The Primordial Soup Cocktail

I consume equal parts junk food and health food, and I believe they mostly balance each other out. I'm not a big fan of vegetables in general, but I will consume anything if you reduce it to liquid. So I constantly run my Waring juicer and fill it with tomatoes, carrots, spinach, lettuce, cabbage, bananas, lemons, limes, oranges, apples, radishes, turnips, onions, grapefruit, watermelon, honeydew, canteloupe, guava, papaya, pears, strawberries, ginger root, pineapple, grapes, kiwi, celery, horseradish, etc., all in one big witch's brew of Plastids.

The resultant mixture isn't for everybody. I love the total plant-fiber immersion of it, but I've had even vegetarians tell me they don't find it palatable to have all those things mixed together into one super-powerful primordial soup.

And that's just what I call it when I add booze - the Primordial Soup Cocktail. At various times, I've added rum, vodka or cachaca to the everything-but-the-kitchen-sink juice mix, and I can report that the brainpower rush that comes from all that bombardment with planty goodness is exponentially enhanced by alcohol.

The Primordial Soup with rum isn't far off from various Zombie recipes, which usually calls for mixing three different types of rum with three different types of fruit juice. I hope you'll agree my version punts it to the vanishing point, especially when served in a Hurricane glass.

Some people's idea of a Zombie, however, is to mix several different types of liquor entirely - vodka, rum, gin and even bourbon. To do that with my mega-mix from the juicer would be such a senses-reaming experience I'd be tempted to name it the Total Perspective Vortex, in honor of Douglas Adams.

(Of course, it would probably taste bizarre and possibly make the imbiber quite ill and send them to Shambala. So, of course, we have to try it.)