My girlfriend Johanna is a splash Irish, so I wanted to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day by cooking her a healthy dinner of Irish cuisine. I found recipes online for beer-battered tilapia and a cabbage/potato side dish called Colcannon. Add to that an ordinary salad with organic produce, and maybe a beer or two, and you’ve got yourself a great meal.
So after swinging by the grocery store, I headed over to her place and immediately set out to preparing ingredients. See, that’s the key -- you’ve got to prepare all the ingredients first, lay them out, and then cook them so all dishes will be ready at roughly the same time. Well, when I’m cooking, I’m working fast. I’m focused. Don’t try to talk to me -- that will just break my flow and delay dinnertime.
So there I am. I’m chopping up vegetables like a madman, about to make record pace. Potatoes, scrubbed and sliced, check. On to the batter -- whole wheat flower, be sure to measure exactly, check. Spices, check. Quarter teaspoon salt, just eyeball it on a spoon....
Wait a minute. This doesn’t look like salt. I taste a bit. Doesn’t taste like anything. I lick my finger and dip it in to taste. Still nothing.
"Baby, what is this? It doesn’t taste like salt."
She sees where I got it from. "Um, no, it’s not salt."
"Well, it’s not deadly poison, is it?"
She pauses. "Ummm.... Well..."
Her delay made me worry. Instantly, I thought the powder might be in your saliva, so don’t swallow. Funny thing is, exactly at the moment I thought the word "swallow", I did, through some sort of cruel reflex reaction. I spit into the sink and rinsed my mouth just in case.
I try to remain calm. "Hey, baby? You remember when you asked me if I loved you, but you got upset because it took too long for me to respond? I understand that. But I want you to know that I just asked you if I consumed deadly poison, and I expect a very quick response. Either I’m looking for very swift and complete reassurance, or, and this is key, very quick and decisive panic."
It turns out that I had digested a very small pinch of Borax, or boric acid. It’s a white powder that is used in a variety of household products including detergents and ant poison. The particular product I ingested was some kind of laundry spot remover. We retrieved the box, which instructed me to drink a glass of water and seek immediate medical attention.
But, really, I just swallowed a little bit, and I hate doctors and hospitals. Johanna agreed. "I really don’t think this stuff is all that toxic. I think it would be a good idea to just calm down before you take any action."
This coming from the woman who thought it would be a good idea to keep fluffy white death in a convenient salt shaker on her kitchen counter.
Well, I didn’t panic. In fact, I continued preparing the meal, but I asked Johanna to look up boric acid poisoning on the internet while I did so. I was feeling a little queasy for sure, but I found it hard to tell if it was from poison or just thinking about the mere possibility of being poisoned.
Maybe I kept cooking because I was in denial, or because I didn’t want to go out without tasting beer-battered tilapia. But I was fully aware of the irony of paying extra money to get the organic foods. No, I don’t want any pesticides on my produce, not when I can put it directly into my mouth.
Eventually, I did contact poison control. I wasn’t impressed. Sounded like she was doing the same thing we were -- looking up effects on the internet. I don’t care who you are -- you don’t feel confident in the medical prowess of wikipedia.
Essentially, I was told about a bunch of gruesome effects, which I would like to spare you, except I changed my mind. Vomit and diarrhea, for example, and they could be green or blue, and that’s okay. But if there’s any blood, I need to contact a doctor right away. There’s also the possibility of a red, beefy rash on the arms, eyes, scrotum...
When you hear the word scrotum in that sentence, your ears shut down. Some kind of defense mechanism prevents you from hearing any more, once you realize your junk is being attacked. And what the hell is a "beefy" rash anyway? I’ve seen rashes in my day, but never one that looked bovine at all. I once saw one that looked a little bit like Jesus, but would a medical journal warn you about a "Jesusy rash"?
At any rate, I did finish cooking the meal, and it was good. And I never suffered any symptoms besides the stress-induced queasiness. And I have come to realize that people with Masters’ degrees, while educated, sometimes don’t see what is obvious to you and me, like the potential down-side of putting white poison in a salt shaker on the kitchen counter.* (They only see the convenience of quick stain-removal.)
And here’s one more horrifying thought. We have since been reading a little more about Borax. Oddly enough, in addition to killing ants and removing stains, Borax has one very interesting use. It is used as an ingredient in cuisine in Asia.
Think on that.
* I also have a Masters’ degree. Two words, people: "private school."