go
public. Well it turns out that even though I created this life
reviving concoction while hunched over the hob and steadying myself
with one hand on the kitchen sink tap I wasn't the first. The
Italians have been making it for years, although as a hangover cure
they haven't quite perfected it, but, to be fair perhaps they don't
have the same incentive that I had.
In fact in my
experience of drinking with Italians they can be a bit light weight.
An episode that particularly springs to mind took place some years
ago while on a visit to Civitavecchia, the port of Rome. My drinking
buddy and I were ensconced on a couple of stools at the counter of a
little pizza bakers-cum-eatery tucking into great big slabs of
pizza and sampling a glass of the local grape. I say slab because
these slices were rectangles of yummy-ness cut from an equally
rectangular pizza cooked on a tray at least 3ft by 4ft in an open
wood-burning oven right there in front of us. I can honestly say
without a shadow of a doubt this was the best pizza I have ever
tasted, in fact I think it probably ruined me for all the other
disappointing pizzas I've had since. Having said that there is a
small 'Mediterranean' restaurant not five minutes walk from my humble
abode that does a pretty decent second. A pizza, a glass of wine and
change from £6.98, not a bad way to spend an hour or so at
lunchtime.
Sorry I digress, back
to Italy. It was while we were munching the second or third slab of
pizza that we were accosted (in the nicest possible way) by a couple
of Italian sailors similarly engaged further down the counter. We
knew they were Italian sailors as they were in uniform, we were in
civvies but I guess they could tell we were English sailors. Despite
the obvious language difficulties it turned out that one of these
guys was celebrating the pending completion of his national service -
he had a string of lights round the inside of his hat which flashed
whenever he got over excited, I'm thinking he had a switch and a
battery somewhere, and possibly a similar arrangement for his hat. As
so often happens when sailors of two different nations happen upon
each other it was suggested (the guy with the flashing hat, I think)
we partake of a drinking and pizza eating contest, Italy versus
Britain, childish I know but we hadn't taught them to lose at rugby
then. Not been one to turn down a challenge, especially when national
pride was at stake my friend Merkin (I call him Merkin because that
was his name, although as you may guess to many other members of the
ships company he was known as 'Ferkin Merkin'), Merkin ordered four
bottles of vino from the baker. A slight look of apprehension did
cross the face of our new found friends (and the baker) but a
challenge is a challenge. To cut a long story short bottles emptied
and much more pizza consumed the four of us moved on to a local bar
that our two new pals frequented. Several hours and beers later in
deference to diplomatic relations we mutually declared the contest a
draw and called it a day (actually early morning). Merkin and I went
to get a taxi back to the ship and our Italian duo staggered off,
presumably back to their base.
Purely by chance as the
taxi took us back to the ship we passed two Italian sailors being
manhandled into the back of a Naval Patrol van. Both were wearing
silly grins and one was wearing a flashing hat... couldn't help
grinning myself, winning is such a great feeling!
Despite all this talk
about pizza and the undeniable truth that the last wedge of cold,
rubbery pizza left overnight on the kitchen unit in its grease
stained cardboard box is irresistible the morning after it is not the
cure that we are discussing here. That honour goes to Spaghetti Aglio
Olio e Peperoncino. This is one of those dishes that list every
ingredient in its name. Let me translate, spaghetti (spaghetti),
aglio (garlic), olio (olive oil) and peperoncino
(chilli). So there we have it a name and ingredients list all in one,
Spaghetti with garlic, olive oil and chilli. What could be simpler.
Put the pasta on to cook in a large pan of boiling salted water.
While that is cooking warm a couple of good glugs of olive oil in a
second pan. Chop a fresh chilli, with or without seeds and chop a
garlic clove or two. Add both the chilli and garlic to the pan of
oil. The idea is to just warm through the garlic and chilli and
infuse their flavours into the oil so no harsh frying, just a slow
warming. When the pasta is cooked, drain and add to the chilli,
garlic and oil. Give it a stir to coat the pasta and serve. Add a
sprinkle of basil leaves and or parmesan to finish if you like.
So
much for the classic Italian but for the hangover cure 'BrianR' we
need a few tweaks. Firstly the pasta, unless you are an expert
slurp-per and are either naked from the waist up or have tucked the
tea-towel into your pyjama top, oily spaghetti and a hangover are not
a good combination (does anyone know how to remove olive oil splats
from T-shirts). No, forget the spaghetti go for a couple of handfuls
of fusilli. Fusilli has a distinctive advantage in that the twirls
capture more of the oil and the little pieces of chilli and garlic.
There is also the fact that you can just stab a twirl with a fork,
you can't do that with spaghetti especially while wandering round the
kitchen eating straight from the pan. While we are on the pasta, if
you have a real stinker add a touch more salt to the cooking water
than you would normally do. Try to chop the garlic and chilli a
finely as you can (I use a small knife for this, large ones can be
dangerous when in this state) and last but certainly not least add a
good knob of butter to the oil.
Carbohydrates, Vitamins
A: B6 & C, Allicin, Diallyl Sulphides, Iron, Copper, Potassium,
Monounsaturated fat, antioxidants by the bucket full along with a
healthy dose of salt and butter, what more could an abused body want?
There is a good chance
that if you have indulged to excess the previous evening you will
paradoxically be dehydrated. Banana smoothies (or as we used to call
them milkshakes) are definitely the number one drink to counteract
this strange phenomenon. Bananas help replace potassium, magnesium
and other minerals, the milk will help coat your upset stomach and
also help replace your depleted vitamins and minerals. If you can add
a spoon full of honey this will give you poor abused body a shot of
sodium, potassium and fructose.
There are of course
commercial hangover cures available and although it is now marketed
as a 'digestif bitter' Underberg is one of the oldest and best known.
It comes in little 20ml paper wrapped bottles and tastes disgusting
(down it in one or you'll never finish it). I can personally attest
to it's effectiveness, although I am harking back to the afore
mentioned drinking contest era. Just a word of warning though
Underberg is 44% ABV but as the sign on the fridge of my local pub
says – Avoid hangovers stay drunk!
For those of you that
have never suffered a hangover let me just say there are indicators
that you are about to be struck down even before you roll out of bed.
My personal indicator is waking up with my socks on, I know then not
to make any sudden moves... AND to check my phone for inappropriate
sent messages!
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