I understand that a box of empty cans is not ordinarily cause for celebration, so let me explain. I have wanted this for four years.

There was a stretch a while back where I went deep into what bakeries and cafés in Asia were doing. Properly deep. I was turning over the idea of opening a café myself at the time, which never happened, and I spent an unreasonable number of evenings building an imaginary menu for a place that did not exist. If you have ever done this you know it is one of the most enjoyable activities available to a person. No rent, no staffing, no health inspector. Just you and a list.

That is where I found the cans. Cakes, sealed inside clear cans with a foil top. You peel the lid back and eat the whole thing out of the can with a spoon. I thought it was the most charming piece of packaging I had ever seen in my life and I wanted to try it that same week.

So I looked into what it would take. At the time, the only machines that could seal those cans ran well over a thousand dollars. For something I wanted to try. Not something I had a business plan for or customers waiting on. Something I wanted to find out about on a Thursday.

I let it go. That is the polite version. The accurate version is that I put it down and then glanced back at it for four years.

My brain does this. It fastens onto objects, and not useful ones either. Very specific ones, usually involving packaging, and then it will not let go of them no matter how long I leave them alone.

Here is what brought it back.

I started an intermittent fast on the first of September and I have stayed with it. It was rocky early on and I am not going to pretend otherwise, but I am more adjusted now, and I break my fast somewhere between three and six in the afternoon depending on how the day has gone.

It is not a dry fast. I drink water the entire way through, which is perfectly fine, and also extremely boring.

There is a side effect I did not plan for. I work late, frequently until six in the morning, and then I sleep well into the afternoon. I want to turn that around. I want to be up at a normal hour with the rest of the world, working in daylight, finishing things before the sun has gone anywhere. The trouble is that it is a hard ask when there is nothing ahead of you all day except another glass of water, and you are meant to be thinking clearly, writing, testing, baking.

I needed something to carry me through those hours. Not food. Just something.

Which is how I ended up making almond milk in a blender.