The plinth of righteousness

Serious sporting commitments will prevent me from drinking myself over to the wrong side of iniquity this weekend. Although I’m sure my major organs are going to benefit from a certain level of abstemiousness, it’s kind of a shame because I just made a bumper batch of gazpacho to see us through the weekend. Cold homemade gazpacho is one of the best hangover cures I know. Loads of vitamin C, thanks to the tomatoes, loads of salt, thanks to my heavy hand, bread pre-masticated by the blender, olive oil for the gods, raw garlic and onions to ward off the demons, cucumber for bright eyes, vinegar just in case.
As a bonus, it’s also good with vodka (not pictured) and probably gin if things get really dire. I, however, will be endeavouring to drink my way to virtue rather than consciousness via this jug of gazpacho.

And then there’s the bowl of cured sardines in the fridge – white wine vinegar, garlic, pepper, bay and thick sardine fillets, slippery at the skin, still bone-crunchy in the flesh – it seems wasteful to eat them purely for sustenance, such are their restorative powers. I don't believe in echinacaea or St John's Wort (scandal) but I will stand or fall on the medicinal qualities of fresh gazpacho and home-cured sardines.