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“Juice for Three Days? Yes. ”

Anyone who knows me knows that I like to eat. Scratch that. I love to eat. I think a few of you might share my passion. Food for me is more than something that sates me when I’m hungry. It’s something I look forward to like others might a night at the opera, a day at the races, or a morning in church. I know I am spoiled by the meals I am privileged to eat, and I know I can tend to overdo it because self-control was not something I was genetically engineered for, but hey, pursuing the pleasures of the table is not the worst addiction, and somehow I’ve managed to actually get paid to eat, so all in all it’s worked out okay.

But I know my lifestyle is excessive and there are also times when I feel like I, quite frankly, should take it down a notch. I eat out 4-6 times a week, and often my meals are heavy, multi-course affairs involving cocktails and many bottles of wine. To offset the effects of my hedonistic lifestyle, I exercise regularly and try to drink a lot of water (like that helps), but the truth is there are many days that I feel like I should take a little time to detox. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, and a wedding dress hanging in my closet was all the motivation I needed. Craig’s suit was hanging in there too, and as we started getting closer to the big day, we thought, why not try something like a juice cleanse before the wedding. We might drop a few pounds, we’d detox a little and we’d bond (or kill each other).

We decided we’d juice with Blueprint Cleanse, a new company founded by Zoe Sakoutis, a former raw foodist and a certified nutritional consultant, and Erica Huss Jones (full disclosure, Erica is a friend of mine) who set about developing a line of freshly pressed vegetable and fruit juices that would both cleanse and fortify the body with nutrients and antioxidants.

We were impressed with the website, especially with the page that listed the “possible benefits” of juicing: “boosted immune system, alleviates allergies, improved thyroid dysfunction, physical rejuvenation, reverses signs of aging, elevates mood and sex drive,” and on and on. That all sounded good to us. Their cleanse was available in three levels—Renovation (beginners), Foundation (good for anyone), Excavation (advanced, not us)—with a choice of 1, 3, 5 and 6 days ($75 for one day, $65 for every day after, with delivery to your doorstep included).

We went with the Foundation three-day cleanse, which was delivered on Sunday night in several miniature cold pack lunch bags filled with six 16-ounce juices per day. We were told to cut back on caffeine and booze two to three days prior to the fast and to try to moderate heavy, fatty foods to reduce the shock of the move from solid food to all juice, which we (sort of) did. We were psyched and ready to go.

But then on Sunday night, we got a call from my grandma Esther (Bibi is my maternal grandmother, grandma Esther is my paternal one). She’d tripped over her TV set’s power cord and in the process of falling, toppled the TV, which fell on top of her. She does not have a flatscreen, but rather a heavy old Sony set that probably weighs more than me. Remarkably she was not killed. But she was in a lot of pain. Craig and I got in a cab and headed over there because she refused to go to the hospital in an ambulance. She wanted us to drive her. (Don’t get me started.) Somehow, she got herself downstairs and we managed to get her out of the house and into her car (she still drives at 93) and over to Lenox Hill hospital where they could try to put her back together. X-rays and an MRI showed broken vertebrae in her neck and a hairline fracture in her spine. Needless to say, she was not happy. Neither were we. We got home very late Sunday night, stressed and exhausted. This was how we started our juice fast.

Surprisingly, Monday morning we woke up and were excited for the juicing. Grandma was in good hands and we were a bit more relaxed. We started with some tea (you are allowed unlimited water and herb or green tea!) and then the first juice of the day, a mix of romaine, celery, kale, mint and green apple juice that’s the color of verdant Spanish moss. It tastes mostly like celery with a slight tart sour apple bite that’s initially not pleasant but that does grow on you. (By the third day I thought the stuff was the juice equivalent of steak frites.)

I drank my juice, which took a while with 16 ounces to get through, and then managed to do a spin class and return home for the second juice of the day, a much more appealing elixir made from fresh pineapple juice, green apple juice and mint—now this one was delicious—a perfect balance of sweet, tart and fresh. I’d drink this every day if I could. I was feeling good. Three days seemed like a cakewalk. But then you know how cakewalks often turn out.

As you might expect, around 2:30 or so, as I was well into a write-up of a new restaurant, I started to feel my stomach growl. I was writing about a bowl of clam chowder with bacon and soft crusty grilled country bread and I almost cried. I realized I was not doing so well. Thinking about food, reading about food, and writing about food when you cannot eat, is not fun. I needed food.

Later that day, still without food, I was writing in the kitchen where the windows were open and our neighbor was doing the unthinkable: grilling sausages. I wanted to crawl outside and snatch them off their grill and eat them all. Yes, I was contemplating Grand Theft Sausage. Not good. Instead, I reached the for third drink, which was, for the second time that day, the romaine “combo meal” as Craig came to call it.

Then the phone rang. It was Grandma. She was crying and hysterical. Between her tears all I could get was that she thought she was dying. She was afraid and in pain. I felt awful for her, and tried to comfort her and calm her down, and told her we’d be there to visit soon. That night, after juice number four—a great spicy lemon, agave and cayenne juice (again, I’d drink this every day if I could)—we took the subway up to Lenox Hill to visit her.

