To be honest, I wasn’t sure if it'd be worth setting foot in Thrive Juice Bar. My own eating prejudices did a good job of reminding me that a trendy and upscale place may not necessarily equate memorable, worthwhile food. More often than not, the food could be redundant and echo the meal options of so many of its counterparts today. It took a lot of guts to enter. If it wasn't the look of the space or the clientele within that made me feel undeserving, it certainly may have been the feeling that I wouldn't be satisfied with what was offered, and I don't like to offend. But hey, that's what menus are for, and since last week's good, almost serendipitous, food venture I figured I just may be able to make it a twofer. Or if anything, feel a little cleaner.
Thrive Juice Bar sets itself in the nitty-gritty of the Bauer lofts. And yes, I'm being ironic and misleading, though I can't see why not, especially in an area that was planned as an 'indoor market place' with a 'vibrant lifestyle of dynamic community.' But my job isn't to debate the semantics of cultural space, only the food that tries to match it and construct a fantasy lifestyle. Otherwise, Thrive Juice Bar is the perfect thing to deconstruct.
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Beyond its exterior's glass walls not only do we view a fantasy screen of what our dining experience could be, but how we have access to a kind of social elevation by merely buying clean, healthy shakes and the brand products that are placed on the place's shelves (in case you need a healthy colon) and flat screen television over the bar. Its straight lines, mute grays, sleek blacks and shiny trimmings do good to express its clinical influences, and from there communicate to customers just how sophisticated Thrive is, mimicking the restaurants I know exist in the world but can't afford. This is merely just one symptom of today's trendy food scene. Empowering that dynamic is the space's placement of green. The sign with a leaf dotting the 'i' of the place's name, the bamboo plants growing out of glass centre pieces- all come together to signify that if you come in, you can very well come out feeling clean. It's those kind of things that make a devout eater a little wary.
I sat myself down at the bar making note of the intrusively loud music that echoed throughout the lofty space and asked the 'cook' behind the glass separating us if they offered food, not just drinks. Luckily, they did. It was food for clean living, and though I may already be exhausting the idea in this review, it's not without due cause. With expensive blended drinks full of energy boosts and proteins I know nothing about, as well as wheat grass shots with orange chasers, you better believe there's going to be an array of vegetarian and vegan meal options for a particular charmed circle of eaters. No meat though. I can respect that. Meat’s dirty. I sensed that the notion of liking to eat any animal compromised a little self purity and came with a little danger. I myself was grabbing my collar when one of the servers asked me after my meal if I was a vegetarian or vegan.
Thrive's no place for the faint of wallet either, the reason probably being the ‘clean,’ ‘healthy’ food you're paying for. Either that or the clientele they expect to attract is in an area built for bigger wallets. I've said before that palettes influence the food we eat; well, the same goes for social class.
When it came to 'eating' at Thrive, my conjecture was that what you were seen eating was more important than what you were actually eating. Don't get me wrong, the food has merit, but I couldn't help but wonder if it suffered from the residue of Nouvelle Cuisine. Regardless, it's a smorgous board for the health conscious eater. Vegan soups, vegan hamburgers, big green smoothies (8.99), melon salads, Japanese beans, vegan pad thai. Any association with green and clean, they have it. Although, they do have something called a dirty rice bowl. A good attempt at badassery; however, in the end, clean and good for you.
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Mine would be a small meal, I knew right away. But maybe it could be salvaged by the healthy ingredients that were loaded with supplement powders. I started off with a kale Mojito. A Hemingwayian paradox in a place that, I'm sure, favours peace, good food and clean living; not fighting, fishing and- well, you know . . . What would Papa think' if he came here and asked for a Mojito made with kale? Either way, stuffed with fresh kale, lime juice and zest, as well as fresh mint and organic cane sugar and coconut water I was still interested in seeing if it had any life to it. I'd like to say it did. And even though it didn't have any unappealing kale flavour, I was kind of disappointed that it didn't taste a little original. I could taste the citrus, the mild mint, and a general sweetness expectedly given off by the sugar cane. No coconut though. In terms of having those general Mojito flavours, it hit the nail on the head. But again, I was expecting more. Setting my drink down and watching its ingredients separate into two homogenous parts I waited after I ordered an 8" oblong spelt pizza. I'll save you the suspense of its shape because I think the menu may have been referring to the size of the plate. Topped with sun dried tomatoes, artichokes, basil, arugula pesto and a mozzarella I've no urge to remember, the dish was a whopping 9.50. The spelt crust may have been a bad choice on my part. Resembling the dry, hollowed caverns of an unevenly baked flat bread it lacked that firm bitey that comes with the ideal pizza crust. And the attempt to drizzle olive oil over it did nothing to alleviate this flaw. Since there was no bread between the crust to absorb the oil and soften it, it just made the thing feel slippery and wet. Still, if there's anything to mention about the crust it's that it didn't lose its crisp constitution. The pesto was surprisingly bright, and the bitterness that is usually a big part of arugula absent, negated no doubt by the lemon in the sauce. This also worked against the pesto however, because in an attempt to hide any bitterness, the nuttiness that usually comes with arugula’s pungent bite was gone, and so was any nuttiness that came from the almonds used to make the sauce. To top it off, there was also an odd burnt underpinning to the pizza’s flavour, though I couldn't see any markings on the bottom of the crust. Maybe I was missing something. Ingredients were notorious for getting away from me, the cheese doing little to hold anything together. And though I can appreciate a little cheese on pizza- too much being a bad thing- too little can be just as bad, drying out and having a gluey texture doing nothing to lock any moisture in or keep ingredients on. I would have liked more cheese, and less oil if anything.
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Near 20 dollars later I was still hungry. I had a desire for the desserts the television offered me, but thought I better cut my losses. Thrive's heart is in the right place, its drinks offer a lot of options, and its menu a pu-pu platter for healthy eaters, there being a little bit of something for everyone- from Korean BBQ tofu to, Ruben sandwiches. So, don't let me deter you; if anything, let your wallet.
Thrive Juicebar
(519) 208-8808105-191 King St S
Waterloo, ON
N2J 1R1
Mon-Fri 9-6; Thurs-Fri 9-7; Sat 10-5
Any Payment
*Original publication 03/2011
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