So I got all hooked on the carrot juice that they sold in the grocery store. Not living anywhere near a juice bar, and knowing for certain that I am far, far too lazy to maintain a juicer, that was my only source of this manna from heaven. 100% carrot juice, not tainted with orange or mango or passion fruit or (bleach) artificial sweeteners and the crap they usually sell. I find fruit juice too acidic and too sweet. Pure carrot juice is orange gold in a bottle. mmm.
And then that whole botulism thing happened, and ALL the 100% carrot juice was pulled from the shelves, everywhere.
In a panic, I went investigating to find out when my precious carrot juice would return to my grocery store. I asked botanists. I asked gardeners. I even contacted the competitor (Arthurs) of my former love (Bolthouse) and told them that they should produce 100% carrot juice. The answers I got were interesting (I didn’t know that botox = botulism toxin, for instance) but most distressing: ALL bottled carrot juice is at risk of botulism, unless it is mixed with evil fruit juice to balance out the ph. Or something. So, no more 100% carrot juice at the grocery store - EVER !!! I wept.
Of the four carrot juice sources that I know of in the city (all vastly overpriced and trendy and crowded, but I was willing to put up with that for my fix), none are conveniently located on my to or from anywhere. I could not have more than a rare treat from such places.
And then a juice bar opened up, smack in between the grocery store and my house! Hooray! But do they have a vegetable juicer? No. Fruit only. Ick. Argh.
And then I started this new job, near a place that I had a vague memory of having a juice bar (the PROPER kind, you know, the kind with carrot juice). Off I went. I wasn’t sure what to think when all the signs outside the store were for those blasted orange/banana/strawberry smoothies that everyone loves so gall-danged much, but once I elbowed my way through the silly smoothie lovers, I saw the unmistakable sign - piles and piles and piles of CARROTS. Dear sweet divine carrots! I was overjoyed.
As the fellow was making my juice, I dared to dream even further - should I press my luck? - and asked if, by any chance, he had any beets. (Beets may adulterate my carrot juice at any time they please. Same with celery and ginger. Call me crazy if you must …) After establishing that I was indeed referring to BEETS and not PEACHES (I love Toronto, where almost all retail workers have a language other than English as their first) the magnificent juice guy produced some deep red chunks of heaven to toss into my carrot juice.
I am so happy. I can feel it penetrating every corner of my poor body, so long deprived of that orange carroty juiciness. Yum.
I had no idea I was so addicted.