Well I suppose it was going to happen eventually. I’m definitely not the most sanitary person when it comes to food. I scrape mould off food instead of chucking it out and I also eat food I find in bins. So I was surprised when the food poisoning culprit came fresh from an actual shop!
The butcher down the road sells Prietas (Chilean blood sausage) locally sourced from a small-scale producer. Because it’s traditional Chilean food, I decided to give it a try. Now, blood sausage is not for the weak of stomach. As the name suggests, it has blood in it… So logically we decided to eat it with something else equally rough on the digestive tract – Puré Picante (spicy mash potato). A recipe for disaster (see what I did there?).
When I was in high school, one of my mates told me he liked to vomit apple juice, because it tastes the same on the way up as it does on the way down. The same principle does not apply to blood sausage and spicy mash. My throat and face hurt so much I thought my nose was going to fall off. Luckily, I only vomited continuously for 7 hours, so I didn’t have to go to hospital due to dehydration….
Now there’s stacks of info on the web about what to eat and drink when you are recovering from food poisoning. Obviously don’t hop back on the spicy food bandwagon straight away, avoid foods that are complex to digest like fibrous vegetables, and avoid acidic beverages such as coffee. Any of you who know me know I love all of those things so I’m sure you can imagine that I got pretty bored with soggy white rice and chamomile tea rather quickly.
Probably too quickly. 3 days later, having barely eaten anything since I’d been sick, I thought it’d be a great idea to devour a humongous bowl of Chilean-style chickpeas for lunch, which completely knocked me out (literally though, I passed out and slept for 3 hours. Longest ever siesta?) and I couldn’t eat again until the following day.
Of course I didn’t learn my lesson and proceeded to eat a sandwich containing mayo and avocado, not the lightest ingredients out there. Needless to say I felt like I had a giant rock in my stomach and once again I was out for the count. My boss called me a masochist. He’s probably right.
So just over a week later I’m back on the coffee, but still steering clear of the merquén (sad face). I guess things could have been a lot worse. The same guy who told me about the apple juice was once hospitalised with food poisoning which he contracted when he and his mate had a competition to see who could eat the most Chicken McNuggets. He should have sued, I reckon.