#375 Moothie

The espresso stand is today’s version of the old soda fountain. Coffee bars have replaced that made-to-order niche once occupied by the soda fountains of yore. If so, then the old malt shop replacement is the smoothie bar. Now first, let me say I don’t like to wait in line. It’s probably because I grew up in Southern California not five miles from Disneyland and spent much of my formative years fidgeting in endless lines waiting for rides like Dumbo and his super-sized kinfolk, Mumbo and Jumbo. When Disney was parceling out his insensitive animal names in that fearsome coming-of-age saga, do you think calling an elephant-sized entity Jumbo was his first inspiration, or did he start with the slam against slow-witted Dumbo? The cute, the likable, the heartwarming, Dumbo. Where was I? Oh yeah, smoothies. I hate to go into espresso bars that serve smoothies. Because I hate to find myself in line behind a smoothie orderer. Let’s face it, most baristas are pretty good at what they do. Making the esoteric concoctions that people feel mentally active and creative enough to order but too lazy to fashion at home keeps a coffee jockey on her toes. But smoothies are an afterthought for most espresso bars, a jump on the bandwagon sort of add-on the reminds me of regular bars adding stir-fry or pizza places offering alfredo. Not sticking to what you know increases line time for the unlucky schmucks behind the smoothie princess. So that’s why I liked it when I saw smoothie bars opening up. The health-conscious made-to-order junkies could now get out of my coffee line and hustle their capacious derrieres down to smoothie-ville. There to imbibe banana and fruit potions till they’re vitaminized to death. I went into a smoothie bar once and was amazed at the variety, but just my luck, they offered coffee drinks too and the woman ahead of me had ordered some of both. It took forever. So here’s what I realized. My problem with smoothies was that they take so long for a beverage. But if I had been standing in a line at the burger joint, the same wait would have been perfectly appropriate. Like most things in life, it all depends on context. If I call someone Dumbo on the playground, it’s cruel and insensitive. If I make a children’s movie about it I’m a saint. So smoothies crossed over my tolerance threshold for a beverage but were within my patience perimeter for a food. Ergo, if I want to smooth my ruffled feathers, I had best reorganize my calorie categories to place smoothies firmly in the food column. When I was a cook in a rundown convalescent hospital, we had folks on liquid diets. Which meant taking the regular meals—burger, potatoes, salad—and running them together through a blender. Set for puree. Serve with straw. Kind of a proto-smoothie. But with meat and vegetables. Damn. If I’d only had the patience to wait in line at the patent office.
America, ya gotta love it.