Jamba Juice - It's Fer Real, Brah

I'm a big fan of gift cards and gift certificates. Around the holidays, I receive a lot of them from my students and their families. They've caught on over the years; I've gone from receiving Starbucks gift cards (that I sold to a friend, by the by) to ones for Victor Allen's, a local coffee chain. This year I got three from Subway (because the kids listen when I talk about how much I love sandwiches, see?), one or two for different bars, and two gas cards. Yep, they've got me figured out.

I keep all the gift cards in a little glittery green wallet my friend Tara gave me a few years ago. There are cards in there that are at least five years old. One of them, in particular, always caught my attention because of its obscurity and randomness. It was a card for Jamba Juice.

JAMBA JUICE. What the hell?

My mother handed me this Jamba Juice gift card once, years ago, saying that a patient at work had given it to her and she'd never use it. I shrugged and accepted it, figuring I could, one day, probably stomach a frozen juice or smoothie or whatever they serve there. I kept it in my green wallet and thought nothing of it until, one day, I decided to check the balances of each of the cards. Seven bucks and some change on the Subway card, twenty dollars even to Panera, and a whopping $30 to Victor Allen's (a gift from some siblings - I totally scored on that one). When I came to the Jamba Juice card, I almost ignored it, figuring I'd probably never get to Jamba Juice anyhow. But, just for fun, I decided to check the balance. Guess how much was on there...

No, for real guess. You'll never guess.

$50. That's five-zero. FIFTY DOLLARS. To Jamba Juice. Again, I ask you: What. The. Hell?! Who even buys a Jamba Juice gift card for fifty dollars?!

After enjoying the initial shock and hilarity, I sort of ignored the card for awhile. I always knew I was sitting on a goldmine of blended fruit, ice, and "boosts" (more on that later), but never had the interest or motivation to actually act upon it. UNTIL NOW. Whoops, caps lock. Until now...

A few weeks ago, Andy and I went and saw a play at the Overture Center. We don't often find ourselves on State St., so we decided to take a little walk. As we strolled down the street, a bright yellow vision appeared before us...Jamba Juice. The one and only. We looked at each other. "Should we do it?" I asked urgently. "I mean, fifty dollars." We were both intimidated, and decided to walk past and try again on our walk back up State St. When we arrived back, however, we were both too freaked out/nervous/scared to go in. Yes, seriously. Jamba Juice is intimidating.

But finally, the actual, real time came this past Sunday. The time to nip it in the bud, get on with it, just do it, and other such slogans. We found ourselves on State St. again after a lovely breakfast with my parents and a long walk, and so, as the bright yellow sign once again appeared in the distance, we squared our shoulders, narrowed our eyes, and determinedly headed inside.

The air inside a Jamba Juice is different. It feels recycled and recirculated, sort of like in a mall, but with the addition of a heavy citrus scent, which made my eyes water. The long line of people waiting for frozen juice wore colorful clothing and bored, indifferent faces. These colors and faces reminded me of the air: sort of false and sour. Many of the people there had fake-tanned legs. The clothes they wore were all different, yet seemed chillingly similar. I couldn't put my finger on what it was, but it seemed almost like some sort of unofficial uniform. One that nobody had told Andy and I about.

We read the menu sort of desperately and hysterically, feeling very much under pressure. "I'm deciding between the...uh...Mango-a-go-go and the...Orange-A-Peel," Andy said, looking intently at the list of confusing and stupidly-named beverages. I started to laugh and took a breath, ready to totally make fun of him, when I realized that I was probably going to order the Orange-A-Peel myself. Dammit. Lesson #1: If you're at a Jamba Juice, you're going to sound like a damn fool no matter what you order.

Once we'd decided on our orders (the two listed above - please don't make me write them out again), we then had to decide on what "boosts" to add. Yes, boosts (read about them here). We'd joked earlier about trying to create a drink with one of every boost in order to try and spend the $50, or at least a good chunk of it, but once we were inside the actual Jamba Juice, we knew it would be an impossibility. Or cause major loose stools, know what I mean? Those boosts are just too intense. Anyhow, I went with a 3G Charger Boost and Andy picked the Flax and Fiber Boost, though I was tempted by the Weight Burner Boost so then I could lose weight WHILST drinking Jamba Juice. Effective diets, amiright gals?



We both ordered the medium size, which, incidentally, was called "Original." The smallest size is called "Sixteen" and the largest is called "Power." Yep, Sixteen, Original, and Power. Whaa? We both got a boost, and a somewhat pricey drink. And our total was only $11.39. We did our best, and that's all we could spend. My damn Jamba Juice card still has $38.61 on it. Ugh.



They do have some products for sale there, like water bottles and t-shirts, and even this pretty nice citrus juicer that my dad might like. Maybe I'll go back and get that. I don't think I can take another Jamba Juice experience, even if I just order the Sixteen.

