Jobot Coffee will be moving once again, but this time into ASU’s Taylor Place Starbucks.
Jobot Coffee and Diner announced another big move this morning after spending its last few months inside Roosevelt Point, an apartment complex on Third and Roosevelt streets.
The trendy local favorite has cut a deal with Starbucks and ASU to make its new home inside the Taylor Place dorm building on Second and Taylor streets.
A post on Jobot’s Facebook page this morning read as follows:
Hi loyal customers,
We have loved the last few months perfecting our extensive coffee, food and cocktail menu, but felt stifled without corporate backing. We also felt it was time to rid ourselves of the grittiness of the Roosevelt arts district, and move closer to the more streamlined, sophisticated, government-funded, capitalist culture of ASU—especially after most of our staff had their hair dyed back to its natural color at the salon next door. As a result, we have accepted a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to merge with the ASU-affiliated Starbucks inside the downtown student dorms.
Jobot Coffee will henceforth be referred to as “Jo-Bucks,” and will serve businesspeople and students only. All others seeking coffee will be diverted to Fillmore Coffee Co., which is housed inside the Skyline Loft apartments.
ASU students living in Taylor Place seemed pleased to hear that the coffee shop would soon be within a more comfortable radius.
“I’m so glad we get a chance to support local while buying Starbucks!” said Dailee Grind, a freshman and gold card member with the global chain.
“Can’t wait for the Jobo-cinno,” said Moka Chino, a sophomore who is captain of his intramural football team. “I heard it tastes just like a crepe, but in blended form!”
Others, including local muralist Sky Blue, were disgruntled by the coffee shop’s announcement.
“It seems very exclusionary,” Blue said, adding that she had been a regular at Jobot for years; first at its original Fifth Street location, and then at its space inside Roosevelt Point. “Since I’m an artist and not a businessperson, I can’t go to Jobot anymore. But I’ll do anything for a crepe, so I’ve begun applying to more mainstream jobs, and I’ve got a great interview set up tomorrow with the Alliance Residential housing developer.”
Phoenix Diablo learned later from an inside source at Jobot that they will, in fact, no longer be serving crepes. The only way customers will be able to satisfy their nostalgia is with the crepe-flavored Jobo-cinno.
Being a vendor at the Phoenix Public Market began as a hobby, Chuckles said, but it had such booming success within the first year that he was able to turn it into a career. (JD Chessel/Diablo)
Among the rows of fresh produce at your local farmer’s market stands Charlie Chuckles with his face hidden under makeup and an elaborate patterned costume of frills at his table. The table is full of colorful, not to mention locally grown, cotton candy.
Chuckles began C. C. Candy with his wife, Carly Chuckles, while the two were finishing at University of Arizona College of Clowning. Being a vendor at the Phoenix Public Market began as a hobby, Chuckles said, but it had such booming success within the first year that he was able to turn it into a career.
“My wife and I were both majoring in clown culture,” said Charlie. “After meeting each other in an agriculture class, we came up with the idea for what would become C. C. Candy. We were both naturally curious about locally grown cotton candy and candy corn that we wanted to try it ourselves. It didn’t take long for us to fall in love with the craft.”
C. C. Candy is best known for its organic, gluten-free cotton candy. The Chuckles live on their farm where they grow the cotton candy as well as candy corn and lollipops. They explained the process is similar to that of growing fruits and vegetables, but “more fun.”
“One day, it’s just a small stalk and the next morning the sugar has woven itself into this yummy, dissolvable fluff,” said Carlie. “It’s white when it’s grown, and we add organic food coloring to make it bright and colorful.”
Farm-to-table practices are what makes C.C. Candy stand out among local produce purveyors. The business is a fixture at Phoenix Public Market and is looking to expand into places like Whole Foods and Sprouts.
Following in her parents footsteps is eight-year-old CiCi. With flowers up her sleeves and a card deck in hand, she performs simple magic tricks that ends up attracting customers of all kinds. Her giggle can be heard from across the square, luring everyone to watch her perform and sample fresh candy corn.
“CiCi is a natural entertainer,” said Charlie. “We didn’t even force her to come along to the market with us. Since before she could talk, she was interested in gardening and practicing her tricks.”
Not even CiCi could save the family from the sudden drop in sales. In light of the recent clown scares across the country, people have been reluctant to approach C. C. Candy.
“I’m not going to change who I am,” said Charlie. “I’m proud to be a clown, and I want to show my daughter that she should be proud to be a clown as well. People are too quick to judge one another. Our loyal customers are the only ones who seem convinced that we don’t haunt the streets at night.”
