Green Hell

And There Was Much Rejoicing...

     My new, mostest favoritest place in the whole, wide world: Cindy's Herbs, 5209 Buford Highway, Doraville.
     I was out grocery shopping today, when I spotted the sign from the highway and decided to have a look-see at their selection. As you may have gathered by now, I wasn't at all disappointed. Cindy's carries tieh ta wan/dit da yun, zheng gu shui, and damn-near everytihng else a martial artist possessed more of enthusiasm than of discretion could want or need.  

    While I'm on the subject, the herb shop in Great Wall (2300 Pleasant Hill Road, Duluth) ain't bad, either. 
     

Product Warning

     Last week, I picked up a bag of Dragon Brand licorice root -- and noticed that something was terribly wrong when I went to use it. First off, the color was wrong. But the real red flag came when I took a sip of the decoction I'd brewed. The flavor was nothing like licorice. It was overpoweringly acrid, and actually left a slight burning sensation in my throat when I swallowed the brew. 

     If you click on the photo below, you'll see the offending product on the left, with a bag of "the good stuff" on the right. The bark of the Dragon Brand is darker and redder than it should be, and the flesh is a little too yellowish. The odor isn't right, either. I'm not sure if somone at the factory slipped up and packaged the wrong herb, or if someone went gung-ho with the preservatives (sulfur dioxide, according to the label), thereby causing the acrid taste and odor. Unofortunately, there's no lot-number on the package, so I'd caution the reader just to avoid the stuff unti the company gets its doo-doo together. 
     The bag of Green Day Brand was only thirty cents more, and as you can see, the product looks (and tastes, although you can't see that, naturally) exactly as it should. 

Me Love You Longtime!

     As I had a ton of errands to run this morning, I got out of the house as early as possible, and hied me to one of the herb shops I frequent. Initially, I meant only to top off a few of the herbs I most often use -- ginseng, wolfberries, licorice root (more about this in my next post), and red dates. 
     Now being a lazy son of a bitch, I prefer to buy ginseng extract in pre-measured vials, instead of brewing it myself. (It's a pain the neck. The stuff has to be decocted in a pyrex or earthenware pan, it mustn't come into contact with iron, etc.) 
     Anyway, while I was looking for my favorite brand, I had a gander at the shelf above it -- and immediately burst out laughing. The product in question was deer's tail extract -- and one look at the box was enough for me. I had to buy it -- price no object. 
     Needless to say, I've "accidentally" left the box on the coffee table. It should be the first thing the wife sees when she comes home from work. I'm just dying to see how she reacts to it... 



Royal King Deer's Tail Extract. The box-top doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it? 

Good Stuff!

    As y'all know, I'm not in the habit of shilling products -- especially anything that purports to be a miracle cure for this or that ailment. Call me a die-hard cynic, but today's "miracle cure" is tomorrow's "silent killer." And if I *do* recommend a given product, it's because I've used it and had good results with it. Those products, as you may have gathered, are few and far between.

     There are a few exceptions to the general rule, though. Although the stuff is very hard to obtain (and, to the best of my knowledge, illegal in this country) xiong tan tieh ta wan (bear-gall injury pills) are truly amazing. Six years ago, I ended up with a broken rib  -- at my own wedding, no less. And of course, like a consummate dumbass, I'd left my "toy box" of oddball herbs at home. A friend of mine got wind of the injury, and quietly passed me a few doses of the aforementioned substance. While he was explaining how to use it, he noted that he was sorry he hadn't brought his needles. Had he been able to administer acupuncture, the injury probably would have healed even faster. (I'd love to have the guy write the occasional guest post on this blog, by the way. I am not personally acquainted with anyone who knows more about traditional Chinese medicine.) 
    I was only able to take two of the pills, as one of the TSA scumbags at Hartsfield stole the last dose from my suitcase, but the medicine was truly incredible. I've had more broken bones than I care to recall, and on the average, they take six weeks to heal. Thanks to the tieh ta wan, the rib mended in only three. Owing to the difficulty in obtaining it (and because I'm ethically opposed to consuming parts of endangered animals), I also use Kapok Brand Circuherb Tea Extract, and Yang Cheng Brand tieh ta wan, which is very similar, minus the bear gall. If you'd rather make larger batches, the formulas are here.

   The other product I recommend is Yunnan Bai Yao, which is available here, if you don't have a Chinese herablist in your area. The exact formula is a closely guarded secret, but the most prominent in the mix are Panax pseudoginseng, P. notoginseng, and dioscorea root. Although it tastes horrid, the results of taking it have to be seen to be believed.
     A few months ago, my dog, Conor either got his foot caught in something, or ran afoul of a snapping turtle. We'll probably never know. As a result of the mishap, he lost three of his toes. After rushing him to the animal emergency clinic, I contacted my buddy, who recommended giving him a dog-sized dose (about 1/4  of standard for a dog his size) once or twice a day until the wound healed. And heal it did. The vets were absolutely stunned at the speed with which he mended. Earlier this summer, my Ma sustained a deep, nasty cut whilst working in the yard. The wound became infected, and refused to heal properly. I administered the YBY externally and internally, as a result of which it began to heal visibly within twenty-four hours. I've used it myself for one injury, with equally stunning results.



