Carrot juice is the kind of thing you’d never order in a café. Too sensible, too healthy, too boring. And yet, since I started making it in the morning, I finally understand why some people are addicted to it.
In the glass, it’s bright orange — not the dull orange of supermarket bottles, but a bold, almost luminous orange, like a freshly peeled carrot. The smell is light and vegetal at first, then the lemon gently takes over. A fresh sip, slightly sweetened by the honey, with that acidity that wakes up the palate without being aggressive. It’s simple. Surprisingly good.
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