Here lie the dead and dying victims of this morning’s juice wars. There’s nothing like fresh squeezed o.j. in the morning; it’s embedded in the culinary DNA of every kid who grew up after the 1950’s, when oranges became a readily accessible dietary staple. Tropicana and all the other so-called “Not from concentrate” juices (note, they can’t say “fresh”) stored for months in tankers and flavour-stabilized with all manner of flavouring agents, simply can’t hold a candle to the real McCoy.

This image caught my photographer’s eye this morning as they lay in the sink, and made me wonder if, when laid out in this battlefield context, vegans might shudder at the thought that fruits and vegetables also have lives. Hey, what do you want at 6 AM….Hemingway?

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