     L: Yunnan Bai Yao. R: Kapok Brand tieh ta wan.

     The last item I'll post isn't for sale anywhere that I know of. It's a recipe, and you'll have to obtain the herbs and make it yourself. It's for the ladies, incidentally.This is an indelicate subject, but a few years ago, right around her fiftieth birthday, my wife began going through menopause -- and it wasn't a pleasant experience for the poor thing. Hot flashes, night-sweats, insomnia, dizziness -- the whole nine yards. I made her a batch of the following "potion," and it did the trick. I've also given the stuff to younger females who have to contend with PMS. 
 
     Take one quart of vodka or Chinese "fire wine," and steep 8g each of the following ingredients for six weeks to six months. 

     Angelica sinensis
     Rehmannia glutinosa
     Paeonia lactiflora
     Astragalus membraneceus
     Poria cocos
     Glycyrrhizia uralensis
     Codonopsis Tangshen
     Ligusticum wallichii 

     Take a one-ounce shot twice a day on an empty stomach until symptoms are relieved. In the case of PMS, begin taking it a week before -- well, you know. Daniel Reid's The Complete Book of Chinese Health and Healing mentions that it's also good for men who suffer from anemia. A word of caution, though: Maggie had to stop taking it after a couple of months, as she began having (in her words), her "monthly visitor" again. 

     I've seen this one premeasured and boxed up at various Asian markets, but I've noticed that the herbs aren't of the highest quality. If you have the choice, it's better to buy them individually from a reputable herbalist and measure them out yourself especially if you're new to the field. I learned my lesson the hard way some years ago, when I got screwed on a box of Cordyceps fungus. 

     Until next time...

Heavy Metal and Chinese Pecker Potions

     Earlier in the week, I took a trip to my favorite Asian market, in order to load up on the things that make life worth living: seaweed, shrimp paste, nuoc mam, fermented tofu, palm and rice vinegars, elephant’s trunk chiles (a hornworm made short work of mine), and, of course, ginseng. Unfortunately, the market was out of my usual brand. The unexpected development left me saddled with this stuff:

      I wasn’t happy about having to forego my product of choice, but I decided to make the best of the situation. Besides, I couldn’t help getting a kick out of the clumsy translation on the box-top. “Men’s Erotic Tonic,” fer feck’s sake? It sounds like the kind of snake oil various unscrupulous, fly-by-night companies used to advertise in the back pages of cheap porno mags during the late ‘80s and early ‘90s!
    
     When I arrived home, I explained what had transpired to my wife, and showed her the package. She had one look at the label, and without missing a beat, rolled her eyes and groaned “Oh, my God!”




     Before I continue, let me state for the record that if you’re searching for the secret of eternal youth, or even for aphrodisiacs, you’re reading the wrong blog. I understand that various modern, prescription drugs can enhance libido in males and females, as can hormone therapy. As, however, I’d prefer not to experience ten-hour hard-ons and/or acromegaly a few years down the road, I’ll stick to natural supplements, thankee kindly.  As for you would-be Ponce de Leons: How long do you really want to live on this fucking Irrenhaus of a planet?

      Anyway, I’ve had decent luck with the Royal King brand. The specific product I prefer consists of 8000mg of ginseng extract in a mix of water, honey, and alcohol – and nothing else. That, along with 5mg of boron a day, and regular doses of the wolfberry stew recipe I posted a few weeks ago is as exotic as I get.
     Reputable clinical studies on the effects of boron on muscle-building are inconclusive, by the way, so beware any claims you may read in bodybuilding rags or on snake-oil websites. It has been shown to increase testosterone production in rats, but it’s hardly the steroid substitute the fast-buck crowd would have you believe.  The combination seems to be working, though – sometimes a little too well. Although I haven’t had a severe depressive episode in months, I’ve noticed a slight increase in both the frequency and intensity of manic/hypomanic episodes, and mildly elevated aggression/excitability, as well. 
    Regarding other supplements: I tried creatine last year, but quickly kissed it off -- the gains in strength and endurance weren’t worth the constipation, water-retention, etc. In my opinion, the stuff is vastly overrated. I do take vitamin and mineral supplements to make up for deficiencies in the local soil, but they’re strictly over-the-counter – nothing I’d have to break the bank ordering from a catalog or buying from some larcenous specialty shop. I also take Five Hour Energy -- because I need the B-vitamins, but hate swallowing any more pills than I have to.
 
