My grandpa loved fresh garden veggies, especially ones that grew from his own backyard plot. I, a finicky eater as a child, only cared for a few, and because my mother didn't like the green ones I rarely had to eat those. But even more unappealing than eating veggies was drinking their juice. I remember the juicer on my grandparents' kitchen counter and the orange drizzle that came out of it with a fresh supply of carrot juice. I don't remember tasting it, maybe I did, but I do remember thinking that it was nothing I ever wanted to ingest.
Now that I'm a more sophisticated eater—I occasionally eat broccoli and peas—I'm still a little turned off by the veggie juice idea. I love green salads and salsas, have no trouble eating fruit most days of the week, and sometimes try out ethnic foods, but the juice still has this negative medicinal-health-nut-old-person connotation.
What a surprise, then, that my lunches for the past five days have been a—mostly green—rainbow concoction of vegetable juice! (No, that wasn't me in the elementary school cafeteria trying to make trades with my students—my juice for their Lunchables). OK, I willingly started this juicing plan with Luke. His mom has convinced many family members to make these diet changes—for a time. We're told that energy will increase, weight will fall away, and aches and pains will diminish. Can't complain there.
So we're trying one week, but not juice only. We enjoy our fruit smoothies in the morning and currently they still have yogurt and almond milk in them. I do want to go at least a week without the dairy, but I think I'll ease in to this no eating situation.
The week is nearly to an end and here is what we know so far: we are hungry. Oh, and we are hungry.
The green juice: table art
Luke getting ready for his first taste
See, he likes it!! (He did say that he could barely choke it down, but I think he was just making a joke.)