It’s official. I am allergic to Prosecco!
I know, it’s not a great position to be in. I’ve been in denial for over a year now; thinking that I can overcome this strange reaction to my favourite tipple. But now I am ready to acknowledge and admit – Prosecco and I do not a great cocktail make.
Last night I was pleased to be invited to a friend’s place for a relaxed family evening, meeting some new people in my local area and eating some great food.
Being the only English person, it seemed fitting that I take alcohol. Yes, people often still look at me with a strange face that says ‘Oh dear, she has a problem’, whenever I start drinking; but this group was mainly French so I was thinking that wouldn’t be too much of a problem (it wasn’t!).
So I went to the Coop, selected my favourite brand of Prosecco (as you all know, a cheaper alternative to my favourite friend of special occasions, Champagne) and headed over to the gathering with my Insalata Caprese (the only thing I can sort of make well).
Of course, I was eager with Prosecco drinking anticipation on my way over, the thought of the slightly sweet (though brut) bubbles tingling on my tongue gets my adrenalin going every time. Some might say this is a problem, many of my non-English friends look concerned when I talk with love about my favourite drinks. But to me, they’re just like food. Something to be enjoyed and savoured; like cake. Not agreeing well with gluten, I miss out on cake so I need my pleasure.
Five glasses in and I felt great! Good conversation, made easier by the heady delight of the bubbles playing with my consciousness; making my conversation flow more easily and me feel less awkward talking about…. well, anything really.
Then, back at home, I called the BigIam with love and energy. I had such a great day! Everything is great! Blah, blah, blah.
‘But I think I had too many Proseccos….’
‘Yes, I can tell.’
I went happily to bed. But then it came. Sneaking up (well more pouncing actually) in the middle of the night. It starts with a jolt. The head is banging, the sinuses are blocked, the nausea starts.
I get up, drink some water and take a painkiller. The pain is really too much to go back to sleep without one.
Not long after, I’m awake again. The itching has started. Yes, itching. How unfair is that?! I wake up scratching my neck, stomach and arms.
Up I get once again, to the cupboard for the anti-histamines. Yes, I have an ongoing supply for my strange allergies. Another painkiller; the head still feels like it is being hammered with a pneumatic drill. Then to the nasal spray; I can’t breathe through my nose.
You see my point. As I sit here writing this post, I feel a dull ache behind my eyes and at the top of my nose. My skin is hyper-sensitive and I feel like I can never drink Prosecco again. This happens every time I have more than one glass.
So I now admit it, I am allergic. My good friend was right last year on our skiing trip when she pointed out I always start scratching when I drink Prosecco, but always seem to want more.
Now I have admitted the problem, it’s time for recovery. T-total? No, a switch to Champagne, me thinks! 😉
Picture reference: wikipedia