Liver lit­tle! Have a wee drink!

The Courier & Advertiser (Perth and Perthshire Edition) - - NEWS | OPINION -

Cof­fee is good for the liver. I’m glad some­thing is, although I am do­ing my level best to keep my head above water and the rest of my sorry old cor­pus in what passes for a recog­nis­ably hu­man shape by dint of mak­ing my liver the best ex­er­cised part of me.

I may be us­ing Bell’s in­stead of ket­tle­bells and Pil­sner in­stead of pi­lates but surely mak­ing some kind of ef­fort counts for some­thing, if only a few stray calo­ries, along the way?

There is not yet, to my knowl­edge, a booze-re­lated ver­sion of the Fit­bit, mea­sur­ing steps on the road to (mother’s) ruin.

I work on the Bi­b­li­cal prin­ci­ple, be­ing highly se­lec­tive in what I care to be­lieve from the con­tents of the Good Book, of tak­ing a lit­tle wine for thy stom­ach’s sake.

And, it would seem, although the main pro­po­nent of the Chris­tian faith on earth had form on turn­ing water into wine rather than pro­duc­ing an ac­cept­able Amer­i­cano Smooth, the same re­la­tion­ship might be forged be­tween cof­fee and the in­ter­nal of­fal.

Caf­feine, it ap­pears, is the very dab for pre­vent­ing said of­fal, known for its Doc­tor Who-like pow­ers of re­gen­er­a­tion, from trans­form­ing it­self into the hu­man equiv­a­lent of foie gras.

Two cups a day can, it is claimed, halve the risk of liver dam­age.

Although it’s prob­a­bly a bit like rob­bing Peter to pay Paul (saints or prophets aside) if you’re tank­ing up the poor old throb­bing or­gan to burst­ing point in the first place be­fore dous­ing it with lively bean juice. If I stopped drink­ing now, mine would prob­a­bly die of shock and then where would I be? An­swers on a post­card… In a strange, can­ni­bal­is­tic kind of way, liver is also one of my favourite dishes which is per­haps why I am mar­i­nat­ing my own on the hoof, so to speak.

Some friends of mine and I have formed an im­promptu, oc­ca­sional din­ing club called Ladies Who Love Liver where all kinds of rich and strange recipes are tried out, ac­com­pa­nied by richer and stranger red wines.

Now we have the per­fect ex­cuse to go for the se­ri­ous af­ter-din­ner cof­fee, too.

We’re not be­ing like a kind of se­lec­tive, car­niv­o­rous re­verse Muir­field about this, in not al­low­ing men in.

It’s just that we haven’t, among our wider male ac­quain­tance, found many of them who can bear the stuff. It must be all the iron that we pinkly anaemic girlies so of­ten lack that does the trick for the fe­male of the species.

Although I sus­pect it’s the prospect of treats like fried onions and mus­tard cream sauce that tips the bal­ance, not to men­tion the scales. Yum!

So, hav­ing ad­mit­ted to us­ing the good old Tas­simo al­most as of­ten as the Waiter’s Friend, I still know where to draw the line.

I turn my face away and my nose up at a pur­ported diet aid of which, un­til re­cently, I was hap­pily ig­no­rant.

There is, it seems, an abom­i­na­tion in our midst con­sist­ing of cof­fee made with but­ter.

Now, I have noth­ing against but­ter per se although I don’t eat a lot of it. But as far as I am con­cerned the best and only place for but­ter is lav­ished on a scone.

This hor­ror bev­er­age is ap­par­ently known as “bul­let­proof” cof­fee.

Aptly, as my first re­ac­tion to the no­tion that any­one could per­pe­trate this ridicu­lous cha­rade and crime against the great bean is that they should be shot.

All in the name of weight loss, too, although I sur­mise that the ap­palling brew is not so much slim­line as just plain slimy. And just wrong.

Mind you, on the counter-in­tu­itive prin­ci­ple that what seems bad for you is ac­tu­ally do­ing you good, I have also learned in this sea­son of high pollen counts and all kinds of snot­tery al­ler­gies that a good old G&T can soothe hay fever.

Which per­haps ac­counts for the ir­re­sistible rise of the ap­pro­pri­ate­ly­named Fever Tree tonic brand.

It’s all to do with sul­phites and his­tamines and trig­gers and all that sort of stuff, as, in spite of the fact that al­co­hol is reck­oned by many to make their symp­toms worse, that’s mainly if the bevvy in ques­tion is of the darker, fer­mented type.

Clear dis­til­la­tions, like gin and even the odd wee vod­die, can do your of­fended nasal ori­fice and itch­ing throat a power of good.

And this is ac­cord­ing to no less an au­thor­ity than Asthma UK.

This, as you might as­sume, adds greatly to the gai­ety of na­tions round our way, where we only missed the re­cent cel­e­bra­tion of Na­tional Gin Day be­cause we didn’t no­tice it was any dif­fer­ent from any other day in our house.

That won­der­fully eu­phemistic phrase “for medic­i­nal pur­poses only” takes on a whole new mean­ing when you come across com­fort­ing and self­jus­ti­fy­ing sto­ries like these.

All it means is you can go on do­ing ex­actly what you’ve been do­ing all this time.

If you know what’s good for you.

Pic­ture: Getty Im­ages.

Cof­fee is good for you, ac­cord­ing to re­searchers. And He­len.

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