Every family and every culture has its set of home remedies for common malaises. I'm sure you've lived through a few of them, or you can probably rattle off a few of them that you swear work. It's just one of those things that people do. It's sort of like a combination between a tradition and a life hack; people gravitate to the ones that work for them.
For example, when I was younger, we would sometimes have flat soda when we had a cold or flu symptoms. I don't quite know what the rationale was, but I do remember that as a child, I was happy when that particular home remedy made an appearance. If I had to try to reverse engineer why it became a thing over time, it probably had something to do with the sugar in the soda. They're empty carbs, but when your body is feeling down, it might actually do you some good to get a quick burst of energy.
The interesting bit, to me, is that every family and every culture has its own set of home remedies. When it comes to fixing the common cold, I've heard of people wrapping towels drenched in butter around someone's neck, slicing an onion and leaving it on someone's bedside, Vaporub on someone's chest, Vaporub on someone's feet with socks over it, and regular (i.e., carbonated) soda. Like I said, there's all sorts of traditions.
All of that is for the common cold, but there are home remedies for other ailments, too. For an upset stomach, the Mild Wife introduced me to Korean plum tea. It's usually sold in a concentrated syrup form, sort of like a jar of honey, so I've always just mixed it with water in order to make some.
Though I'd never had any growing up, it quickly won me over. I forget what my ailment was the first time I had it, but it calmed things right down. In fact, it did such a good job that I quickly became a believer in the said plum tea. Whenever my stomach isn't feeling right, I usually reach for the plum tea.
I mention this because I know of the stuff, but since I don't have a history with it, the actual Korean name (maesil-cha) for this plum tea frequently escapes me. I always just call it "Korean plum tea." I had to look it up just now in order to come up with the parenthetical in that last sentence. So, when someone at work said his stomach wasn't feeling well, the ensuing conversation went like this:
Me: "Oh, you should try Korean plum tea."
Coworker: "What's that?"
Me: "It's just like a syrup, but I will swear by it. It's always done the trick for me."
Coworker: "Oh, thanks. Where can I get it?"
Me: "Oh, uh, we buy it at this Korean supermarket nearby."
Coworker: "What's it called? Like what should I look for?"
Me: "Uh ... I'm honestly not sure ..."
There was a lot of laughter that followed that last part. It was doubly funny because I was trying to be useful, but I had no idea what the remedy I was recommending was called (though in my defense, the only thing on the side of the jar that I can actually read says "plum tea"). All in all, it wasn't all that useful to the guy.
I made up for it by bringing a small container's worth in the next day, but the whole exchange cracked me up. I think from now on, I'm going to try to learn the names of the things that I ingest. It might save me a little bit of laughter at my expense.
For example, when I was younger, we would sometimes have flat soda when we had a cold or flu symptoms. I don't quite know what the rationale was, but I do remember that as a child, I was happy when that particular home remedy made an appearance. If I had to try to reverse engineer why it became a thing over time, it probably had something to do with the sugar in the soda. They're empty carbs, but when your body is feeling down, it might actually do you some good to get a quick burst of energy.
The interesting bit, to me, is that every family and every culture has its own set of home remedies. When it comes to fixing the common cold, I've heard of people wrapping towels drenched in butter around someone's neck, slicing an onion and leaving it on someone's bedside, Vaporub on someone's chest, Vaporub on someone's feet with socks over it, and regular (i.e., carbonated) soda. Like I said, there's all sorts of traditions.
All of that is for the common cold, but there are home remedies for other ailments, too. For an upset stomach, the Mild Wife introduced me to Korean plum tea. It's usually sold in a concentrated syrup form, sort of like a jar of honey, so I've always just mixed it with water in order to make some.
This stuff |
Though I'd never had any growing up, it quickly won me over. I forget what my ailment was the first time I had it, but it calmed things right down. In fact, it did such a good job that I quickly became a believer in the said plum tea. Whenever my stomach isn't feeling right, I usually reach for the plum tea.
I mention this because I know of the stuff, but since I don't have a history with it, the actual Korean name (maesil-cha) for this plum tea frequently escapes me. I always just call it "Korean plum tea." I had to look it up just now in order to come up with the parenthetical in that last sentence. So, when someone at work said his stomach wasn't feeling well, the ensuing conversation went like this:
Me: "Oh, you should try Korean plum tea."
Coworker: "What's that?"
Me: "It's just like a syrup, but I will swear by it. It's always done the trick for me."
Coworker: "Oh, thanks. Where can I get it?"
Me: "Oh, uh, we buy it at this Korean supermarket nearby."
Coworker: "What's it called? Like what should I look for?"
Me: "Uh ... I'm honestly not sure ..."
There was a lot of laughter that followed that last part. It was doubly funny because I was trying to be useful, but I had no idea what the remedy I was recommending was called (though in my defense, the only thing on the side of the jar that I can actually read says "plum tea"). All in all, it wasn't all that useful to the guy.
I made up for it by bringing a small container's worth in the next day, but the whole exchange cracked me up. I think from now on, I'm going to try to learn the names of the things that I ingest. It might save me a little bit of laughter at my expense.
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