When I was a kid, and we used to go to the Topanga Plaza Mall, I always hoped my parents might find it in their hearts to swing me by the Orange Julius.
You couldn’t miss the Orange Julius — over beyond the Cracker Barrel (or was it a Hickory Farm?), turn left at the Radio Shack, just before the Miller’s Outpost and there it was — the bright orange sign with the curvy type beckoning you.
It wasn’t quite a storefront, yet was more than a stand. In a glass case was a tower of oranges, just to show you that they actually made the drinks from fresh squeezed. I remember the building sense of anticipation as the line moved forward and we approached the counter.
Forget the sexy teenage girls in their impossibly high hats, knee-high boots and TWA stewardess-inspired one pieces. It was the drink I was after. An ambrosial blended concoction of orange juice, milk, vanilla and ice. Every straw-sucked slurp from the wax-coated paper tumbler was pure heaven, and when I reached the foamy ice-flecked bit at the bottom, I was thoroughly satisfied.
For awhile, there were still a few Orange Julius shops around, hold-out testaments to an earlier, more innocent time. I haven’t seen one in a long while and am not sure if they’ve gone the way of the dodo. But I figured the drink out. So that that one time when I said to my children, “Come closer, let me tell you the story of the Orange Julius…” and initiated them into the legend, and they replied, “Dad, will you take us?” I could ease the inevitable heartbreak with the words, “But I can make you one…”
I call it “Orange Julius-ish,” just in case there are any toupee’d 70s-era vintage copyright lawyers out there in the ethernet, waiting to pounce.
Enjoy!
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Orange Julius-ish
serves 2
1 cup orange juice
1 cup milk
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tbsp. sugar
6-8 ice cubes
Place ingredients in a blender. Blend on high. Pour into glasses, add straws and find sexy teenager in knee-high boots and tall hats to serve.
skinny girls & mayonnaise 