I first tried wheatgrass years ago, when green drinks were being sold as the answer to better skin, more energy and possibly eternal youth.

I was mainly interested in the skin bit.

The trend eventually wandered off somewhere else, as wellness trends tend to do, and so did I.

More recently, I came back to wheatgrass juice powder through Raw Living’s organic version. This time, though, I was less interested in promises about looking younger and more curious about whether it made any noticeable difference around my workouts.

I do a fair amount of exercise, from strength work to spin and classes that require considerably more enthusiasm than I sometimes possess at the start.

So I began using wheatgrass before training and paying attention to how I actually felt.

Wheatgrass is made from the young leaves of the wheat plant and is usually consumed as juice, a shot or powder mixed with water.

It contains plant compounds and nutrients, including chlorophyll, which explains the colour that makes it look as though somebody has put the lawn through a Nutribullet.

And this is where I think older wellness writing, including some of my own, can get carried away.

A food containing antioxidants or nutrients does not automatically mean it will detox your body, erase wrinkles, dramatically increase collagen or transform your exercise performance.

Sometimes, yes.

There have been workouts when I have felt more switched on after drinking it. But this is where I have to resist turning a personal experience into a scientific conclusion.

Was it the wheatgrass?

Or had I slept better? Eaten properly? Had enough water? Drunk coffee? Arrived at the gym in a decent mood?

The inconvenient answer is that I cannot separate those things neatly.

There is no elegant way around this.

Wheatgrass tastes very green.

Not cucumber green. Not fashionable matcha green. More the sort of green that makes you wonder whether a lawn mower has somehow acquired a Nutribullet attachment.

H has tried lemon water and cayenne pepper. I have experimented with various combinations.

None has transformed it into a cappuccino.

I have, however, become used to it. And because I drink it quickly rather than settling down for an evening with a large glass of the stuff, the taste is hardly a major hardship.

The colour also makes me think of Nowruz, the Persian New Year.

Every year we grow sabzeh as part of the Haft-Seen table, the fresh green shoots becoming one of those visual signs that spring and renewal are arriving again.

Wheatgrass has exactly that sort of determined green about it.

I should add that we have not yet resorted to putting the lentil sprouts in the blender.

There are limits.

Yes.

And perhaps that is the most useful thing I can tell you.

I am not using wheatgrass because I think it is detoxing my cells, reversing ageing or quietly turning me into an elite athlete while nobody is looking.

I use it because I like the ritual.

It fits easily around the way I exercise. I have made peace with the taste. And on days when I take it before training, I rather enjoy the slightly ridiculous sense of virtue that comes with drinking something so spectacularly green.