A couple of months ago my parents introduced us to juicing. Mom and Dad were experimenting with juice recipes and happily sharing their discoveries. A few days before my own introduction, they showed my husband the wonders of the juice machine and enthusiastically gave him a glass full of some celery concoction. Dom is NOT a celery fan by any stretch of the imagination, so when he left my parents’ house that afternoon, he was not sold on the idea of juicing. At all.
By the time I stopped by their house later in the week, Mom had found a website of promising juice recipes and had me pick one. I chose Green Lemonade because I liked all the ingredients in the juice: apples, lemon, kale, cucumber, and spinach. Mom juiced it up, and I drank it down. I loved it.
I loved it so much that I came home to Dom and barked all night long about how awesome that juice was. Dom eyed me warily, since his juice experience had not been as rapturous as my own. I had to explain to him that the juice he tried had celery in it, and Mom didn’t know he abhorred celery, so future juices could definitely be tailored more to his taste. “Besides,” I added, “we could make you fresh tomato juice in the mornings. How cool would that be?”
Earlier in the spring, Dom had marked tomato juice off of my grocery list. Confused as to why he would voluntarily omit his favorite breakfast item from the list, I pressed him for answers. He said he had done his own research on BPA and decided to nix the plastic additive on his own. If you’ve followed the blog for long, you have witnessed a slow progression of understanding on The Hubster’s part. He battles me until he researches on his own, and then quietly comes around. It can be a maddening wait, but the ultimate validation is totally worth it. Apparently, the idea of making our own tomato juice was a winner, because 48 hours later we were the proud owners of a brand new juicer.
We loaded up on fruits and veg and headed home to make our own juices. I first made the Green Lemonade, which he liked, and I promised to find a good tomato juice recipe that resembled a spicy V8. (By the way, if you are into juicing, JuiceRecipes.com is a great site that allows you to select the ingredients you have on hand, and it generates a list of recipes you can make. It’s been a lifesaver for me when I’m staring into the fridge with that “duh” look on my face.)
Eventually I found a tomato juice recipe on someone else’s site that promised to taste just like V8, so I washed up all the appropriate vegetables the night before and had them waiting for breakfast. The next morning I juiced them all up into this really unattractive brown beverage. I smelled it. It did nothing for me. I handed it to Dom.
“This is just like V8?” he asked skeptically.
“Supposedly. Taste it.”
“You’re not drinking any?”
“Nah. You go ahead.” I watched him drink half of it, squint, stick out his tongue and shake his head. I eyed the half-full glass. “That’s three carrots, two tomatoes, half a cucumber, a cup of broccoli and some garlic left in that glass. You done?” I asked him. He made another disgusted face and tossed the rest of it down his throat. He looked like he had just swallowed motor oil. I felt bad that our tomato juice was such a horrific failure.
He kissed me goodbye and headed out the door, saying over his shoulder, “Lose that recipe. Please.”
I’ve had some practice with juicing since then, and I wonder if I could have saved that nasty recipe with a beet. Beets overpower everything else, and they’re sweet. Plus, who doesn’t mind a pretty purple beverage? It might have at least saved the taste. I’m on the verge of purchasing a recipe book, with hopes that it lives up to its promises. But first I’m going to the kitchen to juice up some beets and sweet potatoes from yesterday’s Farmer’s Market. Yum.