I’m loving
A CAUTIONARY TALE
Matt Preston’s close shave with death.
2.30pm: It seemed so innocuous. Blitz 200g cherries in the $2000+ smoothie maker with a little Croatian cherry wine and a shot of vodka. I’ll strain out the chunks of cherry pit and use the liquid as a base for a refreshing cocktail for the annual street party. Interestingly, there’s nothing there when I strain it; the pits have been blitzed out of existence.
2.31pm: This really is the most fine summer cocktail, with the sweetness of the new season cherries bouncing against the vodka’s heat and balanced with a hint of almost almondy bitterness. That bitterness is interesting…
2.37pm: Something is nagging at the back of my mind. I remember the story of the food journo who was sacked for submitting an apricot jam recipe that included some of the apricot kernels, as so many old recipes also used to include. Why was that now?
3pm: Oh dear, my friends at respected food mag, Bon Appetit, tell me that cherries are one of eight everyday foods that could kill you if you eat enough of them. The good news is a cherry pit will do you little harm if you swallow it (although it’s not advised). Relief!
3.01pm: Relief evaporates at the next line “assuming you swallow it whole and don’t crack the pit and chew it up…” I check with other sources to see if grinding the seeds to a fine powder is the same. Oh dear, it’s actually worse. Grinding apparently frees up exactly the right amino acids in the cherry kernel that help activate the cyanide-like poison they hold. Ingesting just one or two freshly crushed pits can lead to death. Thanks online medical sites, that’s most informative, if hardly reassuring.
3.08pm: I go and weigh out 200g of cherries to discover that I’ve actually ingested about ten cherries and their pits. Basic maths time. That’s enough to kill a 680kg person. 3.09pm: I’m dead, aren’t I? 3.15pm: I ring the Poisons Information Centre and tell them my story. They tell me there is a good chance I will not die. Then they undo this good work by asking me how far it is to the nearest hospital and sounding relieved when I say “5 minutes”. I’m told if I have poisoned myself, the symptoms will take between 30 and 90 minutes to appear. These symptoms include headache, dizziness, confusion, anxiety, and vomiting. On hearing this I immediately feel four of these. I’m not sure if it is panic or the poison.
3.22pm: Out in the street the woman I love is hanging bunting for the street party. I tell her there is a good chance I might be dead in 83 minutes. I suspect a faint eye-roll as she turns away, back to her bunting. I remember reading somewhere that some deal with tragedy by burying themselves in menial tasks. I suppose she must be one of those…
4.15pm: I’m not dead yet, which is a good sign. I decide I’d better have a slice of toast and a nice cup of tea. Tea is calming after all. I realise that this could very well be my last meal. So I cut the cold butter thicker than usual and slather on my favourite raspberry jam.
4.54pm: Outside in the street the woman I love is helping lay the table for the street party. She’s laughing with the local divorcee. It appears she’s already “moving on”. Good on her…
7pm: Perhaps the vodka nullified the poison, maybe after all that training my gut is actually superhuman, or maybe there is the teensiest possibility that internet medical advice is not always totally correct. Whatever the reason, I’m alive!