The hard times aren’t going to cause this clown family to stop doing what they love. They can be found at the Phoenix Public Market every Saturday morning selling local favorites and bringing new products this winter.
“We’ll be introducing lemon drops,” said Charlie. “We just got our hands on some seeds, and now is the best season to start growing. They’ve been a family favorite for generations, and I’m looking forward to sharing them with the community.”
No question has haunted my career more than that one.
Hi. I’m Ahmnam Nahmnom, professional after-death dining critic. Just as troubled human souls live on here on Earth, so do those of restaurants whose lives ended in a bit of a dramatic flavor.
In the living world, I was an aspiring dining critic when I died, tragically, while I was out doing what I loved—eating and reviewing a new restaurant. The end came when a piece of (undercooked and underseasoned, with no real flavor profile to speak of) chicken breast lodged in my throat.
I was devastated that my career—and my life—was cut short. You can only imagine my delight when I saw my first spectral eatery. Sure, Scratch French Café was a little more see-through than I remembered, the pastries even lighter. But it was all there. I knew I could fight on for my dream job in the afterlife!
Surprised by all this? Yeah, bet you never thought to ask spirits about the after-death dining scene. It’s fine — no, really. Just keep it up with the “What’s your name?” and “How’d you die?” questions on your little Ouija board.
No, I’m not bitter. Why would you say that? Ugh. Let’s just get on with it.
Bonjour Vietnam
Think that icy, goosebumps-inducing chill you feel whenever you accidentally pass too close to a ghost is rough? Try feeling that cold inside all the time. Hands down the worst part of being a tormented soul doomed to walk the earth. That’s why I was so giddy to see the astral lights inside Bonjour Vietnam start flickering on our side of the void.
With all flavors more dull in the afterlife, Pho is great way to warm up and still taste some spice. A large Dead Biet ($10) pho, full of sliced ghost steak, tripe, tendons and other beefy bites is a standout. Orders of the Cackling Chien Don ($9.5), tempura soft shell spiders, and Cackling Thuz ($9.5), shrieking tuna, spring rolls will freshen up your meal.
Bonjour Vietnam was orderly but warm in life, and it’s become even starker in death. Ghosts can’t perceive the passage of time, but sitting at the bar certainly makes it feel like I’m in a modern time (maybe).
The COD? The restaurant owed nearly $5,000 in rent and passed on, quickly filled in by a second location of its sister restaurant Rice Paper. Ah, I know what it’s like to be so easily replaced, ol’ B.V.
Squash Blossom
This restaurant was a tortured soul while it was alive. Squash Blossom rebranded and promoted like a fame-hungry 20-something looking for their big break. Since the end finally came for Squash Blossom, it’s become a gentler soul in death.
Yes, ghosts do brunch. We’ve already established that ghosts eat. Anyone that goes out to eat can’t resist going out to brunch. And when we do, Squash Blossom’s $10 Spookday brunch buffet is a great deal (for your information, after-death unemployment is on the rise at 8.9 percent). On any other day of the week, I’d recommend the jack-o’-lantern pancakes ($6). Fall is equally trendy among spirits.
The Local
The good do die young. The Local had only opened its doors for six months before drawing its final, wizened breath. You’re a bunch of monsters for letting this place go, but I’m not complaining. Finally, a place where ghosts can put on their heels and bow ties. (Yes, ghosts in bow ties look as adorable as you’d think they would. No, you can’t see. You’re not dead.)
After all, isn’t it much more appropriate that a spirit dine on a Roasted Jangling Bone layered with bacon and onion toe jam ($15)? While not as spooky, the Crispy Pig Ear Pad Thai ($9) is a wonderful collision of different cultural flavors. I’d enjoy either with a signature Lambert-Gini ($9), featuring fresh blood, tears and rosemary. Spirits do love spirits.
Despite pressure from the Super Bowl host committee about the fact that there are only 12 residents remaining, Phoenix officials insist on keeping Super Bowl activities in downtown Phoenix. (Francis Hallo/PD)
The apocalypse that recently shook much of downtown Phoenix and the world is not expected to affect Super Bowl festivities, city officials said Friday.
Phoenix Mayor Greg Stanton said he is used to people regarding downtown Phoenix as “boring,” but the apocalypse could even be seen as part of downtown Phoenix’s revitalization efforts.
“We’re currently in the middle of revitalizing downtown, but as we’ve seen before, big events like pre-Super Bowl festivities draw people from outside downtown Phoenix to the area,” Stanton said. “We’re confident that this massive swath of destruction won’t impede on either the revitalization efforts or the Super Bowl festivities.”
