• Anthony Bourdain's ultimate hangover cure is Advil, a cold Coca-Cola, a joint, and spicy Sichuan food.
• I tried everything, minus the joint, and definitely felt better.
I woke up with the worst headache after a night of drinking way too much Champagne. It's true what they say — it goes straight to your head. It's the next morning and I need to get up. I have so much to do, but this hangover is too real. I've been wanting to try a different hangover cure than my own — which is take Advil with five pickles and water. I know Anthony Bourdain swears by his hangover cure. So I decided to try it.
I've heard of some strange hangover cures — such as ramen, egg white sandwich, burnt toast — but those don't sound appealing to me the morning after. Science has found that there is no end-all, be-all hangover cure. We each have our own ways of battling through the pain.
Anthony Bourdain's ultimate hangover cure is Advil, cold Coca-Cola, smoke a joint, and eat spicy Sichuan food. How greasy and grungy. Let's do it.
I roll out of bed, put on the hater blockers, and walk outside. First stop — Sichuan food. There's a sketchy place right around the corner from my apartment that I've never been too. I guess today's the day to try something new. Bourdain didn't give me any guidance on specific Sichuan food he orders. So I'll have to check out the menu and see what stands out.
It's about 11 am and I walk into the empty Chinese/Szechwan place. I get strange looks from the man behind the counter. I give him a strange look back. Who would eat this food before noon? A hungover, blonde chick who's just trying to cure a hangover. That's who.
I walk up to the counter and look up at the menu on the wall. It's all pictures. That's helpful because I can't currently read in my state. I just kind of stare at the wall for a few minutes and zone out, while the man behind the counter gets impatient and asks what I want. Dude, chill.
Everything looks greasy, which I'm sort of okay with. I suddenly have a craving for something salty. There's a lot of meat on the menu, so I ordered chicken stir fry with roasted chilis and peanuts. Sounds spicy.
I order the meal, plus a Coca-Cola to-go, then head back to my apartment. I take two Advil, wash it down with the soda, and dig in to the stir fry. Ouch. It's way too hot to eat. I thought about smoking a joint, but I don't have any weed on me and I'm not willing to go out and get some. So we're skipping that part. It's for the best.
Back to digging into my Sichuan food. It's actually exactly what I need. I began to crave it the more I ate it. It's so greasy, so salty, so filled with carbs — everything is hitting the spot. My eyes start to water as the spiciness hits me. Whoa, just bit into a chili pepper. That will wake up my senses.
I chug some Coke, scarf down the rest of the chicken stir fry, and lay down on my couch. I need to breath for a second. That spicy garlic chili sauce is really going to do wonders for my breath. Ugh. I feel so gross, yet so good.
Why is Anthony Bourdain always right? He seems to know everything. It kind of pisses me off but I also respect him for it. He literally is my culinary spirit animal.
I sit up on my couch and process how I feel. I decide that I can't move and that whatever I had to do that day will be pushed back an hour. My hangover is just wearing off and now I'm entering a food coma. I turn on "Parts Unknown" and fall asleep watching Anthony Bourdain stumble around London.