Mr. Tomato Shake

"I'm going to have to buy a tomato," Chris announced the other day at the grocery store.

Let me preface this by saying that Chris and I both hate tomatoes. In fact, one of our first "meant to be" moments when we were dating happened at a Pleasant Grove sandwich shop. We didn't see each other order, but when our food came up, we found out that we'd both ordered the same thing--roast beef without tomatoes. I know, destiny, right? So it was a little strange to hear Chris announce his begrudging desire for a tomato, and I responded with revulsion.

"Why on earth would you do that?"

"I need to eat healthier," he defended himself, which is true. He's been sick a lot recently, so he's decided to change his diet to include less sugar and fat and more fruits and vegetables in an attempt to get more healthy, which I'm all for, but still...

"Yeah, but... tomatoes?"

"I'm not eating them plain--I'm mixing them up with other things," he said. I considered this. It didn't sound much more appealing.

"You mean, like... into a shake?" I asked dubiously.

"Sort of," he conceded, and I blinked.

"Wait, you're actually making a health shake? You seriously are?" This was perfect. This was brilliant. I've been on a few health kicks since we got married, buying everything from quinoa to vegan cookbooks, and Chris has teased me mercilessly through it all. However, I've never gone so far as to make those "green" shakes that people make sometimes, mostly because I've seen the shakes that my friend brings to school sometimes, and I don't understand how she can drink them--the smell alone makes me never want to eat again. And now Chris was making himself a health shake? It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"So... are you going to get some spinach to go with that shake?" I asked, pointing to random produce items as we passed them by, including some I had to look at their labels to identify. "How about these turnips? How about this kohlrabi?"

From that point on, Chris couldn't get anything remotely unhealthy without me being the so-called "angel" on his shoulder.

"You can't get those tortillas," I said, a little gleefully. "Look at all the extra ingredients and preservatives!"

"They're just tortillas," he protested. "How bad for you can they be?"

"So says Mr. Tomato Shake."

Though I was having fun teasing him, at the same time I wanted to try and encourage this new health thing he had going, so every now and then I tried to be helpful.

"Have you looked up recipes?" I asked him, eying the growing array of produce with mild concern--I wasn't quite sure how some of it would taste in a shake. "I mean, this has been done before. You could at least look at some recipes to get some ideas about what goes good together, you know?"

"Oh, are there recipes, Stephanie?" he asked in mock surprise, and I decided I was done being helpful.

"Hey Mr. Tomato Shake, are you sure you want to buy that full-fat sour cream?"

When we got home, I watched him assemble his concoction in our little Magic Bullet blender as I cut up chicken for fajitas. He put in some tomato, carrots, onion, green peppers, and avocado. He also put in some sour cream and cayenne pepper, which I thought was strange for a shake, but I didn't comment on it. When the whole thing was done blending, I peered over his shoulder to view the results.

"I don't see how you're supposed to drink that," I said. "It looks more like chip dip or something. Maybe you should add some ice?"

"It is chip dip," he said, grabbing a bag of tortilla chips.

"Wait, what? You said it was a shake!" I accused.

"No, you asked if it was a shake and I said 'sort of,'" he corrected me, which seemed very unfair. Chip dip is not "sort of" a shake.

"But I thought it was a shake all night long! I've been teasing you about it!" I protested.

"I know," he said, heading to the couch to sit down with his snack. "It's been making me laugh all night long, actually."

So... I guess the joke was on me? I was a little bugged, but I did try some of that chip dip.

It was delicious. Go figure.