Hungoevr, um, hangover cure is wisdom shared by someone who knows a thing or three about stretching out the morning after a party. And he tells you how you can heal your ailments.
CCelebrated last night? Even if you were at home?
That’s what we thought. Fortunately, the author of The Hungoevr Cookbook, (and no, that’s not a typo, it’s cleverly written), from which the following ideas and whims are taken, has, in his opinion, “conjured up “a very short series of entertaining visual tests and a short questionnaire that will give you a definitive statement “Diagnosis.” That means a definitive diagnosis as to the severity of your hangover, whether you’re feeling dizzy like a cement mixer or knocked out by the Atomic.
Below is an abridged version of his diagnosis and the remedy prescribed. It might sound a little unconventional, a bit like Ralphie in A Christmas Carol. Mail the Secret Society Decoder, except it’s really worth mailing this little tome away or stopping by your local bookseller. Or at least read the following excerpt in a slightly shorter form. As with most things in life, you can only do something about a problem if you are fully aware of it. Much luck.–David Leite
A hangover is an opportunity.
I let that sink in for a moment.
You may not think so now, but a hangover is an opportunity to see and taste the world in a new way. It’s a chance for spontaneity and whimsy, for an experience to enjoy, not just endure.
What follows is a therapeutic collection of recipes, a gastronomic comedy, a burlesque homage to the possibility of wresting hope from failure, triumph from despair, laughter from tragedy. If you’re really not in the mood—a mindset I completely understand, by the way—just pop some painkillers, drink some water, and go right back to bed. But if you have an appetite, then read on.
Come. Let’s step boldly into this brave new world.
***
Before you can even think about fighting your hangover, you need to figure out what type of hangover you have, as each has its own specific characteristics:
The sewing machine cat
It’s long and very sharp. It hurts. And it stabs you with military precision in various parts of your head, sometimes right between your eyes, sometimes in your temples, and sometimes in the top of your skull, which today feels as thin and delicate as an eggshell.
You need something to eat that is calming and soothing. Like Elvis Presley’s peanut butter, banana, and bacon sandwich. [Editor’s Note: Or the next closest thing–frozen chocolate-covered bananas with crumbled bacon and chopped peanuts]. Perfect scrambled eggs. Puff pastry croissants. Homemade Nutella. Mexican hot chocolate. Soft boiled eggs and toast.
The Broken Compass Hangover
This is a distinctly psychological type of hangover that Kingsley Amis might have described as deeply metaphysical. In his authoritative and masterful tome on alcohol, On DrinkAmis wrote that a metaphysical hangover of this kind has “that indescribable combination of depression, sadness, anxiety, self-loathing, failure, and fear of the future.” ”
Hence your lack of direction and certainty, and your general expression of desperate confusion, anxiety, fear and disgust. You also feel completely directionless and indecisive. Life has a purpose, you just need some spice to make things beautiful. Recreation comes in the form of Mexican or ranch eggs (huevos rancheros), homemade sriracha sauce, or a heavily spiced-up twist on Bloody Mary.
The comet cat
When you, dear space cadet, you have the comet, you’re surrounded by a hazy atmosphere of ice, rock, and gases swirling through stardust, and you’re generally out with the fairies. You are fine in many ways. But you also feel slurred and occasionally, though not terribly, a little hysterical. You feel like you’ve somehow lost direct contact with the world. A line from any song or even a single thought seems stuck in your brain, like “Who the hell invented Tuesday?”
To be honest, you need something to break through that kind of cosmic crap — try recipes with fizz, crunch, or bite, like homemade lime lemonade, homemade Greek yogurt with almond-coconut granola, or stilton and pears on toast [Editor’s Note: Or this pear tart with blue cheese and honey.]
The nuclear cat
When you’re blown away by The Atomic, you feel like an atomic blast has exploded inside your skull. I suspect that when you look in the mirror you still see a mushroom cloud over your head, evidence of the explosion that took place inside you. The explosion left a huge crater.
The result is a headache and a feeling like your intestines have been ripped out. You don’t have nausea, but you do have an enormous appetite. The best thing you can do other than replace lost fluids is eat. A lot.
Try savory recipes that undo some of the damage alcohol has done, like a Portuguese sausage frittata, bacon mashed potatoes, breakfast quinoa, and even spaghetti carbonara.
The Concrete Mixer Cat
When you have the deeply nauseous cement mixer, you feel like someone ripped your head off and threw a cement mixer in you before sealing you back up. You need to turn off the concrete mixer. Immediately. But how?
First off, I suggest you eat something to settle your stomach and bring the world to a halt again. Try something from a gentle selection of soothing things. The perfect tea and cinnamon toast. Classic french toast. A sweet lassi. Crispy potato pancakes and poached eggs. A banana smoothie.
The Gremlin Boogie Cat
This hangover is greatly feared as it represents the nadir of the hangover state, the dark, unmoving mud at the bottom of a vast sewer. It combines both acute physical and psychological symptoms. It’s a living nightmare. In fact, you could also call it “Apocalypse Now”.“, for its intensity is such that one has the feeling that one could be a doomed figure in a Hieronymus Bosch Painting or indeed the living embodiment of a portrait distorted by Francis Bacon.
When you, poor little lamb, have the most desperate gremlin boogie, you may experience a number of the following symptoms: nausea; a floating, aching head; cold sweat; shaking hands; Tremble; Cough; prickly eyes; and lancinating pain throughout the body. Between the pain and the fever there are nightmarish visions of what might have happened last night, things you don’t quite know if they’re true or not.
You feel terrible guilt. Moments of existential clarity and a sense of really getting to the bottom of one’s “self” mix with a general sense of doom and futility. You may feel that these are the end times for you: either the world is about to end, or your own continued participation in it seems tenuous at best.
I would recommend having breakfast. You may not want to. You may doubt your ability to eat at all.
However, especially clean, wholesome foods should help quell nausea, restore your pulse, and relieve cold sweats. Try a melon, feta and ham salad. [Editor’s Note: Or a prosciutto and mozzarella sandwich with cantaloupe soup.] Or Benedict’s smoked salmon eggs, topped with easy-to-mix hollandaise sauce. Carrot, Orange, Apple and Ginger Juice. And if you really can’t stand breakfast, then maybe getting plenty of rest and plenty of water is the only cure for you.
Author and editor’s note: The author and editor would like to point out that it is you who got drunk. We accept no responsibility for your intoxication, hangover or any resulting health effects.
In this case, it is also not our responsibility to cure you of your illness. Any accidents or mishaps that happen to you while trying to do this yourself are entirely at your own risk. Much luck!
Extract from The Hungoevr Cookbook © 2010 Milton Crawford. Illustration © 2010 300million. All rights reserved.