Bernard O'Shea: I tried mastic gum and it cured my hearing loss — seriously 

I bought Mastiha Chios to help with bad breath, but it had an unexpected benefit 

Bernard O'Shea. Photograph Moya Nolan

I will wax lyrical about my mastication’s newfound benefits for anyone who will listen. I'll tell them of helpful Greek tree sap that has made me a better listener, Mastiha Chios.

What is Mastiha Chios?

"Mastiha Chios, often referred to as the "Tears of Chios" or the "White Gold of Chios," is a product produced only on that particular Greek island. Since antiquity, this sticky resin, which seeps from the bark of mastic trees, has been harvested not only for its flavour but its therapeutic value as well," says  The Greek Reporter.

The harvesting of the sap is highly labour-intensive. Farmers cut the bark manually, and when the extruding sap has solidified, they then collect it. It's then cleaned manually on the island in towns and villages. The tree sap collection, the skill involved in its cleaning, and the trees' rarity make this white gum from Chios very expensive.

I bought a small 20-gram packet on amazon, and it cost just under €12. To put it into perspective, that is around the price of 10 packs of regular gum. An EU designation of origin protects it, and it's also predominantly manually produced. Nearly everything is done by hand. Combine this with its ancient, supposed health benefits, and you get one highly-priced chewing gum.

Mastiha Chios has been around for a very long time. Most historians believe it has been harvested and sold for the best part of 3000 years. The ancient Greeks used it as a cure for bad breath and stomach ailments, and it's also an ingredient in chrism oil which has been used for centuries in religious ceremonies.

It is also used extensively in Mediterranean cooking in pastries, soups, and cosmetics. Is there anything this magical tree sap can't do? Mastiha Chios essentially was the petroleum-based product of the ancient world. A gummy substance with endless applications like plastic. In its day, it was one of the most expensive products, pound for pound, on earth, and it still demands a high price.

The first thing you notice about mastiha is that it feels like plastic. Its smell is reminiscent of pine. Why you want to put it in your mouth is beyond me. Who was the first human to think that this was a good idea? I always think of the first human being who tried drinking cow’s milk for the first time, the first person to say, “Hey, do you think if we grind down the tops of this grass plant and mix it various things we haven’t found yet, we could make a stable food for human existence?”

It tastes initially like a Bic biro pen cap dipped in a spruce floor cleaner. But the flavor mellows out and eventually becomes mild. Here’s the magical thing, however. Unlike regular chewing gum, its flavour never goes away, nor does its chew. It’s almost like the never-ending gobstopper in Willy Wonka’s factory.

Green mastic tree in Chios island, Greece. Bernard O'Shea tried mastiha chios, often referred to as the "Tears of Chios" or the "White Gold of Chios." 

I can’t say I liked the taste of it. I’ve never been a fan of floral flavours in food. I wouldn’t say I like Turkish delight and have had delicious deserts ruined by perfectly placed globes of lavender ice cream. If you’re a chef, please stop putting flowers onto food. It looks lovely, but I’m not a bee. Just because something is edible doesn’t mean it should be eaten.

As always with rare and expensive things, the proposed health benefits are endless. Some of them are realized from the by-product of chewing. For men, it’s said that if you chew on the mastiha, you will develop a masculine jawline akin to that of Don Draper. Now I don’t have a jawline, and I’ve been chewing away for four weeks and still no luck.

As for my breath? I’ve always been over conscious of it anyway. I brush my teeth constantly and go through a bottle of mouth wash every week. It was thought that bad breath was reinvented around the turn of the century to sell mouth wash and advertisement executives in the early 20th conjured up “halitosis”. The term “once a bridesmaid, never a bride” was a slogan invented for the Listerine brand targeting females. However, Mastiha Chios has about 2000 years on Don Draper and Madison Avenue.

I have to say neither did it do anything for my stomach. I did eat less, however. My chewing fetish was transferred away from my hidden bag of Refreshers that I confiscated at my kid’s recent birthday party. But my digestion didn’t rapidly improve. Neither did my breathing. I’ve always been snot-ridden and go through a barrel of Olbas oil every week. However, my hearing improved. Yes, my hearing.

One morning nearly a month into my mastic Iliad I woke up to find what I thought was blood on the pillowcase. I’ve often looked into my wife’s eyes after I’ve forgotten to do something for her and thought, “She’s going to kill me in my sleep.” It wasn’t blood, however. It was ear wax.

The chewing movement of the jaw helps the wax clear out of the ear canal. I was chewing so much that eventually, with my head on its side and the aid of gravity one night, it fell out onto the pillowcase. Warning! Do not read the following line if you're squeamish. There were tonnes of the stuff. So, when my wife says no, I don’t listen to her, I have an excuse. My ears are full of wax; I’m not listening to anybody. So, if you’re looking for a solution for your waxy ears and don’t mind the taste of floor polish, then Mastiha Chios could be the chewable cure for you.