Sometimes there are things in life that seem too good to be true. Like the fact that people from Hamburg, Germany are, by definition, called Hamburgers. And how the fastest human on the planet has the surname Bolt. Just this past August there were reports from the medical community that added to the train of sweet irony: Australian scientists potentially found the most unlikely of cures to what wide-eyed college students might refer to as the modern plague—the morning after hangover. Studies suggest that the answer may have even been in front of us all along, in the form of Korean pear juice.
Yet, before we collectively swan dive into a pool filled with pear juice, it might be prudent to understand the history of the hangover. Although I wasn’t present when alcohol was initially conceived, I remain fairly confident the first ever hangover occurred that following morning. From the beginning, hangover remedies have long plagued and perplexed our species. Pliny the Elder, a philosopher and army commander of the early Roman Empire, counseled his people to eat fried canaries or raw owl’s eggs (ironically, there now exists a California IPA beer that bears Pliny the Elder’s name). Ancient Assyrians (c. 1250 B.C. - 612 B.C.) seemed to still be drunk when they went about consuming ground bird beaks and incense. The Mongolians, never to be outdone, ate pickled sheep’s eyes. Puerto Ricans took the more natural route by rubbing lemons under their armpits before knocking a few back. Or, there was always the Hemingway approach. The novelist was no stranger to a night of over-imbibing, or its repercussions. His hangover solution was said to be tomato juice and beer. Sound advice from the man who once wrote, “an intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools.”
Of course, I’ve known all too well what a hangover felt like, but before testing the merits of the supposed miracle drink, I had to understand what, scientifically speaking, a hangover meant. My first attempts were through Dr. Google M.D., the best search engine/physician I have come to rely on. According to the all-knowing machine, a hangover is when dehydration, caused by the diuretic effect of ethanol, eventually leads to the shrinkage of brain tissue, and causes, among many symptoms, severe headache. Simply knowing this information will make my future hangovers so much worse.
This finding led to my next question: What the hell can pear juice do to ensure my brain tissue doesn’t shrink? According to the study conducted by Australian researchers (and shout out to the Aussies for researching hangover cures) at the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organization (CISRO), subjects who consumed around one cup of Korean pear juice before drinking alcohol had fewer and/or diminished hangover symptoms the following day. Of all the hangover symptoms (and there are many), the greatest improvement was seen in the subjects' ability to concentrate. Korean pear juice also has anti-inflammatory agents, which will serve in relieving that unbelievably stiff headache. Researchers haven’t been able to pinpoint the exact reasoning behind the Korean pear juice phenomenon just yet. However, according to professor Manny Noakes, lead scientist of the study, Korean pear juice contains enzymes that are necessary for speeding up alcohol metabolism and slightly inhibiting alcohol absorption. In other words, understanding science and using it to my benefit would actually make my head feel better, not worse, as it did throughout my early schooling career.
Naturally, I felt the urge to test it myself. So, I did what I do quite well—I went out and drank a lot. Yet, before doing so, I needed to get my hands on some Korean pear juice, and as the Aussie’s advised, drink roughly one cup of the liquid gold before I cracked open that first beer. (Note: for comparisons sake, one cup of Korean pear juice is slightly less liquid than a standard 12 oz. can of beer).
This past weekend, me and a group of eleven friends from Condé Nast rented a house on Fire Island. Before leaving Manhattan early Saturday morning, I stopped by a local, East Village Korean grocery store to pick up what I felt to be the equivalent of a radiation Hazmat suit.
Boarding the train Saturday morning with two close friends who were staying in the house, I opened the Korean pear juice and guzzled down a cups worth, as the study suggested I do. When Colin, my good friend from Wired, asked why I was drinking pear juice, I explained. Immediately I could see his interest piqued in the supernatural powers this juice potentially contained. After a few minutes of discussion, it was set: Since Colin and I were approximately the same height and weight, we would go drink for drink all day and night on the island. The only difference being that I would drink the Korean pear juice, and he would not. We decided our diets needed to be identical that day as well, so, in the name of science, we devoured our morning bacon, egg and cheese bagels on the commute into Fire Island.
Not content solely relying on the findings, I asked Harvard Psychiatrist, Dr. Karthik Sivashanker, to look over the study, and if he would possibly recommend Korean pear juice to patients. “The authors of the study in Australia acknowledged that their results were preliminary and that a more comprehensive review was needed,” he wrote. “Even if this is clearly validated with further studies, I would not recommend any quick-fix, such as Korean pear juice, to any of my patients. At the end of the day, the only sure-fire way to avoid a strong hangover, not mention the personal and health consequences of excessive drinking, is to drink in moderation.” Wait, what? Not gonna happen.
And so the day on Fire Island began: Paddle ball drinking games on the beach; beer fisted whiffle ball on an all-grass baseball diamond; flip cup when it began to rain; more flip cup when the rain didn’t stop. As it generally happens, day rolled into night, and things began to escalate. We bounced around from bar to bar on the island, all the while I was displaying my wildly mediocre dance moves, until it became closing time, and we had to be kicked out.
When I woke up the next morning, to my great surprise, it didn’t feel as though a massive, prehistoric woodpecker had spent the night making a nook in my skull. Sure, I didn’t feel spectacular, and I couldn’t run a 5k on command, but that wouldn’t have been possible even if I hadn’t spent the prior day drinking with friends. But then there was Colin. Stumbling my way through beer cans, I found his room to see how my friend was doing. How are you doing? I asked him.
“Not good,” he said, “leave and close the door.”
Science 1. Colin 0.