At this point she had gotten a bit of pain medication and was calmer. We sat with her, one of us on each side, as she told us the stories of her life—how she worked to put my grandfather through medical school, how she bought their house on Avenue M with her own money—$22,000, in cold cash—on her way to the movies one night. We reminisced about our summers in New Hampshire—the icy-cold ocean, and days on the Rocks. Somewhere in between her doctor’s bedside visit (she’d be transferred to a rehab center in the next day or two) and leaving to go home that night, it occurred to me that I was actually really getting to know my grandmother, more than I ever had before. And over the next three days of straight juice and consecutive visits to the hospital, we shared more than we have in all the years I have known her. Aside from her neck being in a collar and the fact that she was in a hospital, we actually had a pretty good time.

But when Craig and I left the hospital, I was hungry, tired and had a wicked headache. I was craving the comfort of a burger and a beer. Instead we came home and had a cup of herbal tea and worked my way through another combo meal (romaine, kale, celery, apple and mint!) and then the last juice of the day, a “dessert” of cashew milk with cinnamon and vanilla. It was a treat, but it was not what I needed. (See above.) While Craig was doing fine, I was ready to throw in the towel.

On the last day of our juice fast, they discharged Grandma to a rehab center and I was ready to keel over. Grandma, with her broken neck and vertebrae was not. She was fired up and ready to do whatever she had to hear her body and get to my wedding. I have come to calling her Rocky. “I need to be at my granddaughter’s wedding, next Sunday,” she said to her doctor, with a slightly threatening tone. (You don’t mess with Grandma.) “Okay, Mrs. Strong, we’ll see how you do,” he said. I was thinking, Doc, you have no idea who you are dealing with. This woman has been waiting for me to get married for 39 years, since my little puny premature head popped out of my mother in 1969. “Grandma, don’t worry,” I said. “You’ll be there. I know you. If you have to wheel yourself down Lexington Avenue to be at our wedding, I know you’ll be there.” “Yes, my princess, you’re right. I will.” (Yes, she still calls me her princess.)

To cut to the chase, as I write this, we’ve just arranged for Grandma to come to the wedding on Sunday. Her doctors have cleared her to come to the wedding by car service (no ambulance needed!). As for me and the juice fast, I made it. Well, not really. I’ll be honest; I had a salad (I kept it raw but I had to eat something) after night number two at the hospital. Craig made it through the entire three days without cheating and he was pretty psyched. “As an admitted semi-undisciplined eater I enjoyed the regimented nature of the beast in that I got my drinks all lined up in a row and I had no decisions to make,” he said, a full six pounds slimmer post-juice. “The toughest part is socially, like when you drop by somebody’s place to see their baby and discover they’re having a full-on BBQ and all you can have is your romaine juice. The advantages were weight loss and knowing that I was probably doing something good for my body whether I saw the effects of it or not.”

As for me, I’m pleased that I went without booze or coffee and my usual regiment of dinners, but I’m just glad it’s over. I feel lighter (hollow is a word that comes to mind) and incredibly relieved that I can resume a normal life of eating again.

What I liked about Blueprint Cleanse was the convenience of delivery, the taste (as I said, I’d drink many of those juices on a daily basis if there were sold for regular consumption), and the quality of the product—all juices are pressed fresh in their NYC kitchen before being delivered to your doorstep. They taste like liquid fruit. I also appreciated the opportunity to set aside a period of time to detox my body and reboot. I know I needed it, but if I were to do it again, I’d start with just one day of juicing instead of going straight for three days, which was a bit aggressive.

Also, I may not have been wise in my timing. Clearly, deciding to do a cleanse just two weeks before my wedding when I was already under some stress was not smart. Couple that with the having my grandmother break her neck, and it really was not an ideal situation. If you’re thinking of juicing, try to avoid picking a time in your life when major changes are underway.

On the other hand, I did learn a lot about myself. I learned that it’s not just that I like to eat, it’s that I love the ritual of the dinner table. It was at night that I had the most trouble with the juicing because dinner is the most communal meal of the day for me. It could have been a salad, a burger, a bowl of pasta or even an assortment of leftovers. It was more the act of sitting down to supper together at the end of the day that I craved. The dinner table is where I connect with friends and family, it’s a chance to wind down, and to share, and to escape reality in a way. I missed that a lot, especially with all that was going on with Grandma. Granted, it was only three days, but those three days were days I really needed the comfort of food and I didn’t have it.

Bottom line: would I recommend Blueprint Cleanse? Absolutely. If you’re looking for a nutritionally sound cleanse, it’s the way to go. Would I do it again? Yes, but I’d start with one day and then take it from there. And I’d get Grandma a flatscreen TV mounted to the wall before beginning.

To start your own juice cleanse, visit Blueprint Cleanse now.

 

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Posted: August 15, 2008

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