Smoothies, which are whipped-up conglomerations of fruit, juice, yogurt and ice, seem to be showing up everywhere. There's Planet Smoothie, Tropical Smoothie, Smoothie Island, Smoothie America, Smoothieville, Smoothie Central and Smoothie King. Wal-Mart sells a smoothie in a bottle. Even the U.S. House of Representatives' food court has a smoothie stand, one of Mr. Buckstaff's Frozen Fusions. If Mr. Buckstaff and the others are right, the smoothie is no fad, but rather a groundbreaking beverage as certain to last as Coca-Cola.
Proponents envision themselves endowing universities with their smoothie fortunes.
Well, America certainly seems to be mad about smoothies. One San Francisco seller, Jamba Juice, has grown to 250 outlets and has already snapped up a smaller player. Smoothie King Franchises Inc., based in Kenner, La., has 204 outlets in 20 states. But trendy foods don't necessarily make good candidates for fast-food chains. After all, millions of pounds of french fries are consumed every day, yet there aren't any big chains of french-fry stands.