So, what have I learned from all of this? Well, I guess Jamba Juice sells smoothies. That's basically what they are. Really mediocre smoothies. The taste was...fine. The consistency...alright. It was all really unremarkable. What a let down, right? Andy and I did our best to match the mediocrity of the smoothies in the pictures we took of each other:


Other things I got out of this: Well, I finally spent some of the gift card and worked up the nerve to go inside a Jamba Juice. Sure, let's count that as something. What else...? Oh, Andy and I made up a whole new way of speaking to each other. We are now only talking in Addicted Boost Talk. For example:

Andy: Hey, I could really use a Boost right about now. Wanna hit up the Double J, brah?
Me: Awww, duuuuude, TOTALLY. I've been hardcore jonesin' for a boost.

Or, the sexy date version:

Me: Oh maaaaaaan, I had a hard day at work. I could really use a Boost right about now, you know, man?
Andy: Fer sure, yo. Let's shoot over to the Jambs and grab a coupla Boosts, have a nice romantic night, ya know girl?

Or, in more dramatic terms:

Andy (arriving after the long drive up to Madison): Babe, I GOTTA get me a Boost. It's been a week - there are no JJs in Monroe. We gotta get to State St., like NOW!
Me: Oh...yeah, sure...let's...um...go in a little while.
Andy (long silence, followed by a hysterical): DID YOU BOOST WITHOUT ME?! DID YOU BOOST WITH SOMEBODY ELSE?????
Me: No! It's not like that! I just...I just really needed a Boost and I was just passing by...
Andy: I can smell it on you. You reek of citrus. And your hair is so lush and shiny...YOU DID THE ANTIOXIDANT POWER BOOST! We were going to try that one together. TOGETHER!!!
Me: Babe, I swear, I only had one. I needed it. I DIDN'T THINK I WAS GOING TO MAKE IT!!!
Andy: It's like I don't even know you anymore.

Yep. That's what I got out of my trip to Jamba Juice. Hilarious, make-believe conversations.

Well, that and a blog entry, finally. I'll take it.

UPDATE: How could I forget to check on my favorite local restaurant review website, Eating in Madison A to Z, who just finished an EIGHT YEAR PROJECT to try every restaurant in Madison. Wow, that's akin to eating, like $250 worth of Jamba Juice, dudes! Check their much more respectful and mature review here. Baby aspirin. You are spot on, Nichole.

Wisconsin Love Affair #2: Hook's 15-Year Cheddar

I hit a giant and stupid wall of writer's block just a little while ago, while at the same time being unable to figure out how to transfer some pictures from my Google+ affected Picasa account to my stupid desktop. So annoying. It was a really frustrating moment, so instead of throwing my computer on the ground and screaming, I decided to stop myself and close that blog window. Totally not worth it.

Disclaimer: Before I decided to chill the hell out, I angrily deleted my stupid Google+ profile and my Picasa albums were once again perfect and usable. Stupid Google+. What's the point? I actually like facebook. Yesterday an old co-worker found a stray dog near her house and posted a picture, then a few of us in the neighborhood reposted, and THEN the dog's owner saw it and went and got his dog back! Internet! FACEBOOK! Tomorrow, I probably won't care, but for now, giant sucks to Google+ and applause for facebook.

Anyhow. Instead of making myself crazy by trying to finish the other thing I was writing, I decided to take a break...by posting a blog. Whaaaa?! Relax - it's another blog of food pictures. You should be used to this by now. For Christmas this year, my lovely boyfriend got me some beautiful, thoughtful, and amazing gifts. As we were exchanging a couple of days before Christmas, he confessed that he was nervous he'd gotten me too many food-related gifts. Immediately after, he handed me these:

That would be ice wine and Hook's 15-year cheddar cheese, made right here in Wisconsin. Holy crap, boyfriend. Holy crap.

You should definitely take the time to read about both the wine and the cheese, because they're both very unique and wonderful, and I've been talking about them for months, apparently (maybe I was subtly hinting at what I wanted as a gift, eh?). Honestly, I haven't tried the wine yet, but I have tried the cheese. Oh lord, have I tried the cheese. Andy and I rang in the popular holiday of December 31st at midnight by opening the cheese and sampling some. And it was amazing.

He cuts things very carefully.








We ate it plain, off the cutting board. Andy went through a lot of emotions, including disbelief...

"I need a rest..."

And, finally, peacefulness.
I think he nearly cried at one point. I just kept repeating "I'm so happy! I'm SO happy!" By the by, he's wearing his swimming trunks because it was really hot in my apartment.

What a bunch of nerds, eh?

