I juice now. This isn’t a story about how the past year of my life has played out — I literally started last week after I quit smoking. Addiction doesn’t just melt away, leaving you with a better version of yourself. Mostly you have pockets of need where smokes used to fit in, and now you have to fill the void with quality television, hot younger men and juicing.
The editors at The Bold Italic gifted me with a Juicero to get an idea of how the everyday working gal could incorporate it into her life. Just kidding! It was a 4:00 a.m. Sunday impulse buy. I think I first skimmed through an article about it on Goop. What TBI wanted to know was whether the latest revelations about the company would dissuade me from continuing my subscription. More on that later. First, I need to make it about me for a moment longer.
I used to go to Vallejo’s farmers’ market on the weekends. I’d buy a good amount of fruits and vegetables for amazing vegan dishes with the intention of creating masterpieces. Never happened. The produce would live in the refrigerator until it turned brown. The only two things from the farmers’ market that ever made it into my stomach were grapes and kettle popcorn.
When I’m waiting for food to come out of the microwave, I’m usually lighting up or crying on the kitchen floor, remembering my life’s mistakes.
This is part of the disconnect between who I think I am and who I actually am. A month ago I thought sweet tea and a menthol would be my nightcap for the rest of my life. But the Juicero ad sold me with the idea that I’d get my five servings of fruits and veggies without having to cook or clean.
Let me walk you through this.
A machine that resembles a speaker sits on your kitchen counter. It’s heavy as hell, so be careful picking it up out of the box. Plug it in and download the app that keeps track of what you’re having. You get perishable packs delivered to you weekly. They last seven days. I think.
You stick the bag in the machine and press the one button. Two minutes later you have high-quality pressed juice in your kitchen. Beautiful. Everything should be this easy. Also, the app knows which pouch you put in and will tell you all about it.
When I’m waiting for food to come out of the microwave, I’m usually lighting up or crying on the kitchen floor, remembering my life’s mistakes. But the Juicero doesn’t let me. While I’m waiting for my juice, the app on my phone pulls up the name of the drink I’m having and even tells me what farm the produce came from. I stand there and read about the farm my Granate Glow came from and all the good stuff that’s about to fill up my stomach. (I’m not completely clean — I had Popeyes for lunch, so that’s what the Granate Glow is now soaking into.)
It took longer for me to think about where Brawley, California, was than it took me to finish the eight-ounce glass. It was delicious. I buy into anything, obviously, but this juice really is different. I’ve bought almost every brand of juice from Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s and Berkeley Bowl. They’re all either too sweet or too bitter, or they leave a weird aftertaste in my mouth. This was smooth and clean. It went down and stayed that way without leaving me with anything to regret. The true test will be when I have the Greens drink for breakfast tomorrow morning. I’m guessing it will all work out.
Three days into my subscription, and the online community has lost its mind over Juicero. When I read the Atlantic article, I thought I would learn that the CEO had murdered puppies to supply the energy needed to run the machine. But no. It’s because the machine isn’t the Holy Grail, and people are upset.
The Juicero presses the pouch to put juice in a glass. I could do that by hand, but it falls into the category of things I would never want to do. I’m an ’80s baby who belongs to a subgroup I like to think of as the forgotten Reagan years. We didn’t invent Facebook, but we also didn’t have half a dozen kids or saddle ourselves with debt we could never pay off. We’re in our 30s, and we pay our rent without a partner and kids, but our Instagram feeds aren’t 90 percent exotic countries most people can’t find on a map. If we aren’t smoking, we’re ordering fresh juice online.
A lot of us live in the Bay Area. I know this because I exist. If we see an ad for a $400 juicer, we’re going to buy it. Will I pay someone $60 a week to deliver fruit and veggies cut up into pouches so that all I have to do is put it into a box that squeezes it for me? Yes, I will.
I’ve made it 30-plus years without setting foot in a kitchen or getting shot, and I plan on keeping it that way.
Anyone who thinks $60 for a week’s supply of fresh fruits and vegetables is excessive hasn’t driven through Jack in the Box at 2:00 in the morning with drunken friends. I’ve spent close to $40 on a full paper bag, the contents of which I couldn’t recall to you. There’s a whole lot worse you could do for $60. So yes, I will continue to pay Juicero to deliver juice to my house. For $60, I’ve put that aspect of my life in someone else’s hands, and I can concentrate on more important things.
There’s nothing more condescending than having someone tell you that instead of paying X amount of money for something, you could go someplace and pick up tools and supplies to do it yourself.I would rather shoot myself in the leg and treat the wound than have to cut up vegetables, put them in a blender and clean up the mess.I’ve made it 30-plus years without setting foot in a kitchen or getting shot, and I plan on keeping it that way.
I’ve quit smoking. I’ve found a way to hit my daily fruits and vegetables. Stay away from my Juicero, and just do the things that make you happy. It’s time for a Granate Glow.
