Picture it: You wake up after a night of overindulgence. Your brain is pounding like a bad techno beat, and your mouth feels like you've been licking sandpaper. Right when you swear off alcohol forever, a TikTok trend catches your eye. Users are singing praises about DHM, a.k.a dihydromyricetin. Your desperate, hungover brain squints skeptically at the screen. DHM sounds suspiciously like the plot twist of an unsolved mystery that TikTok detectives are scrambling to decipher.

Having been used in traditional Chinese medicine for centuries to fight everything from fevers to hangovers, DHM is now making a cameo in western-world supplements. Though wielding a hefty resume of Eastern acclaim and some backup from USC School of Pharmacy's Jing Liang, MD, PhD, it's important to note that DHM isn't some magical potion.

According to Liang, DHM may not be the get-out-of-hangover-free card everyone hopes for. Sure, the compound might buffer against alcohol-induced liver damage and lessen the feel-good effects of drinking enough to potentially reduce reliance on the devil's juice. Coupled with potential acetaldehyde reducing properties, a toxic compound formed when your body cracks down on alcohol, it starts sounding like DHM could be the Clark Kent of hangover cures. But hold that shot of optimism.

The reality is more complicated. To feel any benefits, you'd need to consume an absurd quantity, say, over 8,000 blueberries' worth of DHM. Also, with its seriously low bioavailability, your body can only absorb a laughable 4% from every 100 grams you ingest. So, yes, DHM might be the Clark Kent of hangover cures in a world where Superman just can't fly.

Grant Fowler from the Texas Christian University Burnett School of Medicine charges into the conversation, questioning the DHM hype and reminding us all about the credibility gap auspiciously lurking in the annals of flavonoid research. Critics argue that acclaimed benefits of flavonoids (like those notorious health claims about chocolate and red wine), might be skewed by socioeconomic factors.

Moreover, Fowler voices the most crucial question. Why are we downing enough alcohol to induce a God-awful hangover in the first place? Fowler notes that annihilating the following day through excessive drinking isn't the sexiest lifestyle choice.

In short, TikTok's new darling DHM may not be the superhero hangover cure it's made out to be. Despite the alluring claims, the effectiveness of DHM is still under investigation. For now, the door to DHM's hangover-curing claims remains tantalizingly ajar.