Tag Archives: hangover cure

In which Tony and The Admiral continue Project X, their quest for an effective hangover cure, with dedicated input from Suave Gav.

Suave Gav was punctual, early even, and carried a heavy briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. He strode confidently around the room as introductions were made. “It’s quite alright,” he said. “I haven’t been followed.” Without delay he unlocked the cuffs, discarded his jacket and opened the case, unpacking an apron, funnel, several small jars with cloth coverings, test tubes, various twigs and roots, a syringe and finally a sheaf of papers bound together by elastic bands. He was certainly taking this evening seriously. By contrast, The Admiral produced his notepad of equations and a ceramic jug with a cork in the top. He seemed a little over-awed by Suave Gav’s intensity. I could see a little self-doubt flicker across his face.

Gavin was generous with his knowledge, at least for one whose knowledge arrived handcuffed to him. At length he outlined the extent of his research, pinning diagrams to the wall and highlighting with a laser pen. It was the nearest thing to a lecture I would ever witness. He explained the struggle he’d had in trying to produce an elixir from the branches of the Turpitude plant and made it sound as if it had been his life’s work. It had only been a week. Clearly he’d given up his day job or abandoned the whole idea of sleep in order to focus. He was committed. And if he wasn’t, he should be.

Suave Gav Wades In

November 23, 2011

In which Tony and The Admiral continue Project X, their quest for an effective hangover cure, with dedicated input from Suave Gav. Suave Gav was punctual, early even, and carried a heavy briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. He strode confidently around the room as introductions were made. “It’s quite alright,” he said. “I haven’t … Continue reading →

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In which Tony and The Admiral continue the development of their hangover cure by inviting bon viveur Suave Gav to contribute.

The Admiral said he was only too happy to confer with a fellow gastronomic engineer on what we’d begun to call Project X. We didn’t call it Project X because it sounded cool or enigmatic, it was just the 24^th such project we’d attempted. We were two projects away from starting again at Project A or finding some other alphabet to abuse.

When I explained to The Admiral that Suave Gav wasn’t actually an engineer but merely a hardened drinker with a vested interest in dealing with troublesome mornings after, The Admiral realised we were in Lorenzo’s Oil territory.

“All the better,” he said. “We must make our own miracles.”

Project X

November 6, 2011

In which Tony and The Admiral continue the development of their hangover cure by inviting bon viveur Suave Gav to contribute. The Admiral said he was only too happy to confer with a fellow gastronomic engineer on what we’d begun to call Project X. We didn’t call it Project X because it sounded cool … Continue reading →

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In which Tony's alleged cure for the common hangover continues to intrigue bon viveur and inebriate Suave Gav.

“I think you would agree," said Suave Gav, "that passion must be the key ingredient in the creation of a quality Bavarian liqueur.” Having tasted Blutwurz, I thought a ship-load of alcohol was the key ingredient but I'd already upset this fruitcake so I wasn’t about to contradict him. “However,” he continued, “I confess my associates and I also tend to imbibe with a passion. And as the after effects are known to grow steadily worse with age, it’s fair to say we have more than a passing interest in a positive solution to the problem.”

I fell silent and Suave Gav most wisely decided to spell this little verbal enigma out. “If you were not simply pulling my leg with your mention of gastronomic wizardry resulting in a cure for over-indulgence,” he said, “I should very much like to compare notes.”

“I see,” I said. “Well, The Admiral’s your man.”

“Admiral, you say? Sea-faring sort?”

“Not really. He just grew sideburns once.”

“We all make mistakes,” he replied. “Can I suggest a kitchen confab with this chap? Purely in the interests of science, of course. Ingredients discussed, recipes exchanged, vol-au-vents optional?”

“Well, as long as we’re expanding the boundaries of scientific knowledge,” I said, “I don’t see why not.” He was delusional, but at least for a change he wasn’t a design client.

The Passion Of Suave Gav

August 7, 2011

In which Tony's alleged cure for the common hangover continues to intrigue bon viveur and inebriate Suave Gav. “I think you would agree," said Suave Gav, "that passion must be the key ingredient in the creation of a quality Bavarian liqueur.” Having tasted Blutwurz, I thought a ship-load of alcohol was the key ingredient … Continue reading →

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In which Suave Gav explains his aversion to meat whilst Tony continues to walk on eggshells.

Suave Gav called, ostensibly to offer an apology for fainting when I mis-pronounced ‘blutwurz.’ I had been feeling rather sheepish about my faux-pas but I could never have expected even the most rabid vegan would be prone to passing out at the mention of blood sausage.

“I should think my parents had a sadistic streak,” said Gavin. “No animal was sacred in the Armstrong household and no animal part was off the menu. The beasts of the field would cower if we passed. Not that anything we ate ever resembled animal flesh - which was a blessing, for had my nine brothers and I known the origins of the various delicacies dished up, we would surely have mastered the art of hurling from an early age.

“The main justification seemed to be that it was ‘economical.’ That is, once the rich had done with the finer cuts of an animal, the remains would go to waste were it not for the Armstrongs. ‘I see,’ I said to my father. ‘But if they hadn’t slaughtered the beast in the first place, that particular problem wouldn’t have arisen.’ I thought this was an excellent observation for a five-year-old, but it landed me a clip around the ear.

“I don’t blame my parents. They did an otherwise excellent job of rearing my multitudinous siblings and I. In fact, anyone who knows me will confirm that I am a near-perfect physical specimen, despite the early gastronomic torture. But I hope what I have said goes some way towards explaining my sensitive disposition in this field.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ll be careful not to mention.. that word again.”

“The thing is,” said Gavin, “all of this is neither here nor there when there is a matter of far greater consequence for you and I to discuss.” I wondered what else I had said to offend him but this didn’t appear to be the issue. “Since our meeting at the Herbaceous Perennials, I’ve done some considerable research and even conducted a few preliminary experiments.”

