Beets blended with peaches. Lime juice with ginger and grapefruit. Broccoli juice. These are small delights. At first, I loved how good I felt, no longer skipping breakfast, no longer feeling guilty that I’d again fallen short of the five to ten recommended produce items. Making a quick smoothie in the morning gave me a steady, happy kind of energy. It’s like the cells in my body were all gumming “thank you” in unison. They showed their gratitude in clearer skin, stronger nails, and in a very content digestive system. That was the beginning.
Soon, because it was so easy, I got adventurous. What blends would tast best? What cold I do with that fruit at the market that I’d never tried before? What would carrot taste like with pineapple and fresh mint? How much cayenne is too much? In my own way, this was culinary artistry. There is such joy in creativity. There is fun in crafting a smoothie, in experimenting. And there’s meditation in that strong Vitamix hum. New synapses were firing in my brain.
Before long, I was recycling the take out menus and making fresh and less expensive dinners. I was remembering how much I loved to cook before life got so busy. I was remembering that I didn’t need recipes but that I could just play. I would set the table and serve my dishes, knowing there was some of myself in them. I lit candles for my husband and me, even if we were only having soup, because suddenly food was special again. I was serving him something I had made. My kitchen became playfully sacred.
My sister-in-law bought me a beautiful hand-stitched apron earlier this year and I wear it when I get into the kitchen, It’s 1950s style and although I can’t remember ever seeing her in an apron, I think of my grandmother when I put it on.
So, dear Vitamix, while you set out to make the world’s best blender and to help people eat healthier, you’ve also reconnected me with my creative spirit, with my family and with my local farmers market. You’ve inspired me to celebrate and honour food again. Thank you.