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Charles MacLean is Scotland's
leading whisky writer. Over the last 15 years he has
written prolifically on the subject, has broadcasted
on television and radio and has presented lectures
and tastings in the UK and abroad.
He is regular contributor to
Decanter magazine and The Malt Advocate in the US.
He is also contributing editor of the Whisky
Magazine and the Scotch Malt Whisky Society's
Newsletter and chairs it's nosing panel.
His full-length books include
Mitchell Beazley's successful Pocket Whisky Book,
the standard work on whisky brands.
In recognition of his services to
Scotch whisky over many years he was elected "Keeper
of the Quaich" in 1991, the highest honor the whisky
industry can bestow. He lives near Edinburgh.
“My first return of sense or
recollection was upon waking in a strange,
dismal-looking room, my head aching horridly, pains
of a violent nature in every limb, and deadly
sickness at the stomach. From the latter I was in
some degree relieved by a very copious vomiting.
Getting out of bed, I looked out of the only window
in the room, but saw nothing but the backs of old
houses... At that moment I do not believe in the
world there existed a more wretched creature than
myself. I passed some moments in a state little
short of despair; I rung a bell I found in the room
for the purpose of ascertaining where I had got to
and other particulars.”
These lines might have come from
my autobiography. Or yours. In fact they were penned
by the English writer and social commentator William
Hickey in 1768. His cure? Drinking “very strong
coffee, proved of infinite benefit.”
His contemporary, James Boswell,
suffered the consequences of a terrific drinking
session while staying with Mackinnon of Corry near
Broadford in Skye, in September 1773, during his
epic journey to Hebrides with Dr.Johnson. On this
occasion, the company was drinking brandy.
“I awakened at noon with a severe
headache,” he writes in his Journal, “Soon
afterwards, Corrie and other friends assembled
around my bed. Corrie had a brandy bottle and
glasses with him and insisted that I should take a
dram ... I took my host’s advice and drunk some
brandy, which I found an effectual cure for my
headache.”
A contemporary head-barman, Adam
Heiron of the fashionable Atlantic Bar and Grill in
London, England, combines both Hickey and Boswell’s
remedies and adds a third ingredient: “coffee,
orange juice and ice-cold Jagermeister has kept me
partying non-stop for 10 days.”
Keith Flyd, a well-known TV chef
and bon viveur, swears by “Two handfuls of crashed
ice in a glass of tinned beef consommé. And a shot
of vodka, the juice of one lemon, a splash of
Worcestershire sauce, a dash of Tabasco, 1 teaspoon
of horseradish and the yolk of an egg. Sprinkle with
salt and pepper. The effect is quite bracing, but
not for the squeamish.”
This bears a resemblance to the
classic pick-me-up, the Prairie Oyster invented
during Prohibition, when bootleg grog wrought a
terrible revenge the morning after. Here is a recipe
from 1948, by David Amber, ‘the Escoffier of
cocktail barmen’: “equal measures of cognac,
vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, catsup, and
angostura. Drop an egg yolk in the center, add a
dash of cayenne. Swallow without breaking the egg.”
I recently made and drank this concoction on a
television program. It tasted surprisingly good,
although I spilled some down my tie while gagging on
the egg!
To understand the thinking behind
these traditional cures we must look more closely at
the affects of alcohol. There are six, with side
affects. First, dehydration. Alcohol is a diuretic
(it makes you pee), and dehydration lies behind many
of the symptoms of hangover. It is countered by
drinking water, lots of it. Before, during and after
imbibing. It would be contrary to immemorial custom
- and wimpish - for the librarian to lay on jugs of
water in the library, but members would be well
advised to drink as much water as they can before
going to bed. And when they awaken at the call of
Nature in the early dawn, to drink more.
Second, headache. Alcohol goes
quickly to the head, where it cheerfully
anaesthetizes first the inhibitory and later the
motor centers of the brain. It also stimulates
increased cardiac output, which rises blood
pressure, causing the brain to swell. Both these
cause headaches, which are alleviated by swallowing
a couple of analgesics (i.e. painkillers) such as
aspirin, codeine, or acetaminophen. I once met a
Norwegian physician who had discovered a miraculous
hangover cure used by the Lapps, made by drawing off
sap from certain northern willows. Chemical analysis
revealed that the active ingredients in this sap
was...aspirin.
Third, fatigue. Alcohol is both a
stimulant and sedative. On the one hand it
stimulates the production of insulin which reduces
blood sugar and causes drowsiness. On the other, the
anesthetic affect I have already touched on gives
rise to a form of mild paralysis, leading to
stumbling and falling about. To compensate for this
the nervous system goes into over-drive, which makes
for broken sleep, photophobia (‘shrinking from
light’), ligyrophobia (‘an aversion for loud
noises’) and tremor (‘involuntary agitation’).
First, it is necessary to replace
your lost blood sugar. This is where ‘Scotland’s
other national drink,’ Irn Bru (pronounced aptly as
‘Iron Brew’, comes in. A glass of water with sugar
dissolved in it, or sweet cups of tea, will also do
the trick. Bananas are good, since they are high in
fructose (fruit sugar) and also settle the liver.
Tiredness is ideally overcome by more sleep, but for
many of us this is impossible, and we are forced to
rely on stimulants like black coffee to keep us
awake.
Fourth, nausea. Stomach acidity
increases dramatically when tummies are filled with
alcohol. This causes irritation, and to counter this
the stomach produces mucous, which in its turn leads
to vomiting.
Increased acidity also causes the
valve which connects the stomach to the small
intestine (called the pylorus) to go into spasm and
close down. The alcohol is then trapped in the
stomach, and mucous flows: a vicious circle.