How to Make Sushi with a Friend

I remember writing a blog entry a few months back, and promising that this wouldn't become a food blog. I promise, that was not a lie. "Become" is a word that completely transfers and changes, you see, so I can honestly say that I'm sticking with that. Yes, perhaps 99% of my blogs are now just pictures of food, but hey! I like pictures of food. I like pictures of food so, so much. Also, I'm busy. And lazy. So with that eloquent and detailed explanation, I give you...more pictures of food. But since I like you so much, you lucky so-and-so, I'll tell you what's happening too. How's that for busy and lazy!

I've discussed with several people lately how much I love cooking, baking, and preparing food with friends. Good activity, amazing company, and a satisfying result at the end. When else am I this productive with friends, I ask you? Sarah and I threw together last year's Nude Year's party on a whim and had the best time putting together appetizers and Nutella-banana empanadas. Sara, Layla, and I always had a great time preparing the spread for the Halloween parties, even though it was hours and hours of work. And I'll always appreciate that some of my favorite dates have been making dinner with a charming young man. Or a not so charming young man...in fact, on a few occasions, I think I liked making the dinner a lot more than I liked the man. Whoops a daisy!

Last night was the perfect example of this. One of my best and dearest friends, Tara, came to town, and had the brilliant idea of making sushi at her parents' house, which I'd never done before. Don't worry, though; although I'm a crappy student, Tara is a wonderful teacher. We had a wonderful time, putting together the rolls and gossiping about work, men, the future, and The Glee Project. Yep, we sure did. I got a lot of avocado on my camera whilst obsessively documenting. That was grody. But, hey, sexy results below, right? This is, by no means, a recipe, but more so a step-by-step guide on how to have an awesome time while making sushi.

First, you need a lovely friend and a bright and well-equipped kitchen. Thanks, Linda and Clay!

Next, you cut up whatever vegetables you want to include. Try and make them thin and long, and somewhat uniform.

We used carrots, cucumber, avocado, and tofu.

Linda, Tara's mom, had made sticky rice the day before, which shortened the process. Though, it still took us over two hours. Wah wah!

Tara cooked the tofu - you just dry fry it in a nonstick pan until it browns.

Hay, ingredients!

Sometimes people look a little sexy when they cook.

And sometimes people need to buckle down and focus and get back to work. That's right, Tschillard. Tighten it up.

Tara and Linda.

The assembly: Separate the rice a bit in your fingers and spread a layer over a sheet of seaweed. Then include whatever ingredients you want in that roll. We used all of them in this one.

This was the green roll: just cucumber and avocado. Texture-wise, this was my favorite.

Once you've got all the ingredients in, you roll them up and seal the end of the seaweed with a little bit of water. We made eight rolls total.

You need a sharp knife to cut through the rolls, otherwise they fall apart, or as Tara, said "explode." Wow, Tara, how dramatic!

This is one end of a roll, which looks a bit uneven, but you get the idea.

This is how many pieces we had. I bet we could make some great food bets and challenges with these!

Carrot, cucumber, and avocado rolls.

On the table. Good presentation is important, you know.

On the plate with a little soy sauce and wasabi mixed in.

I have to say, making sushi is the perfect activity for somebody with slight touches of OCD: you get to cut up vegetables uniformly and tiny, you make a huge mess that you get to eventually roll up into a neat little seaweed package, you get to arrange the ingredients by color, texture, and food group, you get to wash your hands numerous times...seriously, it's perfect.

We had a lovely evening of cooking and preparing food, then sharing it with Tara's parents and their friend. Tara also made these delicious truffles for dessert, but obviously I forgot to take any pictures of that. None. Maybe it was because I was so distracted by making the sushi. Or, maybe it was the fact that Linda made me three or four of these and I sort of forgot about anything else that wasn't a margarita:
Don't you love it when your friend's mom gets you liquored up? Classy times!

P.S. There was a widespread rumor (started by myself and Linda), that sushi and margaritas don't go together well, but we were proven wrong last night! You just need to get in two to three margaritas you before you have any sushi to make it work. Don't worry, you'll be great.

Restaurant Week Summer 2011 - 43 North

Guess what! I'm not feeling too wordy lately. So, here are some pictures from 43 North during Restaurant Week:

"Amuse bouche." Jess says, "Well, I'm amused!" Come on, man, that's FUNNY. It was also sort of greasy, and I don't remember what it was. Sorry.

Bread with European butter and olive oil powder. Food is complicated sometimes.

Watercress Salad: Pineapple, goat cheese and hazelnut.

Chilled Tomato Soup: Pressed melon, salsa verde and olive oil

Bounty of Vegetables: Truffle spaetzel, malt, barley and hazelnut. Hahahaha! BOUNTY!!!

Game Hen: Gnocchi, wild mushrooms, sorrel and mustard caramel.

Benedictine Cheese: Carr Valley, shallot fig conserve and red quinoa cracker.