     I’d love nothing more than to find a fitness product that actually worked as advertised, but most of ‘em don’t.  And they’re all overpriced. Where’s the sense in squandering $2.50 on a protein bar (soy protein, no  less…), a bar which also contains 25% of the recommended daily allowance of fat, when I can obtain twice as much protein -- and far less fat --from a $0.79 can of tuna? If I wanted soy protein (and I don’t – Buddhist monks eat it as a celibacy-aid for a good reason: soy contains phytoestrogens) I could purchase a block of tofu for $0.99, thereby taking in 28g of protein, roughly 50% of the recommended daily allowance, and practically no fat.
     Sorry, guys. I can’t shill your products: there are cheaper and tastier ways of getting the nutrients I need.   

     This brings us back to the “pecker potion.” I wish they’d list the exact proportions of the ingredients, but I gather that like Yunnan Bai Yao (truly amazing stuff!), the exact formula is a closely guarded secret.
     Here’s the rollout, in addition to the ginseng. According to my well-worn copy of Materia Medica, the ingredients perform as follows:

     Indian mulberry (Morinda officinalis): Acts on the kidney meridian, tonifies kidney yang, supplements essence.
 
     Fleeceflower (Polygonum multiflorum): Acts on liver and kidney meridians, nourishes blood and yin, conserves essence.

     Wild Yam (Dioscorea opposita): Acts on the kidney, lung, and spleen meridians, tonifies qi and yin of all three, secures essence.
  
     Licorice (Glycerrhizia uralensis & related species): Acts on all twelve channels, tonifies spleen qi, moistens lungs, drains fire.

     Szechuan Lovage (Ligusticum chuanxiong): Acts on the liver, gallbladder, and pericardium meridians. Invigorates blood, promotes movement of qi.

     All of which makes perfect sense, if you’re into Chinese medicine. The simple combination of morinda and ginseng is a commonplace remedy for impotence. Fleeceflower, mulberry, wild yam, and licorice likewise affect the kidney meridian, which governs sexual functions. Ginseng is called the “King of Herbs” for a very good reason –it does damn-near everything. Licorice enters all twelve meridians, and boosts the effectiveness of the other ingredients. It’s also worth noting (and this is extremely “woo-woo”) that the ingredients neatly follow the “generative line” of the Taoist Five-Element theory, each organ-energy supplementing/supporting the next.

    I just bought it for the ginseng… I’m no more and no less of an oversexed horndog than usual, but I’m reasonably sure that if the “Celtic tiger” ever has trouble shaking his tail, this stuff’ll set him right in no time. I’ve had good luck with Chinese medicine so far…

    What else? Oh yeah!
    I spent the last two staggered, four-week cycles specializing on the chest. The workouts were as follows:

     Weeks 1, 3, 5, 7                                       Weeks 2, 4, 6, 8
     Squat (3 x10)                                            Squat (3 x 10)
     Inverted Row (3 sets to failure)                  Bent Row (3 x 10)
    *Bench Press (3 x 10)                                 *Bench Press (3 x 10)
    *Straight-arm Pullover (3 x 10)                   *Straight-Arm Pullover (3 x 10)
    *Incline Bench Press (3 x 10)                       *Incline Bench Press (3 x 10)
    *Dumbbell Fly (3 x 10 )                                *Dumbbell Fly (3 x 10)
     Military Press (3 x 10 )                                Press Behind Neck (3 x 10)
     Curl (3 x10)                                              Curl (3 x 10)
     Triceps Press (3 x 10)                               Dumbbell Kickback (strip-sets, to failure)

    Exercises marked with an asterisk are pairs of super-sets: one performed right after another, with no rest in between, followed by a two-minute rest per super-set.
     Oh, and the week’s playlist, of course.

“Unsung” – Helmet
“In Your Letter” – REO Speedwagon
“(With Your Life) You’ll Pay for This” -- Tank
“Reign of Thunder” – Tank
“Into Crypts of Rays” – Celtic Frost
“Killing Machine” – Judas Priest
“Take it on the Run” – REO Speedwagon
“Schism” – Tool
“(Don’t You) Forget About Me” – Simple Minds
“Seek and Destroy” – Metallica
“The Hunter” – Girlschool
“Blue Turk” – Alice Cooper
“Scarred for Life” – Rose Tattoo
"Fat Lip" - Sum 41
"EMI" - Sex Pistols
"Friggin' in the Riggin'" - Sex Pistols (This one's worth watching as well as listening to. The video is just so wrong, it's irresistible.)
"Kiss my Irish Ass" - Flogging Molly


     Gimme a fuckin' break, willl ya? Ya don't expect me to pump iron whilst listening to Kitaro or Steve Hillage, do ya? 

