“Fresh” redefines itself in this juice. If fruit felt emotions, these apples would be ecstatic. Grown locally and organically, they had been picked by human hands only hours prior to seeing me. And now those same hands place those apples on a large, metal contraption and work hard to push down on a large lever. Over and over again. The apples cry in happiness, tears of delicious juice drip into the cup from which I now drink. Unprocessed. Unfettered. Literally, wholly, organically fresh-pressed.
The process? Incredible. But the taste? Eternal.
I didn’t know apple juice could stand alone. Previously used in my life only as a filler, substitute, sweetener for smoothies, and soother for crying toddlers, apple juice had no special place in my diet. But now? This juice is transformative. A mood enhancer without the headaches. Sweeter than syrup and happier than chocolate, one sip whisks me away into the orchard. I picture their vibrant, shiny, plump selves ripening in the sun. My tongue becomes my eyes.
A juice to savor, a sip to cherish. All the seasons wrapped up in one cup. I will never misjudge an apple again.