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.