     G'night.

    Note:The post from the 20^th was the product of manic moment. I still think it was funny in a crude, juvenile, locker-roomish way, though: “Tell P.J. that T.J. gave D.J. a B.J – which D.J. did repay, posthaste, with a C.J.” Heh heh heh…. 

Two Remedies for Boo-Boos

     OK, so I lied a little about the jow recipe.

    “How dare you, Bean?” shrieks the Gentle Reader. “I just busted my knuckles on the makiwara, with the understanding that you’d post a remedy, you prevaricating Irish fuck!”

     Cool your jets, Daniel San. Miyagi fix you up real good. Before I post the jow recipe, I have to make sure it’s OK to do so. With the exceptions of formulae I dig up on my own, I never publish a recipe without the express consent of the guy who taught me to make it.

    The following is a common (but very effective) tieh ta wan/dit da yun recipe. I use it myself (I wouldn’t be posting the formula if I didn’t), and I can vouch for its efficacy. It’s for internal use, and hardcore martial arts buffs will note that the list of ingredients is very similar to jow, minus the toxic stuff (nux vomica, monkshood, etc.)

     1g ginseng root
     800mg Chinese angelica root
     800mg safflower
     800mg turmeric root
     600mg dragon’s blood
     600mg frankincense

     Grind all ingredients into powder, and mix with honey to form pills. Take twice per day (the recipe is good for one dose), until injury heals. Yes, it tastes like shit, and yes, it works – although not as well as the justly coveted bear gall formula. (That stuff, by the way, is incredible. Two doses, and I managed to heal a broken rib in *three weeks* -- half the time a fracture usually requires to mend; and I’m a smoker, even!)

     The next one isn’t bad either – although it tastes especially horrid. The ingredients, you’ll notice, are quite similar to those in xiong tan tieh ta wan, minus the inula, bear gall, and angelica. The following recipe makes 100g, to be divided into individual doses of 8-10g. When dissolved in vodka or other strong spirits, it can also be used exnternally, just like jow.

    28g panax pseudoginseng
     25g safflower
     15g turmeric root
     15g amomi fruit (a.k.a. "black cardamom")
     17g Chinese rhubarb root
     
     Grind all ingredients to powder, and combine with honey, to make pills. 

     Moving right along...

    I don’t usually plug strangers, but if you’re interested in the “real deal,” check out the website of a guy named James Lacy. Lacy runs a California-based outfit called Mew Hing, and he knows Chinese herbal medicine like nobody’s business. Although he’s not the type who’d betray his lineage by giving away any deep, dark secrets, he’s never published a bum formula, in my experience. His “Five Elder dit da jow” is a bit pricey (and time-consuming) to make (soak herbs in vodka, and play “hurry up and wait” for the next six months), but well worth the time and expense. Although I’ve never met the man in person, I can say (and I’m sure thousands of others would agree with me) that Lacy is the injury-prone martial artist’s best friend. On a more subjective note, I’ll mention that as a (frequently backsliding, by my own admission) Christian, I’m doubly impressed by his willingness to share so much of his knowledge with the public, free of charge. In my book, that bespeaks an uncommon degree of genuine benevolence/humanitarianism -- a rare commodity in this graceless, “Me first!” age of ours.

    I'd like to plug my friend, Bruce (for a roundeye, he knows more about Chinese medicine, acupuncture, etc. than anyone else I've ever met), but he's a private, retiring kind of guy. Maybe someday I'll convince him to let me throw some business his way...  

     Take care, y'all. 

A Medicine for Melancholy (?): Wolfberry Stew

     This recipe is an adaptation of a dish from Daniel Reid’s Chinese Health and Healing (ISBN 0-7607-0771-5).  It’s quite similar to a number of Asian tonic soups, and I’ve stumbled across many such recipes in the past. Reid’s in my opinion, is the tastiest. The only problem I have with his version is the quantity – I’m the only one in the house who really enjoys it, so the leftovers often go to waste.

     According to Reid (and Materia Medica), wolfberries are a kidney and liver tonic, enhance hormone production and boudoir prowess, improve vision, and increase physical endurance. Whether or not it’s the placebo effect, I can vouch for all of them except the part about improved vision. Shiitake mushrooms are believed to contribute to longevity, and have been proven to enhance immune-function and to arrest the growth of certain cancers. (At times, I wish I could have persuaded my late father to eat more of them….)

     Although Reid never makes the claim, I’ve noticed that eating the stew regularly alleviates the nastier symptoms of depression, a condition to which genetics have left me unusually prone.

