Roots on Tap is a quiet, unassuming spot in the developing Expo Park neighborhood.
Open since March, it’s somewhat Spartan, a narrow shop with a kaleidoscope logo and a pale green door in the still-scruffy line of storefronts along Parry Avenue, where most of the brick walls are painted black, beige, or grey. It’s unassuming, but bold in its way.
At first glance, there are the normal offerings in tall glass bottles: brilliant-hued juices and smoothies flush with greens and good fats (avocado, flax), sometimes silky with coconut milk, sold at the now-usual nouveau juice shop prices of $9 for 16 oz.
But then you look again and realize the Irish Carrot Bomb has carrot, coconut water, apple, banana, honey, but also cabbage, turnip, sea salt, spirulina. Most of the vegetable spectrum has become standard, but crucifers? Few venture there. I loved what I found when I did.
You think the Oat Fashioned, a smoothie with oats, apple, ginger, hemp, almond butter, almond milk, and dates might be an offense to the tastebuds with its cabbage, but not at all. Freshly made and still slightly warm (owner Nicole Allen hasn’t invested yet in a cold-press extractor; in this case, that’s an advantage), it was thick and comforting, tasting of oats and nut milk and apple, like a wonderful winter morning.
The Pinot Greengio juice was sweet with pear, peach, and orange; spinach’s mildness kept a potentially feisty backnote of broccoli in check.
Allen’s background is in corporate America; she started by selling smoothies and juices to her coworkers and took nutrition classes at Richland. She held a pop-up shop in Bishop Arts, at Boomers on Bishop, a shop that no longer exists, but was behind Whitehall Exchange. Now, at her first brick-and-mortar location, she’s attracted regulars from the loft above and other lofts nearby. Fair Park is a loyal neighborhood, she says, and there’s a contingency from Deep Ellum.
A few of the concoctions incorporate cold-brew coffee from Noble Coyote, an around-the-corner neighbor—this, an infusion of locality. Meanwhile, there’s excellent plain cashew or almond milk made to order.
Initially, the shop was always deserted when I visited—2pm on a Saturday, or a drizzling evening on the way home from work—part of the pattern of sporadic foot traffic that characterizes this part of town. The regulars that animate it—that bring back their glass bottles for refilling—seemed absent, or prismatic as rainbows. But more recently, I’ve been in when a couple perched atop the cushioned bench and sipped vibrant green and purple concoctions set in front of them at one of the shop’s three high bar tables.
It’s often a one-person show, and if you order something not already available on the shelves, be ready to wait. (If your heart is set on something specific, it’s a good idea to call ahead, as I did with the Oat Fashioned, which few people apparently order, though they should.) It’s not as popular as the run-away successes: the Pom Collins, with plum, carrot, apple, and grapes. The Kale Ale, with kale, spinach, mint, spirulina, apple, and orange, a version of which she debuted her pop-ups with and which still flies off the shelves.
The produce is either organic or local, and if local, from growers who use no pesticides or herbicides. Leafy greens are an easy find, locally, and she’s found blueberries out of Fort Worth, local strawberries; honey might come from Bonton Farms. Initially, scraps went into her own garden compost, but when she exceeded capacity, she stared offering them to anyone with a need: show up, and she’ll put you on the pick-up schedule.
During the summer, the kitchen had fun making spontaneous combinations like watermelon cayenne or a spinach spritzer with lots of green stuff and a lemon lift. Sometimes half the case seemed to be off-menu, elixirs made on a whim.
Hours: Mon-Sat 7am-7pm
