Editor's note: and after two weeks of faithful service, the thing started leaking - flooded the motor - and is now totally useless. Calls to customer service have gone unanswered. So there you go. Buy an Osterizer instead.
The Kombucha Man was proud of himself, as he sometimes is, and the large package wrapped in decorative wrapping paper he thunked on my kitchen island with a loud, proud "thump."
"You wrapped this?"
"Hell no, my neighbor wrapped it. I might as well have two hooks for hands as far as wrapping paper goes," quipped the Kombucha Man. Honest, perhaps sometimes to a fault. "Well open it, jerk!"
As soon as I could see the label I knew what was inside - and I knew that there would be a bet or challenge somehow attached (my kitchen adorned with dollar bills signed by the losers of various previous bets).
It was a NutriBullet, the plucky bastard cousin of a plethora of commercial juicers and small-capacity blenders available to service the (inexplicably?) persistent fad of juice dieting.
"You have to replace one meal a day with a smoothie."
I was already miles ahead of the Kombucha Man, "vodka okay?"
But I am not a single or even double-duty sort of tool user, and I put my mind to what other purposes, many nefarious, I could bend the NutriBullet toward:
- Milling breadcrumbs.
- Blended crepe or pancake batter (replace half of the volume of flour with carrots, parsnips or brussels sprouts).
- Processing nuts, nut butters, and pestos.
- Processing pie dough.
So far I have done all of these, with pretty good results.
If the device possesses a fatal flaw, I have yet to discover it.
So, I introduce to you dear reader the NutriBullet. I think this is going to be a long, sordid affair (makes shame filled glance at my KitchenAid immersion blender).
Naturally, I will share the wealth.
- 1 cup loosely packed spring salad mix (mesclun, radicchio, arugula).
- 2-3 stems of fresh italian parsley.
- 2-3 stems of cilantro.
- Pinch of cumin.
- Finger of ginger.
- 2 teaspoons of raw honey.
- 1/2 ripe pear.
- 2-3 baby carrots.
- 1 cup (8 ounces) of Lev's Original Kombucha (or the cool experimental stuff!).
I blended this abomination and it took me some time to grow to love it: the savory elements of raw leaves, especially the forceful (if not slightly biting) parsley and cumin was really augmented by a hint of cumin. But cumin, coriander and carrot are all either kissing cousins or complementary flavors. The whole thing was made more palatable with the addition of the pear, ginger and honey.
I might consider adding half a banana in future revisions.