    1lb beef, cubed
    1 dozen dried shiitake mushrooms, reconstituted in one cup boiling water
    ½oz wolfberries (available at all Chinese pharmacies and most Oriental grocery stores)
    ½ cup rice wine (Shao Hsing tastes better, but Japanese sake works just as well, and is more readily available. Steer clear of Korean chunyeon yaksog, as the suspended yeast is visually unappealing.)

     Brown beef in 2-3T oil in skillet or wok. Remove and drain on paper towels.
    Cut mushrooms into strips, reserving ½ cup soaking water (unless mushrooms contain sulfites).
    Add beef, berries, and mushrooms to pot. Cover with wine, ½ cup mushroom liquid, and 1-1/4 cups water. Heat to boiling, cover, reduce heat to lowest setting, and simmer 2 hours.
     Serve hot, seasoned with sea salt, pepper, and sesame oil to taste.




      

The Further Adventures of Young Doctor Kildare

    Like women, we Celts are more renowned for physical attractiveness and high-spiritedness than for abstract intelligence. As the photo below illustrates, I became a wee bit overenthusiastic whilst hand-conditioning. Things went smoothly until I began working the backfist (uraken), at which point the demon of overzealousness reared its ugly head. 

     Part of the problems was Yours Truly (hitting too damned hard), and part was the equipment: the bag is just too damned old. The contents have settled, and it's time to refill it. Essentially, I wound up hitting a cinderblock covered by a mere two layers of canvas with the knuckles, while the back of the hand smacked the bunched-up contents of the bag. 



     I didn't notice anything amiss until two hours later. I'd gone upstairs, slapped a disc of Schubert into the ghetto blaster, and was  reading a book on Graeco-Roman art shortly after my workout. Predictably, I fell asleep. When I awoke, I noticed a fairly nasty bruise forming on the back of my hand. 

     Here comes the surprise. The bruise you see is less than 24 hours old. Note that it's in a rather advanced state of healing. This is because of a true marvel of modern medical science: raw ginger root. I cut two thick slices from a fresh, juicy root, lightly crushed them, and gently massaged the juice into the boo-boo. 

    The ginger works miracles by itself, but is even more effective when used in combination with dit da jow (for which I'll post a recipe in due time). Assuming that you don't have a traditional Chinese pharmacy in your neck of the woods, you can enhance the effectiveniss of the remedy by putting the root in a mortar, along with a little fresh turmeric root (available at all Oriental groceries and most farmers' markets) and black pepper, grinding them, and making a poultice of the resultant paste. The combination of ginger and turmeric is even more effective than ginger alone, but I wouldn't recommend it to battered wives: the turmeric, while healing the bruise, leaves vivid, yellow stains on the skin. 

Although this should go without saying, do not apply and of the aforementioned preparations diectly to broken skin -- unless you mean to practice your kiai as well. 

UK Cans Alternative Medicine

Disturbing piece in the Independent here.

The article pertains to the UK, but the passage of S.510 guarantees the same -- or worse -- on this side of the pond.  Like socialized medicine itself, the suppression of alternative therapies has nothing to do promoting health, and everything to do with establishing complete control over the populace. It could even be seen as a "plausibly deniable" form of population control: by monopolizing medical care and leaving those deemed "unfit" without alternatives, the government can effectively cull the "surplus population."

Even those disinclined to accept this power-grab as a prelude to out-and-out eugenics would be hard put to deny the monopolistic intent. After all, this country has witnessed both in the past.  As Anthony Cavender wrote in Folk Medicine in Southern Appalachia: "It must be noted that the increasingly powerful medical establishment was, as today, a as much interested in increasing its hegemony over the health care sector and protecting its proprietary interests as it was in protecting the public from the menace of alternative medicine."  

Hundreds of herbal medicinal products will be banned from sale in Britain next year under what campaigners say is a "discriminatory and disproportionate" European law.

With four months to go before the EU-wide ban is implemented, thousands of patients face the loss of herbal remedies that have been used in the UK for decades.

Try centuries. Long before the allopathic and biomedical approaches came into favor, people treated various ailments (in some cases, quite effectively) with plants, the effects of which were empirically observable.   

From 1 May 2011, traditional herbal medicinal products must be licensed or prescribed by a registered herbal practitioner to comply with an EU directive passed in 2004. The directive was introduced in response to rising concern over adverse effects caused by herbal medicines.

"Rising concern" on whose part? As in the US, where the FDA routinely authorizes drugs with harmful and even lethal side effects -- while banning herbal remedies over a handful of deaths -- the "concerned" parties seem to be the usual suspects: medical professionals and the pharmaceutical industry. Aside from the fact that regulatory bodies have a wretched track record insofar as determining the relative "safety" of any given medicine (see here, here, here, here, and here) is concerned, the complainants' failure to identify themselves is suspicious, to say the least. (Although this piece provides a clue or two...)