Stomach acidity is reduced by
alkaline solutions like Alka-Seltzer, Bisodol, or
bicarbonate of soda. Milk, yogurt, or olive oil
soothe the irritated stomach lining. Food before
drinking, or during, also lines the stomach, keeping
the valve operating. A wonder-drug called Maxolon
relaxes the pylorus scientifically, and allows the
stomach, filled with the poisons you have imbibed,
to pass on and be evacuated. As an alternative, you
might choose to follow the Roman custom to eat a
plate of boiled cabbage before retiring to bed.
Cabbage is in face a ‘chelator,’ a substance which
amalgamates with others - including alcohol - and
carries them out of the body. The ancients were not
daft.
The fifth symptom: liverish. All
this time your liver, whose job it is to break down
the alcohol, is working overtime. But work though it
does, it can only metabolize alcohol at the rate of
about 10 mls per hour. The following morning the
tired old liver can be revived by large doses of
Vitamin C - orange juice is good, but a 1000 ml
tablet of effervescent Vitamin C is more realistic.
Vitamin B is also invaluable here.
Sixth: those familiar feelings of
remorse, anxiety, and guilt. John Kears wrote sadly:
‘Wine is only sweet to happy men’ and recent medical
research indicates that psychosocial factors such as
guilt about drinking, a neurotic personality, or
‘negative life events’ are better predictors of
hangover than the amount of alcohol consumed. Guilt
is often related to what one did or said during
intoxication. It is sometimes difficult to remember
such things, which can lead to confusion and dread.
The famous English author, Sir Kingsley Amis,
recommended ‘vigorous sex’ as a hangover cure -
although he goes on to observe that this should be
with ‘an appropriate partner,’ or the guilt will be
compounded. There is no doubt that exercise, massage
and sauna baths are all good cures, if you are up to
it. ‘Heart starters’, if you like; also they sweat
out some of the toxins still harbored by the poor
body. Even a hot bath or a wet shave - preferably
being shaved by a barber, with hot towels and eau de
Cologne - perform a similar function.
This introduces a group of
remedies especially useful in allaying the
psychological aspects of hangover, which might
accurately be referred to as ‘comfort factors.’ Many
popular cures actually fall into this category,
although most have some dim physiological
foundation. For example, I am told that Australians
swear by a greasy hamburger or meat pie smothered in
ketchup and washed down with tomato juice. The
Austrians prefer sauerkraut and sausages, the
Germans soused herrings and Pils; the Irish,
predictably, oysters and Guinness. The novelist
Alistair Maclean liked kippers marinated in lemon
juice; the wine writer, Andre Simon, raw herrings,
onions, and sour cream. Some feel better for a full
breakfast of eggs and bacon, toast, and marmalade.
In my experience, this often seems like a good idea,
when one wakes up hung-over in a hotel, but
invariably turns out not to be.
The most civilized ‘comfort cure’
I have heard of is half a pint of Buck’s Fizz,
accompanied by a plate of very hot fingers of French
toast dipped in yolk of egg, anchovy essence, and
cayenne pepper, and lightly fried in butter. These
should be eaten alone, in subdued light, with a
choral Mass on the stereo, while reclining on a
chaise longue after a hot bath.
The Hair of the Dog
You may have noticed that many of
the hangover cures I have mentioned recommend a
further intake of alcohol the morning after. The
‘hair of the dog,’ first remarked upon by Antiphanes
in 479 BC. Surely this merely delays the evil
effects of drink?
A recent article in the British
Medical Journal (4 January 1997, by Dr. Ian Calder)
reveals that ethanol (pure ethyl alcohol, that which
makes us drunk) may play only a minor role in
producing the symptoms of hangover. He points out
that hangovers are worst when almost all ethanol has
been cleared from the blood - the familiar
experience of wakening up feeling not too bad and
then feeling ghastly by the end of the morning.
Doctors now believe that the real causes of
hangovers are ‘congeners’ - the complex organic
compounds which lend aroma and flavor to alcohol,
rather than ethanol itself. Congeners also lend
color, which is why one feels worse after a night on
brandy, port, red wine, or whisk(e)y (in descending
order of severity) than when drinking white wine,
gin, or vodka. Far and away the worst of the many
congeners present in alcohol, albeit in minute
quantities, is methanol. Also called “wood alcohol,’
this is poisonous in even small doses. My father, a
ship’s surgeon during World War II, was called to a
captured U-boat at Rosyth, near Edinburgh, during
Christmas 1945. The sailors, who had not yet been
repatriated, had been making ‘schnappes’ by crudely
distilling torpedo-tube cleaning fluid. By the time
he arrived three were dead and six blind. The
distillate was methyl, not ethyl, alcohol. The
quantity of methanol in a normal alcoholic drink is
minuscule, but medical scientists believe that this
tiny amount, metabolized into formaldehyde and
formic acid, is the principal cause of the
hangover.(Jones, A.W.: Elimination half-life of
methanol during hangover; 1987). And the cure for
this? You guessed it; a small dose of ethanol the
following morning blocks the formation of
formaldehyde and formic acid, and thus, in the words
of the BMJ ‘provides an effective treatment for
hangovers.’ In conclusion, however, I must sound a
note of caution. Alcohol (i.e. ethanol and methanol)
is by no means the only contributor to the hangover.
Many other factors play a part - lack of sleep,
over-eating, smoking, emotional disturbances, and
intellectual stimulation, for example. In fact, so
many factors are involved that a universally
effective treatment is probably impossible. The
experts argue that it is also undesirable, since the
fear of hangover prompts some of us to moderate our
alcoholic intake. The argument runs that, since even
moderate amounts of alcohol can be damaging, a
penalty for consumption is in our interests. Who am
I to suggest otherwise?
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