Last week, the beloved hot-dog joint Gray’s Papaya, in the West Village, closed to collective sighs of “there goes the neighborhood.” Word quickly spread about who was moving in: Replacing the decades-old New York institution, which shuttered due to a $10,000-a-month rent hike, is . . . Liquiteria, a growing juice-bar chainlet.
Juice?
Enough already. These days you can’t walk two blocks without tripping over a fancy-pants juice joint (Juice Press, Juice Generation, Organic Avenue, yadda yadda).
In the West Village alone, Organic Avenue has a location on the corner of Hudson and Charles — and another up the street, which just happens to be one block away from Juice Press’ Greenwich Avenue flagship. Still thirsty? Fear not: You’ll find a Juice Generation just 500 feet away at the Greenwich Avenue Equinox.
That’s a lotta liquid — but my own neighborhood, the Upper East Side, is equally guilty. Juice Generation has an outpost on Lexington and 63rd, yet, lo and behold, there’s a Juice Press one block over, on Third Avenue. You know, in case you couldn’t walk two minutes without going into lemon-and-cayenne-pepper-juice withdrawal.
I’m all for healthy living. But too many people are drinking the Kool-Aid (or, in this case, the cold-pressed kale) about the healthy benefits of juicing. In fact, you’re better off chewing your spinach rather than sipping it: Contrary to the belief that removing fiber from fruits and veggies — a by-product of the juicing process — helps you absorb nutrients, experts at the Mayo Clinic say that’s not the case.
If you really, truly must have your juice, save yourself some dough and squeeze the stuff yourself. I can’t respect somebody who doesn’t see the vulgarity of spending $9 on a juice.
Me, I’ll be at Gray’s Papaya’s last stand, on the Upper West Side, enjoying the $5 special of two hot dogs and a soda.