The UK Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency (MHRA) has issued more than a dozen safety alerts in the past two years, including one over aristolochia, a banned toxic plant derivative which caused kidney failure in two women.

Wow! A whopping two deaths! It's an epidemic! An epidemic, I tell you!

Herbal practitioners say it is impossible for most herbal medicines to meet the licensing requirements for safety and quality, which are intended to be similar to those for pharmaceutical drugs, because of the cost of testing.

Aha! Now we're getting somewhere. Am I the only one who smells the ass-scratching finger of Big Pharma?

The ANH estimates the cost of obtaining a licence at between £80,000 and £120,000 per herb. They say this is affordable for single herbal products with big markets, such as echinacea, a remedy for colds and flu, but will drive small producers of medicines containing multiple herbs out of business.

This, I believe, is another of the EU's primary goal -- along with along with eugenics and establishing complete control over every aspect of every European's life.

This means thousands of patients who rely on herbal treatments face being denied access to them. Medical organisations, including the MHRA, have warned the measures may drive patients to obtain herbal medicines over the internet – where risks are much greater.

Note that in either case, thousands of patients' life expectancies are dramatically reduced.

Michael McIntyre, the chairman of the European Herbal and Traditional Medicine Practitioners Association, said: "The problem is you can't get a licence for many herbal medicines because they are grown in people's back gardens and you can't patent them. The implications are very serious.

Damned straight, Mikey. Given the company's established pattern of behavior, you can be certain that Monsanto is waiting in the wings, intent on producing and patenting GMO "Franken-herbs." At that point, even folk medicines are legalized, Monsanto will have a monopoly on their cultivation and use. Consider the company's position (viz. the Supreme Court of Canada's decision against Percy Schmeiser): that it "owns" any crop cross-pollinated by its genetically modified trash. In a just world, Schmeiser would be suing Monsanto for contaminating his crops.

Moving right along, McIntyre shoots himself in the foot by playing into his enemies' hands:

"Patients want to receive treatment from trained and qualified practitioners but unless we have regulation they can't have confidence in who is treating them. The worst outcome is that patients will end up going to the internet for their herbal medicines where there are no controls."

I don't doubt Mr. McIntyre's good intentions -- but he seems a tad uninformed. If current trends are indicative of the future, cyberspace is about to be regulated rather heavily. Beyond consenting to subject his own profession to the arbitrary rulings of unelected (and potentially hostile bureaucrats), he's inviting the same authoritarian vermin to police the internet, as well.

The MHRA said it had received applications for licences for 166 herbal products, of which 78 had been granted. Sir Alasdair Breckenridge, chairman of the MHRA, said a register of herbalists was essential. "Just because something is natural doesn't mean it is safe," he said. "It is terribly important to have responsible people who have undergone training prescribing these products."

This paragraph speaks volumes. Click here for more on the esteemed Dr. Mengel -- uhm, I mean Breckenridge. Not exactly a disinterested party, now is he?

Edzard Ernst, professor of complementary medicine at the University of Exeter, said proposals for regulation would be worthless unless they required practitioners to follow best evidence for the effects of their remedies. "It is in danger of regulating nonsense – and that must result in nonsense," he said.

And what, pray tell, is the "best evidence"? Apparently, it's escaped Herr Doktor Ernst; but failure to define one's terms is among the most infuriating forms of nonsense. Would a chemical analysis of any given herbal remedy constitute -- if not the "best," then credible evidence, at least? Does empirical observation count? Apparently not.

A spokesman for the Department of Health said no decision had been made on a statutory register of herbal practitioners. "The Government is aware of the strength of feeling on this issue and is actively exploring options."

Which is to say that the public is S.O.L.  Note that our anonymous spokesman assures us that the government is aware of the strength of public sentiment on the matter. Note that he avoids mentioning or even investigating the source of that strong sentiment. Is it possible that some of us (British and American alike) prefer natural medicines because they treat the causes -- rather than the symptoms -- of various ailments: in other words, because they're effective? No answer. Might some of us prefer them because they spare us the debilitating side-effects of government-approved, prescription poisons? No answer. And what, pray tell, are the options the BritGov alleges to be exploring? No answer.

Although it's small consolation, Americans will know exactly what to expect by way of government response to public sentiment when the war on alternative medicine spreads to the U.S.S.A. The TSA has already shown us...

As Promised...

...Here's your link to the photos.

Cooking With "Weird Shit": Karelas

I don't imagine I'll ever make a poet of my wife -- she's simply too blunt-spoken.

My mother's arthritis has been unusually severe, so Mags and I made an emergency trip out to Doraville yesterday, to purchase hawthorn berries, longan, jujubes and rice wine. It was our second trip to Buford Highway in three days, and although I hate burning that much gas in a single week, there was no way around it: Ma was in pain.

