Lately, maybe as part of the "eco-chic" movement, there's been a tendency to isolate a single, exotic element - for example, wheatgrass juice or homeopathic drops or Chinese powder or enemas - and to use it exclusively in the expectation of a miracle.

The fashionable status of wheatgrass juice illustrates well the inherent problem of treating a particular element as a magic wand, detached from the worldview that spawned it. According to the Ann Wigmore method, for instance (www.annwigmore.org), wheatgrass juice is part of a healing regimen that consists of four major processes. Two of them - cleansing and rejuvenating the body - are done by means of this juice and a special nutritional menu.

Before the advent of eco-chic, wheatgrass juice-squeezers were found among only a small fraction of health advocates. Two years ago these squeezers seized the central position of every health-chic store. Lately they have begun to appear in regular juice stands and even in kiosks.

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What exactly is this juice? When the wheatgrass sprout is allowed to swell and is planted in the ground, a thin blade of grass with a slightly sour taste sprouts in a few days. Wheatgrass has a high concentration of Vitamin B12 along with other basics: proteins, chlorophyll and minerals. Its advocates maintain that this substance is particularly effective in dealing with problems such as anemia, rheumatism and high blood pressure. It's recommended for pregnant women and breast-feeders and for people who are recovering from a serious health crisis.

Who drinks it? A long line of enthusiasts can be found at these squeezers, waiting for salvation-via-wheatgrass. Not only do they drink it, they also rub it on their face, hair, scalp and gums, and on sores.

What does it taste like? Those who imbibe it say it's between "disgusting" and "bearable." Those who are good at seeing the "green half of the glass" say you get used to it. They make a face, take a sip and manage a smile. It's one more type of experience in which the dividing line between suffering and pleasure is blurred. However, the taste of this greenish liquid need not be a problem because it can be mixed with fruit juice; indeed this is what many people do.

What is disturbing about this juice is the reputation it has acquired as a miracle worker. I ran across a well-known restaurateur in a trendy natural foods store some time ago. Her restaurant is famous for its excellent foie gras and she is a mouthpiece for gourmet food sites around the world. Every afternoon she comes to the squeezer and avidly gulps down a glass of the green stuff. Before the foie gras and after the shawarma. "It's wonderful," she declares. "It makes me feel so clean."

Clearly it's easier to swallow something bitter - green or blue or yellow, expensive if possible and with the air of fashionable chic - than to adopt a routine of eating simple, healthy food. Wheatgrass juice provides a sweeping validation for this because, according to its advocates, one kilogram of it is equal in value to 35 kilograms of green vegetables, it is rich in Vitamins B, C, E, A and K, and it is a superb source of calcium, potassium, iron, magnesium, phosphorous, sodium, sulphur, zinc and 17 types of amino acids and enzymes.

The question is whether it's possible to rub or swallow or drip something, even something healthful such as wheatgrass, once in a while, to ignore all the other recommendations and to expect a miracle. My feeling is that this miracle will take place, if at all, only in the bank accounts of those who sell instant wonder-solutions, not in those who drink them.