Not everyone was as optimistic about the situation as Stanton. Several members of the Super Bowl’s host committee visited downtown Phoenix on Thursday to scout facilities and further plan the festivities, committee member John Smith said. He said he was outraged that the city failed to inform the committee of the apocalypse’s utter ruination of the city.
“If we had known that downtown Phoenix had become more of a desert wasteland, we never, ever would have scheduled the pre-game events here,” Smith said. “We would’ve gone somewhere more vibrant. Like Mesa.”
A major issue with the apocalypse is that there will be no one to operate the venues where the festivities would take place, Smith said, and out-of-state visitors may be turned off by the complete lack of human life in the area. Stanton dismissed the notion.
“We’ve heard this before, that there’s no nightlife in downtown Phoenix, that there’s nothing to do,” Stanton said. “It simply isn’t true. Downtown is a bustling urban core, and it’s ridiculous to think something as insignificant as the complete and utter destruction of the city’s infrastructure would change that.”
City Councilwoman Kate Gallego said keeping the Super Bowl festivities in downtown Phoenix would bring an economic boost to the area and be an exciting experience for the residents as well. According to disaster-relief numbers, downtown Phoenix currently has 12 surviving residents.
“I can’t think of a better way to show visitors to Phoenix the spirit of the urban core than by hosting the Super Bowl parties here,” Gallego said. “I don’t think this widespread annihilation of everything we know and love will affect it at all. If anything, it gives us an opportunity to show visitors how vibrant downtown Phoenix truly is.”
Despite the mayor and councilwoman’s optimism, city records indicate reservations at city-owned facilities, such as the Phoenix Convention Center and the Sheraton Phoenix Downtown Hotel, have taken a nosedive, with less than 2 percent of each venue scheduled to be occupied during the Super Bowl.
Former downtown Phoenix resident Scott Johnson, who relocated to Mesa prior to the apocalypse, said it would be better for the Super Bowl festivities to take place in another city.
“This is the city once again not giving the downtown community, dead or alive, a voice,” Johnson said. “You know things are bad when the Super Bowl host committee wants to host events in Mesa, of all places.”
Food trucks such as Short Leash Hot Dogs are considering expanding to alternative vehicle options such as the yacht shown in this rendering. Other ideas include motorcycles and blimps. (Courtesy of Short Leash Hot Dogs)
Food truck owners across downtown Phoenix collectively announced Tuesday that they were planning to “look into other motor vehicle options” to create mobile sites for selling food.
“As it turned out, we had all been thinking about expanding the market,” said Valeria Hernandez, owner of Flan-tastic, a food truck that offers flan, fried ice cream and other Mexican desserts. “When we got together and talked about it, it was like, bam. This is it. Trucks are just going out of style.”
Hernandez is hoping to leave her food truck behind, opting instead for a motorcycle. This would allow her better mobility, she said, and a greater variety of places to offer food.
The motorcycle would have a rack on the back to carry cooking supplies and extended saddlebags to hold miniaturized kitchen appliances, such as a stove, small oven and cooler/freezer unit.
“When I hear the word ‘flan,’ I don’t think trucks,” Hernandez said. “I don’t think restaurants. I think something that really makes an entrance. The only right answer is a motorcycle.”
Pietre Levy, owner of the new truck Blintz Blitz, said he plans to “scrap the truck” and move on to “bigger and better” options. Blintz Blitz, which serves Russian blintzes — thin pancakes with a filling such as cheese or berries — came onto the food truck scene in November and quickly became popular at events such as Food Truck Fridays.
Levy hopes to keep with the concept of food trucks, though he’s thinking big wheels and bright colors — his dream is to convert Blintz Blitz into a monster truck.
“It was really important to me to continue the tradition of food trucks as trucks,” Levy said. “You know, blintzes are a traditional food, I want to be a traditional guy. But just like I want to throw a creative twist on my blintzes, I want to put a creative twist on my truck, too.”
He is still unsure how he will serve food from the truck, though ladders and stepping stools are definitely options, Levy said.
Other food truck owners want to think much further outside the box. Gordon Abernathy operates the truck Just Haggis, which serves pudding made from sheep heart, liver and lungs that is served in the sheep’s stomach. Abernathy has already begun saving money and taking out loans to buy a blimp, which he intends to float over different areas of downtown Phoenix.
Abernathy will serve food by lowering it in baskets from the cabin of the blimp, he said. He hopes to take customers’ orders by cellphone call from a Just Haggis employee stationed on the ground below the blimp.