“A new chutney?” I said.

Meat – The Parents

July 31, 2011

In which Suave Gav explains his aversion to meat whilst Tony continues to walk on eggshells. Suave Gav called, ostensibly to offer an apology for fainting when I mis-pronounced ‘blutwurz.’ I had been feeling rather sheepish about my faux-pas but I could never have expected even the most rabid vegan would be prone to … Continue reading →

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Dick split the silence. “Did you say hangover cure?”

“Yes, he did,” replied Suave Gav from the bar.

“And your friend,” said Dick, taking a notepad and pen from his jacket pocket. “You have an address for him?”

“Now, Dick,” said Gavin, “there’s plenty time for that. Let our guests enjoy a little Alsatian hospitality for the moment. Lights please, Ethel.” Ethel rose and cut the main lights, leaving us in the glow of candlelight. Gavin emerged from the bar, underlit by a ghostly blue haze. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced. “I give you - Blutwurz A La Flamme.”

We all clapped, although LaFlamme and I weren’t sure why. My mind was perhaps not at its sharpest after a few hours working with a succession of experimental martinis. All I could think was that it was tremendous somebody had named a drink after her.

Suave Gav laid a tray of oddly-shaped serving dishes on the table; a cross between miniature soup bowls and saucepans, with small protruding stumps for handles. Each contained a deep murky substance with a soft blue flame rising from the surface. It gave off a strong medicinal odour, sweet with strong hints of menthol and herbs. I began to feel quite woozy and my sinuses cleared instantly.

“Do you have any marshmallows?” said LaFlamme. The others laughed, but I think it was a serious question.

“Flambé can of course be an important part of the Blutwurz process,” said Gavin. “It both improves the flavour and reduces the alcohol content.”

“Aren’t you concerned about reducing the alcohol content?” I said, like a true lush.

“Ordinarily I might be,” he replied, “but as its original content is around 60% and burning for five minutes reduces it to only around 45, it’s not something we get too concerned about.” No wonder these guys were interested in a hangover cure. I gulped nervously. I was already intoxicated by the Blutwurz odour, I wasn’t sure I actually needed to drink it.

But drink it I did. It was warm, with a bitter taste of unripe citrus fruit and Italian herbs, rosemary, marjoram, bay, a nutty kind of Edam and just the faintest hint of vanilla. Not that my palate was sharp enough to detect these flavours, I just overheard the gastronomes at the table as they savoured it.

I felt distinctly giddy when the drink was finished but giddiness turned to alarm once Ethel turned up the house lights. I was surrounded by a sea of black teeth. I turned to LaFlamme. Her lips were dark. She had drifted off and was lightly snoring, the empty miniature soup bowl still clutched in her hands. This wasn’t a comment on the evening, merely something LaFlamme did when light was low. It was a good thing to remember for times when she was obstreperous. A bit like having a budgie hood.

Blutwurz A La Flamme

July 12, 2011

Dick split the silence. “Did you say hangover cure?” “Yes, he did,” replied Suave Gav from the bar. “And your friend,” said Dick, taking a notepad and pen from his jacket pocket. “You have an address for him?” “Now, Dick,” said Gavin, “there’s plenty time for that. Let our guests enjoy a little Alsatian hospitality … Continue reading →

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The chutneys came thick and fast, served with Suave Gav’s own specialty breads - olive and onion amongst them - alongside numerous dips, spreads and Dick’s selection of baroque cheeses. Some of the outstanding creations the quartet had prepared included Onion Marmalade With White Wine And Herbs, Hot And Sweet Cranberry Relish, Pineapple Ginger Salsa, Chestnut And Ginger In Red Wine Vinegar Pate, and Every Single Word In The Title Capitalised. One thing was sure. These weirdos could cook.

We may have been a mismatched grouping to begin with but we seemed to gel. Whilst we regarded them as oddballs from a glamorous distant past, we too appeared to be something of a novelty to them. LaFlamme, who can be difficult at dinner parties due to her low boredom threshold, behaved remarkably well around our hosts. I think she was genuinely confused.

“How do you get your hair to sit like that?” asked Jane, who had the most perfect beehive I’d ever seen.

“I iron it,” replied LaFlamme.

“Oh,” said Jane excitedly. “Do you have tongs?”

“I have an ironing board,” said LaFlamme.

When Suave Gav said he had an announcement to make, LaFlamme and I simply gazed up at him like ten-year-olds at a birthday party.

“First,” he said, “a crucial question. Bavarian summer or Alpine winter?” There was a collective ‘ooh’ from the gathering. “In other words, would you prefer your Blutwurz flaming or on the rocks?”

Without hesitation Dick and Jane began chanting ‘flaming, flaming.’

“In that case, we’re heading for the Apres Ski,” said Gavin, retreating behind the bar. “Whilst I make the final preparations, perhaps Tony might like to recant to the group his most fascinating insight into our beloved blood root.” I wasn’t sure what this meant in English but was sufficiently emboldened by the Brandy And Olive Mustard to address the gathering.

“Well,” I began, “a friend of ours heard about this plant. It’s called Torpentile or Turniptil or something.”

“Tormentil,” said Gavin.

“We’ve been working with it for a while now. It’s very refreshing. And we always feel pretty good after it. I don’t know if it is actually a hangover cure, but..” For some reason this grabbed their attention. “All I can say is it’s still under development and we look forward to working with it some more.” Even the virulent cocktail jazz had ceased, which was remarkable given that there had been no exorcism. The only sound was Suave Gav whistling softly with one ear still cocked towards the conversation.

Dick split the silence. “Did you say hangover cure?”

The Cure

July 4, 2011

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