I’m switching it up today. Headed down to Bryant Park to see if the Jamba consumer demographics change depending on location.
Bryant Park is of course right across from the terrifying Condé Nast building, home of the skinniest, blondest and highest-heeled ladies on Earth. Would any of them dare show their expensively dewey faces in a Jamba Juice? The answer is no. No, they wouldn’t. At least not today. There are lots of tourists in this location. I discern several different languages being spoken. And even though I cannot understand what most of their speakers are saying, the body language betrays an unmistakable befuddlement: “Was ist die Coldbuster??” That notwithstanding, they are doing brisk business here. Brisk.
I try the steel-cut Blueberry/Blackberry oatmeal with the brown sugar crumble. It’s not bad, but again with the soy milk? Ah, it’s not bad though.
Good sized portion for the money. And more filling than you would expect. I didn’t feel hungry for the next several hours.
Have you got a Jamba story to tell? Please share them with us by posting a comment.