Slow juice.

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My recent trip to Europe left me inspired, rejuvenated. Reprioritising.

I started this reprioritisation process at the end of April, when I decided to take a break from sourdough bread-making. It had been a full-on 14 months, after all. As well as giving me more time, this decision saw me eating less bread, losing part of a spare tyre. Aside from eating too much–because it was ridiculously good bread!–I just think that my body doesn’t like that much bread.

Without the constant thought that I had to feed the starter or the kids needed bread for lunches or we had visitors coming over or cook a loaf that had been sitting in the fridge for too long, or arrghh!, I felt unburdened. I didn’t realise how much this process was getting me down.

So when my husband re-invigorated his old chestnut–‘Let’s buy a slow-grind juicer!’–the ensuing conversation went something like:

Me: ‘Really? Another machine cluttering up our tiny benchspace?’
He: ‘Yeah, but the juice is so much better for you.’
Me: ‘You do know a good one is maybe seven hundred dollars. And a lot more work.’
He: ‘If we get one, I’ll make you juice every day.’
Me: ‘Okay.’

[On rare occasions, my husband is more idealistic than me. I am always just as caught up in wanting to believe.]

So I sought answers from the international network, scoured the online forums, foraged through physical shops, all in search of the perfect slow juicer for us.

When it all got too confusing, I contacted my friend Angie for advice. I knew she’d done her research. As luck would have it, she was happy to lend us her very excellent juicer. And, when it arrived, I insisted on making the first juice.

My attitude to this juicer progresses thusly:

  1. First sight. Awesome! A good quality juicer! Thanks, Angie!
  2. Assembly. Lots of component parts. That’s okay. It makes sense. I think I can remember how to assemble it…
  3. Juicing. It’s taking a bit longer than I expected, but that’s okay. Look at all the produce it’s consuming! This is awesome juice! Thick and green. Full of goodness.
  4. Still juicing. Juice for six seriously takes this long?
  5. Juiced. So little juice. Yes, it’s thicker & stronger, but is it that much thicker and stronger?
  6. Cleaning. Okay. This is painful.
  7. Drinking. Good juice. But it’s only half a glass–and is it really that much better for me?

It was at this moment that I was reminded of David Wolfe’s wisdom:

Do what you will do.

I knew what I wouldn’t be doing–ie. making daily juice with a slow-grind juicer–so I tried to hold my wonderful husband to it.

Our almost three-month experiment ended last week. Hubby managed pretty well, with a fresh juice every 3-5 days–but it wasn’t as often as we were making it beforehand, and I wasn’t convinced that its value was that much better.

pure energy

While slow juicing may have some benefits over using my Thermomix (TM) and a nutmilk bag, I’m not certain that the level of goodness exceeds my TM juice by that much. Following this routine even every third day caused me to lose lustre for life.

Right now, I’m not prepared to commit to slow juicing. I love my green juice, and I already have an expensive appliance living on my kitchen bench that does a good-enough job.

H 🙂

PS. Thank you, Angie.

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