Acupressure has relieved her symptoms appreciably (she was able to get back to sleep last night after hitting the points I showed her), but I thought something stronger was in order. In the last year, I've developed considerable respect and admiration for Henry C. Lu's work (his book, Chinese Natural Cures is one of the best I've read), so I decided to try yet another oddball Chinese remedy, hawthorn wine.

On the way to Doraville, the wife mentioned a few ailments of her own. We've finally knocked out the hot flashes, dizzy spells, etc., and are making progress against the insomnia, but there's still quite a bit of work to do. Unfortunately, treating Maggie is like trying to shove a wet noodle up a cat's ass -- it's damn near impossible, even on a good day. Most of her complaints are easily treatable, but she's like a child when it comes to taking medicines, whether traditional or modern.

"Honey, " I said, mildly exasperated, "every time I whip up a batch of whatever, you tell me it tastes 'gross.' "

"Well, you just like making me eat gross stuff."

"That's bullshit and you know it, dear. Besides, I never know what you're gonna consider 'gross,' and I think most of it's in your mind, anyway. Remember when I cooked that soup with the white fungus?"

She made a face, to which I replied "Ah, but the taste and texture aren't that different from black fungus ('wood ears,' 'tree ears,' or 'cloud ears'), and you ate that."

"I did not!"

"You certainly did. Every time I make hot-and-sour soup, you're eating wood ears."

"Oh. Well, they're cut up small. I can't tell what they are."

I could see that the coversation was going nowhere, so I concentrated on surviving the trip down GA-400 and I-285. After a near collision with an idiot on a cellphone (let me get this straight: It's cloudy, rainy, the pavement is wet, the traffic on 285 is usually bumper-to-bumper -- but moving at eighty miles an hour, nonetheless -- and you're gonna distract yourself by yakking on a cell-phone? There's a well-deserved "Darwin Award" in your future, asshole....) we finally reached the market. By that time, I needed the hawthorn berries for my own blood pressure... Locating the items we needed was no problem, so we were soon on our way home.

Now two days ago, I'd picked up a few things at the same market for dinner (spring rolls and a stir-fry with veggies and leftover turkey). Occasionally, I fix a "just for me" treat, but only because my wife and mother don't share my tastes. Toward this end, I also bought a package of hog trotters (they're absolutely wonderful when caramelized with sugar, garlic, soy sauce, nuoc mam, etc.), and a few other "comfort foods."

We'd just reached the car, and were loading our overflowing bags of animal parts (nearly all of which Mags considers 'gross'), herbs, spices, veggies and fruits (including carambolas, pomegranates and a fair-sized pomelo) into the trunk, when she observed (for the millionth time): "Honey, you eat some weird shit."

For the record, I take exception to the term "weird" -- and to "shit," as well. I don't think my diet's "weird" at all -- it's just eclectic. (This reminds me of my favorite T-shirt, by the way. It reads: "In some cultures, my behavior would be considered normal.") I enjoy a broad variety of foods. And if my better half doesn't? Well, she's the one missing out on the fun, not me.

By Western standards, my diet is, admittedly, unusual. In most of the world, though, my eating habits wouldn't even raise an eyebrow. I love sushi and sashimi, nearly all kinds of kimchi, various seaweeds (wakame being my favorite), jellyfish, cephalopods, all shellfish, most organ meats, and quite a few "weird" vegetables -- among them yamaimo, sato imo, rau mong, gai lon, luffas and bitter gourds. I draw the line at sago worms, fish eyes, and terrestrial snails (I'll eat marine snails), but those are the only things that really put me off. When it comes to vegetables, I'll eat nearly anything, and I'm especially fond of Oriental vegetables.

Thanks to companies like Pinetree Garden Seeds and Seeds of Change, (not to mention a few friends), I can grow many of them in my garden. (I've grown daikon, bok choy, napa, luffas, yard-long beans, shungiku, mizuna, etc. for years), but occasionally, I have to purchase them. When I do have to resort to purchasing (not having a greenhouse yet, I'm still at the mercy of the seasons), I usually go to the Buford Highway Farmers' Market or the Atlanta Farmers' Market (a.k.a. the Hong Kong Supermarket), where I can find anything I want at incredibly low prices.

(This brings me to another of my pet peeves. Ten years ago, my friend, Spence, and I were the only White guys who shopped there -- and I liked it that way. Nowadays, though, the BHFM is thronging with obnoxious, bargain-hunting yuppies.

I'm glad the place is doing a brisk trade -- they've earned it: the selection of merchandise just keeps getting better and better -- but really! When I head into Koreatown or Little Saigon, the last thing I want to see is some fat, wheezing slob of a caucasoid; jabbering away on his cell-phone and bumping into other shoppers, displays, etc. because of his utter lack of zanshin. End rant.)

