Jan 1, 2003
In Praise of Smash
You have got the wrong end of the stick entirely if you think for a moment that Smash is supposed to act like a foodstuff.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. That’s like trying to pass off Alka-seltzer as a refreshing soft drink – it’s just not. Smash is dehydrated mashed potato, and it is, in a word, magnificient. Another possible word would be bland, but let’s gloss over that for the moment.
Smash is, however, a genius hangover concept.
In my final year of uni at Liverpoool, my flatmate Charlotte and I figured out that it was clinically the only way to recover from a tequila hangover.
We spent a lot of time hanging out in a tequila bar for various reasons that year – work, friends, stress – and we had rather too many opportunities to experiment with alleviating the particular circle of hell that is created in the aftermath of a lot of tequila. We tried all sorts of things – tea, alka-seltzer, plain bread, fry-ups, all to no avail.
Eventually, however, we found the perfect remedy.
Whoever is least hungover (and that needs to be a voluntary state) – or at least most able to stand without projectile vomiting – should prepare for the other a big glass of weak Ribena light (and we’re talking vaguely violet water here) made with normal-temperature water (not cold) and a Smash sandwich – that’s slightly moist Smash on white bread, with no butter whatsoever (that’s why the Smash has to be a bit runny) and a small dob of ketchup on the side (in case, miraculously, you feel like you can handle some taste towards the last couple of bites. Usually goes untouched, though).
The Smash sandwich: completely bland, completely inoffensive, yet pads out the stomach quite well, and requires no effort for the body to break down. Even vaguely manages to wave some carbohydrates (well, stodge) near your poor abused stomach lining.
I won’t hear a word said against it.