“For me, it’s not about the novelty,” Abernathy said. “I’ve wanted to own a blimp ever since I was a boy. I wanted to make haggis ever since I was a boy. This has been in the works for decades.”
The downtown Phoenix community is generally excited about the prospect of new vehicles to provide them food. Marie Louise Alberta May IV, who is a devoted regular at Food Truck Fridays, said the food-truck expansion is a sign of better things to come.
“When you think about it, Phoenix is just a really creative place,” May said. “This is just the beginning of what we can do. You know, I’m thinking, why stick to food? I might just create my own mobile home devoted entirely to crocheting classes. Or knitting. Or understanding and interpreting Voodoo culture. You know, whatever.”
Other community members, however, are skeptical about the expansion. Marmon Sedgwick, who journals regularly about his food truck experiences, said the idea was “totally dumb” and could never come to fruition.
“Food trucks have a charm about them,” Sedgwick said. “You see a truck and you smell the food and you think, ‘I just belong here.’ I don’t look at a blimp and think that. I don’t look at a yacht and think that. Food trucks put you right in the middle of the action.”
Sedgwick also said that as a longtime fan of Just Haggis, he was unsure how the sheep stomachs would stay fresh in the period of time between leaving the blimp cabin and making it to the ground. Additionally, Sedgwick felt a concerted fear that the Just Haggis blimp may run into one of the downtown buildings, rip apart and fall to the ground in a flaming mass — “just like the Hindenburg,” he said sadly.
Phoenix Mayor Greg Stanton has also expressed a desire to bring the city into the food-vehicle game, citing ideas such as a light rail line that is devoted entirely to mobile restaurants. He was most excited, however, at the prospect of creating a food gondola lift, which would consist of cable cars containing restaurants and riding suspended on cables around the city.
“This is a great opportunity for the kind of economic innovation Phoenix is looking for, especially in terms of transportation,” Stanton said. “We are a city full of creators and innovators, and this just goes to show that. With ideas like a food hot air balloon or a food horse-and-buggy sprouting up all over the city — the possibilities are endless.”
Red Heart Cauldron Brewing Company offers up the right brews at the right price. (Ahmnam Nahmnom/PD)
When you walk in, Red Heart appears to be just another cauldron brewery. To the left you have some hand-crafted brooms for comfortable seating. The walls are adorned with bottled souls of past customers and eerie portraits of the owners. Members of the Witch High Society, also known as Alpha Beta Witch Witch, are often found sitting near the window. To the right hang two cauldrons made by local artisans. The first cauldron contains the daily special, while the second contains yesterday’s daily special.
In addition to the cauldron specials, customers have the option to order off the always expanding menu. I ordered the “Hearty Half Caff, Half Calf” ($4.99 + two toes) which was equal parts calf heart and decaffeinated barista soul stirred and heated to 1000 F. I prefer my drinks shaken, not stirred, but for Red Heart I was willing to make an exception. Overall, the smoothness of the drink complimented the warmness felt in what used to be my toes.
My good friend, Claire Voiant, enjoyed a chilled non-fat soy latte ($3.99 + three black cats). She said it was nice but could have used a bit more soy. She even let me try it. And to be honest, it wasn’t that great. Neither is she, now that I mention it. Why did I bring her?
The service was quite phenomenal. Young witches and warlocks, but mostly witches, flew around the sitting area. While your soul may be empty, your cup will always be full to the brim.
Red Heart first popped up on my radar and caught the attention of the community in early September after a photo was posted to their MageBook page with the caption reading “Spending the day flying around with friends at Red Heart!”
The photo showed two presumably soulless customers slumped on their broomsticks with the owner propped up on his broom flashing a thumbs up. Some community members saw this as a sign of disrespect and were up in arms for a couple days. But the rage quickly dissipated after the individuals realized they had more important things to worry about.
What makes Red Heart unique is the faint chill that runs down your spine every time you walk through the door. Embrace this feeling, because it only enhances the bitter taste in the back of your mouth as you swallow your hot expresso.
Red Heart Cauldron does not just sell coffee. They sell a livelihood. Frequent Red Heart customers should consider buying a Witch Pass ($0.00 + first born son and/or daughter) to zoom to the front of the line. Members will also be invited to the city of Phoenix’s annual Witch Hunt, a celebration of witch culture and heritage hosted by Sheriff Joe Arpaio. Guaranteed fun for the whole family.
After your quick coffee break, consider stopping at Circle K for lunch. There could soon be one on every corner.