This week, bitter gourds were a mere $1.59 a pound (not bad, as they're out of season), so I picked up one and took it home. Yesterday, I bought two more and decided to write about them.

To give credit where it's due, I began writing these "weird shit" pieces because of my wife's daughter. I'll readily admit that Elizabeth and I don't get along very well, but during one conversation a year or two ago, she made an excellent point.

We were having dinner at an overpriced eatery in North Carolina, when Mags brought up the cookbook, the first draft of which I've just completed. Elizabeth complained (and rightly so) that many cookbooks list odd ingredients, but fail to describe them, reccomend substitutes, or tell the reader where to obtain them. It was a valid grievance, and one I decided to address by composing these articles.

Without further ado, then:

The bitter gourd (a.k.a. "bitter melon," "wild cucumber," "balsam pear" or "karela"; ku gua in Cantonese, kho qua in Vietnamese) is a highly esteemed food in Southeast Asia. Although native to India, the plant's cultivation gradually spread into Indochina, and finally into China-proper.

A member of the vast Cucubitaceae family (which also includes squash, pumpkins, gourds, melons, chayotes and cucumbers), its botanical name is Momordica charantia. (Note: While related to M. grosvenori -- a.k.a. lo han guo or "Arhat fruit" -- the bitter gourd looks and tastes nothing like it, and is put to very different use.)

And in case the Gentle Reader hadn't guessed, it's aptly named. M. charantia, in its unprepared state, is actually too bitter to eat. Its enticing, cucumber-like appearance notwithstanding (the damned things just look delicious), the raw, un-prepared fruit tastes like quinine -- because it's loaded with the stuff. I suppose this explains its populartity in the malaria-plagued tropics.

To the best of my knowledge, there are two distinct cultivars: the smaller, heavily warted, dark green variety eaten in India, and the larger, smoother, pale green type grown in Southeast Asia (photos forthcoming). In my experience, the smaller, darker Indian variety is far more bitter than its Indochinese relative. Whichever variety one chooses, both need preparation.

In his Encyclopedia of Indian Cooking, Khalid Aziz recommends cutting an inch off the end of the fruit and rubbing the two cut sections together. He mentions that this will generate a sort of foam, thereby extracting much of the bitterness. I tried his method on the lighter, Southeast Asian variety, and found that it didn't work -- there was no foam at all. (The smaller, Indian gourds produced foam aplenty.)

I therefore decided to prepare them in the Vietnamese/Chinese manner. After topping and tailing them, I split them lengthwise, scraped out the seeds and pulp, and then cut them into thin, half-moon slices. I sprinkled a little sea salt into a flat-bottomed glass bowl, put in a layer of gourd slices, salted the tops, and repeated the process. I let the slices stand for half an hour, rinsed the excess salt away, and squeezed out the water. The fruit was still bitter, but tolerably so.

I stir-fried it with sliced lotus root and carrots, and a cup or so of cubed, leftover turkey breast. For a sauce, I used a mixture of cornstarch, water, chicken broth, soy sauce, nuoc mam, sugar, garlic, onion, ginger, lemongrass, Thai chiles, cilantro roots, shrimp paste and kaffir lime leaves. The bitterness was still noticeable, but the other flavors balanced it out very nicely. There were no leftovers...

Moving away from the culinary and into the medicinal, bitter gourd isn't listed in Materia Medica. Lu, however, mentions that it's bitter (an understatement), cooling, and affects the heart, spleen and stomach meridians. (He also awards it a whopping "yin" score of -8). Like most bitter foods, whether in Eastern or Western folk-medicine, it's believed to benefit the liver. Lu also mentions that regular consumption improves eyesight, and that the dry-fried seeds, ground to powder and taken with wine, can cure impotence.

(I've never suffered "dangler-droop," but if television commercials are anything to go by, millions of men do. If one can cure it by eating gourd seeds for a few days, why piss away one's hard-earned shekels on Viagra, Enzyte and all the other "pecker pills" on the market?)

I'll post photos of the fruit (both varieties) as soon as my battery recharges, so stay tuned.

Now that you know what it is and what it does, I'll tackle the matter of where to find bitter gourds. One of my bros' father-in-law managed to grow them from seeds he picked from a store-bought specimen, but I'd imagine he's the exception to the rule. Most catalogs don't offer the seeds, but someone must be producing them domestically -- they're too delicate to travel well. The most reliable way of finding them is checking the produce section of an Asian market, preferably Indian, Thai or Vietnamese.

For "Garden Geeks" Only

I've posted a few photos of our "exotic" crops; including luffas, garden huckleberries, kiwi fruit and edible flowers. I've also included pictures of the yellow dock plant, which we intend to try as a remedy for psoriasis.

It's all in the"Green Hell '09" gallery.