Tamarind: Passion Fruit, cilantro and coconut

There were a couple of delicious vodka drinks. And they gave out a $20 off dinner coupon, so yes, I will go back.

There is a Farmers Market Across the Street

And there's a lazy lady who can't remember to charge her camera battery and is subsequently using her cell phone for all pictures these days.

Joy and Sorrow

I found this half-completed blog entry from a few weeks ago - I'd found myself in the throes of the craziness of Wisconsin politics and apparently jotted this down. I can't help but see the relevance to where I am - mentally, emotionally, physically - at this moment. Specifically the Joy and Sorrow part. The Prophet is one of my favorite books, and this is my favorite chapter. I really do believe it.

From 3/15/11
Has anybody else been feeling totally heightened lately? In so many ways. Like, tiny little things make me burst with happiness and joy. The sun was out an extra hour yesterday and I couldn't wipe the grin off my face. But the heartbreaking things - ugh, so heartbreaking. Everything is deeper than usual.

Things in Wisconsin have been just that: deeper. In my attempts to explain to non-Wisconsinites what's happening here, I doubt that I've been clearly articulating how intense it's been over the last 30 days. The good and positive things have been amazing, making me laugh hysterically while sitting in my car by myself at a red light. The opposite end of the spectrum has left me broken and weeping at times, feeling helpless and lost. It has all been so huge.

I hate politics. I really do. But when things like this happen, you can't help but be involved. You stop avoiding potentially volatile and confrontational conversations. Your neutrality and evenness shed away as you open your eyes and come alive. There is no more neutral or numb or medium. There is high and low everything, huge and giant everything.

I need to remind myself of the lesson behind the "Joy and Sorrow" chapter of The Prophet by Khalil Gibran: that one's joys can only be as deep as one's sorrows. That one is made from the other. That they are interchangeable.

Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

-Khalil Gibran

Halloweener and High Expectations

From 2002 - 2009, I traveled to Atlanta, GA every Halloween to visit my sister Sara and attend her legendary Halloween parties. My cousin Layla joined me every year, and on a couple of occasions, other cousins and my brother came down as well. One year, my brother Emil, myself, and all four Hodi cousins stayed with Sara at her house for the whole weekend. That's seven, count 'em, seven of us loud, demanding, hungry, and sometimes smelly family members, all staying in one house, along with Sara's two roommates at the time. That weekend was intense.

These aforementioned legendary Halloween parties were, well, legendary. Really. Every year, they grew bigger and bigger. At one party (in Sara's old house), this guy who nobody knew showed up wearing a costume that made him look like a giant Jägermeister bottle. When we complimented his costume, he informed us that he wasn't just dressed as the booze, but was actually a representative from Jägermeister who was assigned to "the biggest parties in Atlanta" on Halloween night, and Sara's house was on the list. He then proceeded to hand out tshirts, pins, and shots of Jäger mixed with honey and served in test tubes. Holy crap!

People don't mess around when it comes to Sara's parties. Although I don't have pictures from the first few years (the non digital-camera years), here's some evidence of the awesomeness that would abound at these parties. The last one I attended was themed The Carnival of the Dead and had a website dedicated to it where you could buy tickets. I'm just sayin'. Thanks to my dear sister, I take Halloween very seriously and have high expectations for costumes (although I'm totally last minute and half-assed this year, so I guess I'm all talk). Nevertheless, here is some inspiration for you all during this festive holiday time:

Just the rain cloud and the rainbow.

The Palin Family.

Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett.

Bruce Jenner!

Kim Kardashian and Joan Holloway from Mad Men.

The Kardashian sisters, in all their bumpit-big-butt glory.

Fortune teller at the Carnival of the Dead.

Fire dancer at the Carnival.

Knife thrower and lady on the wheel.

The tiger that jumps through the ring of fire and her trainer.

Dick in a Box.

The girl who stands up on top of the elephant.

The ringmistresses!

The clan - what a motley crew.

IRAQULA!!! It rhymes with Dracula.

Papa Smurf.

I'ma Mario! I'ma gonna ween!

Black widow.

Bret Michaels and Lacy from Rock of Love.

Pale Man from Pan's Labyrinth.

Cookie Monster.

This was me celebrating in Madison last year. The whole night was pretty boring, but, if I may brag for a minute, I think my costume was pretty awesome. I was a Sexy Hobo, duh. It was supposed to be a joke, but since then, I've seen a lot of people googling "sexy hobo" and how to make a sexy hobo costume. That's just embarrassing.

So, alls I'm saying is, let's get it together for Halloween this year, babies. Let's get some inspiration that doesn't come from Halloween Express and look totally busted up. I'm talkin' Autumn Witch and Wicked Innocence. Yuck:


Here's your bonus Halloween videos of my sister and I in Target and Walgreens, interacting with things.