A rev­o­lu­tion­ary drink you’re go­ing to love

Esquire (UK) - - Contents - By Char­lie Teas­dale

“Boss, I’ve found a com­pany in Amer­ica that claim to have cre­ated a drink that se­verely lessens the af­ter-ef­fects of drink­ing al­co­hol.” “Right…”

“It stops you get­ting a hang­over, ap­par­ently. I want to get drunk, test it out and write about it.”

“OK, but you need to get re­ally drunk.” “Sure thing, boss.”

So I got re­ally drunk. The kind of drunk that takes a full day to ar­rive. A sweaty, sad drunk that comes from wine at lunch, beer in the af­ter­noon and gin in the evening. I ate only crisps. Nor­mally, I hit some­thing of a wall af­ter a few hours; the floor spins, ev­ery­thing be­comes just out of reach, and if any­thing more goes in then there’s a good chance it won’t stay in for long. But this was work, and I’m a hard worker, so the drinks kept com­ing.

Ear­lier in the day, I’d spo­ken to Rosy Zhao, who works at 82 Labs in Los An­ge­les, the drinks com­pany be­hind Morn­ing Re­cov­ery. I asked ques­tions about its ef­fec­tive­ness, whether there were any side ef­fects and if there was a limit to how much I could drink be­fore it was re­dun­dant. If I stayed up all night on the Dubon­net and so­das, could the po­tion have me square for a 9.15am break­fast meet­ing?

“I think you’re try­ing to fig­ure out the rel­a­tiv­ity of how much you’re try­ing to take the pain away, right?”

Some­how, over the phone from over 5,000 miles away, she had looked into my very soul. But, yes, I wanted to know the lim­its of its suc­cour. “You’re not go­ing to feel 110 per cent [the morn­ing af­ter], but it will get you to 80 per cent,” as­serted Zhao.

The drink uses elec­trolytes, vi­ta­mins, amino acids and Hove­nia dul­cis (DHM), a Ja­panese raisin tree ex­tract that is used as a rem­edy for liver ail­ments (and hang­overs) through­out Asia. It speeds up the liver’s abil­ity to flush out tox­ins. So it’s best taken while you’re drink­ing, or within an hour of your last drink, which I deemed the best op­tion.

My usual pre-bed, anti-hang­over prep con­sists of a pint or two of “Lon­don springs” and a cou­ple of Nuro­fen. But this time I sim­ply pulled my chilled Morn­ing Re­cov­ery from the fridge, slung the 100ml of slightly vis­cose, peach­flavoured elixir down my gul­let and got into bed.

Did it work? Yes! (And no.)

Seven or so hours later, the sun streamed in on me, and I was hun­gover. But the fa­mil­iar post-booz­ing fog wasn’t as thick. I was slug­gish, but my in­sides felt clean, like a chip van af­ter an oil change. I had a small but very real headache, but I’d say that I was at 60 per cent. Less than Zhao had promised, but not bad.

“It’s not an en­ergy drink,” she had ex­plained, “you’re wak­ing up with the in­ten­tion of an ab­sence of some­thing, ver­sus a kick. So peo­ple are a lit­tle con­fused.”

Would I use Morn­ing Re­cov­ery again? Prob­a­bly. Maybe at a fes­ti­val or some­thing, but I’m not go­ing to bank on it swat­ting away the back­lash of an eight-Mar­tini din­ner. I’m a firm be­liever that you get the hang­over you de­serve, and if you can’t han­dle the pun­ish­ment, don’t com­mit the crime.

“If you ac­tu­ally want to feel some­thing phys­i­cal, then that would be as­so­ci­ated with drink­ing.” I’d asked Zhao if Morn­ing Re­cov­ery would have any ef­fect if you hadn’t al­ready con­sumed al­co­hol. But I think she hit upon a wider truth. Booze is the great, vis­ceral lev­eller, and the “some­thing” isn’t any­thing with­out the nothing that comes af­ter.

£54/12 bot­tles (100ml each); int.morn­ingre­cov­ery­drink.com

The fa­mil­iar post-booz­ing fog wasn’t as thick. I was slug­gish but my in­sides felt clean… I had a small but very real headache

‘Three more large ones for the road!’: John Good­man, Will Fer­rell and Alec Bald­win as hard-drink­ing sales­men on Satur­day Night Live, De­cem­ber 1998

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