8 Best Juicers of 2026

This is the pick we hand to most people, and the argument is short: a 100-ounce hopper, a 6.5-inch chute, and one strainer that handles juice, nut milk and sorbet, for a fraction of what the top pick costs. The spec sheet reads like a premium machine’s, and in use it mostly behaves like one.

The rhythm is what sells it. Load the hopper, switch on, and come back to a cup of juice and a cup of pulp. At 60 RPM and 350 watts it’s slow enough that nothing heats up, and the single strainer means no swapping baskets mid-recipe — the chore that makes most 3-in-1 machines more trouble than they’re worth. Sorbet from frozen fruit is a genuine second use rather than a line on the box.

Where it gives ground is build. The plastic handle and the lid fittings are the parts to watch, and at 17 inches tall it needs a clear run under the cabinet, so measure that gap before it earns a permanent spot. Everything detaches for the dishwasher, which is what keeps a daily juicer out of the cupboard instead of back in it.

At just over seven inches wide, this is the machine that fits where the Nama doesn’t. On a counter that already carries a coffee maker and a toaster, that’s not a footnote — it’s the reason a juicer stays out and gets used instead of living in a cupboard.

The trade is prep. The feed opening is narrow enough that apples need quartering and celery needs cutting down, so you’ll spend a few minutes with a knife before you spend a few with the machine. In exchange you get the simplest cleanup in this group: a 24-ounce jug, a 36-ounce pulp bin, two interchangeable filters for less or more pulp, and parts that go straight into the dishwasher. A reverse button clears a jam without disassembly, and we reached for it more often than we expected.

It isn’t faultless. Mango and other soft, fibrous fruit can clog the screen, and apples produce a squeal that’s out of character with how quietly it handles carrots and beets. The jug is small, too — fine for one glass, and one refill away from two.

A 5.8-inch chute is the reason to look here. Whole apples, a fist of beet, carrots without halving — nothing else in this group feeds this easily at this price, and it’s the single change that makes a daily glass feel less like prep work.

Behind the chute sits a 400-watt motor turning one auger at 55 RPM, with twin 0.3 mm mesh strainers and a reverse function for the occasional jam. It’s compact in the right way: five inches deep at the base, so it tucks back against the wall, and light enough at 4.42 kg to carry to the sink one-handed. The 500 and 700 ml cups suit a glass or two rather than a pitcher.

Durability is the open question. The motor is the part that goes, and a year of cover is the bare minimum rather than generous. Buy it for the chute and the footprint, keep the receipt somewhere findable, and feed tough stalks at an even pace instead of forcing them.

Nothing else here turns a shelf of produce into juice as quickly. A 700-watt motor spins a titanium-reinforced disc against a stainless micro-mesh basket, and the three-inch chute takes whole apples and oranges, so the job is one sitting rather than a project.

For a machine under ten inches square, that’s a lot of power, and Breville spends it on speed rather than finesse. The 25-ounce jug has a froth separator built into the spout, which sounds like a marketing line until you pour a glass of apple juice that isn’t half foam. The cord wraps under the base and the parts are dishwasher safe.

Centrifugal juicing has costs, and this one pays all of them. It’s loud, the pulp comes out wetter than a cold press leaves it, and greens need chasing through with something firmer behind them. The filter basket is the part to watch — it’s thin stainless, and a hard stalk can dent it, so feed celery and chard steadily. It stays on the list because nothing else at the price gets you from a full fridge to a jug this fast.

It’s loud. Not mildly noisy at breakfast — this is a machine you warn the household about before switching on, and 800 watts of centrifugal force in a plastic body is exactly why. If quiet matters more than speed, stop reading here.

What the noise buys is throughput. The three-inch Big Mouth chute takes a whole apple or a fistful of carrots, the pulp bin holds 80 ounces so you aren’t emptying it mid-batch, and the strainer brush in the box earns its keep. Juice bowl, lid, pusher and pulp bin all go in the dishwasher.

Build is ordinary, and early failure is the thing to watch. What balances it is a three-year limited warranty — longer cover than most of the cold presses here — which is why we’re comfortable pointing a family at a plastic machine.

Here’s who it’s for: someone juicing for four, several times a week, who wants the job finished fast and doesn’t want to spend cold-press money on it. For one glass on a quiet Sunday it’s more machine, and much more noise, than the job needs.

There’s no mesh filter to scrub. That’s the appeal: the basket is a smooth perforated piece rather than a fine screen, so cleanup is a rinse and a wipe instead of five minutes with a brush under the tap. If you’ve owned a juicer and stopped using it because of the washing up, this is the design to look at.

The rest is sensible rather than special. A 300-watt motor turns a single auger at 55 RPM, the 5.8-inch chute takes whole apples, and an eight-inch footprint leaves the counter looking normal. It’s BPA-free, dishwasher safe and light enough to move with one hand.

Endurance is where it asks for patience, because the record here is uneven — some machines run for months, others stop inside a few weeks. Buy it as a first cold press for a glass or two a day, not as the engine of a family’s weekly juice.

Five years of cover is the longest warranty here by a wide margin, and it’s the first thing to say about a name most people won’t recognize. Anybear backs this machine with free replacement for five years, which changes the arithmetic on a juicer that costs about what the Ninja does.

The design is unusual in small ways. The 4.3-inch chute sits between the narrow machines and the big-hopper ones, and it’s made from Tritan rather than the usual ABS, the material argument being a juice that tastes of the fruit rather than the plastic. The filter is a single stainless piece, so there’s no mesh basket to scrub, and the 200-watt motor claims 180 N·m of torque, which is enough for carrots and beet.

What we can’t tell you is how it behaves in year three. This is a newer model with less of a track record behind it, and a five-year warranty is a promise rather than a history. If the safety net is what you want and you juice a glass at a time, it’s a fair bet; if you want a machine with a long record, the Breville is the safer call.