Pressed Juicery: What Hollywood Is (Not) Eating
At a recent women's magazine fashion shoot, we interviewed a celebrity so skinny she looked like you could practically suck her through the straw of the algae-colored drink she was nursing. The plastic one pint bottle (slapped with a chicly adorably label for the Brentwood juice delivery service, Pressed Juicery) was about as wide as one of her triceps. "I love these!" she chirped. "I drink them every day!" We suspiciously eyed her mossy-looking beverage, and swiftly changed the subject.
Smash cut to January 1st, 2011. We're idly scanning our friends' Facebook statuses when we notice not one, but three more mentions of Pressed Juicery.
Hollywood, it seems, is pretty juiced about juices. Again, that is. Certainly the raw juice craze is nothing new: The Beverly Hills Juice Club (something of an experience to visit, between the comically brusque counterman and the crowd of waiting customers with a tendency to volunteer tidbits about their intestinal health) has been turning out wheatgrass shots and the like as of 1975. But the fervor over Pressed Juicery still feels (sorry) fresh, in the same way that this year saw so many women fervently pressing pictures of model Freja Beha Erichson's shag into their hairdressers' palms, as if the look hadn't been kicking around since the seventies.
The big draw at Pressed Juicery is probably the three to five day cleanse, consisting of five juices a day, plus (oh, glorious splurge) an almond milk. We won't delve too deeply into what the critics think of all this--the body cleanses itself, any lost weight will yo-yo back as soon as you eat, etc, etc. You know the drill.
What we do want to say is that the juices, which are cold pressed using a hydraulic juicer that grinds produce to a pulp, then extracts the juice using pressure (to improve freshness and maximize nutritional value, according to the shop's website) are actually quite good: Bright-tasting and smooth, almost silky. Even the Oscar the Grouch-colored drink that tiny celebrity was sipping, the Greens 1 (a blend of kale, spinach, romaine, parsley, cucumber, and celery), turned out to be sort of lovely and refreshing. Like a salad, but without all the pesky chewing.
The stand is tucked directly beneath Brentwood's Maha Yoga. Which means you'd better get there early, before all the Lululemon-clad Steve Ross acolytes have snapped up the inventory. When we arrived at 10AM on a weekday, all but a small handful of blends were already sold out.
We're talking about Brentwood, here, so don't expect your earthy, ascetic bliss to come cheap. A Big Gulp-size agua fresca may be had for a song in Highland Park, but here, a 16oz bottle of juice will run you $6.50; $8 for almond milk.
For those with a Ben Franklin (or two...or fifty) to drop on beverages, there is also home delivery service. Order a minimum of 4 orders of 4 juices each in a month's time, and Pressed Juice will drop them on your doorstep in an insulated box--packages range from $120 to $5000.
Paparrazzi not included.
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