Swami Juice — and coffee, tea, kombucha, apothecary, a studio, and a library. The sign is older than the shelves.
This is our living field guide: every botanical we stock in the store, the traditions behind it, and — where they exist — the human studies, graded honestly. Cold-pressed juice, tinctures, and herbal remedies all work the same way here: we tell you what's known, what's promising, and what's still just tradition talking. Everything below lives on our shelves in Davie — come taste, ask, and take home what calls to you.
Every entry below carries a grade for how good the evidence actually is — separate from how good the tradition is. The two are different questions and we answer them separately. A plant can be five thousand years old and barely studied, or barely known and well tested. Both are worth saying out loud.
No meaningful human trials. People have used it for a long time and that is the whole of the claim. We say so rather than dressing it up.
Some human data exists, but it is small, preliminary, or mostly animal work waiting on translation. A doorway, not a verdict.
Multiple human studies pointing the same way, with a real signal — and not yet settled. Most of a well-stocked apothecary lives here.
Replicated human evidence in decent numbers. Rare on a herb shelf, and worth noticing when it appears.
Three further labels appear where the simple four would misrepresent the evidence:
The grade differs by form. Research is usually run on a concentrated extract, and what you drink is not that — so the studied form and the sold form get graded separately rather than borrowing each other's credibility.
Good studies disagree. The field has not resolved it, and reporting the conflict is more useful than picking the flattering half.
Solid evidence pointing against the traditional claim. Rare, and the most important label on the shelf — it means we are telling you something that costs us a sale.
Grades split when the evidence does. Several entries read strong for the oil, tradition-only for the cup, or black tea well-studied, bergamot-in-the-cup tradition and pleasure. Research is usually run on a concentrated extract, and what you drink is not that. Where the studied form and the sold form come apart, the grade comes apart with it — because the alternative is borrowing credibility from a dose nobody in this shop is taking.
“Mixed” is a verdict, not a dodge. Some evidence genuinely conflicts, and the honest report is that the field has not resolved it. We would rather write mixed, genuinely and stubbornly mixed than pick the flattering half.
No citation goes up unverified. Every PMID on this page was checked against the published record before it was written down. A reference that cannot be confirmed does not appear, even when we are confident the study exists — which means some entries are honestly thinner than they could be.
None of this is good salesmanship. Telling you that the tea in your hand is not the extract in the trial costs us something. We do it because a shelf you can trust when it says strong is only possible if you can also trust it when it says we don't know.
Traditional & folk uses are descriptive only — they are not medical advice or claims to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA. If you are pregnant, nursing, taking medication (especially blood thinners), or managing a health condition, talk with your healthcare provider before use. Botanical illustrations & photographs via Wikimedia Commons — public-domain, CC0, CC-BY and CC-BY-SA works, including plates from Köhler's Medizinal-Pflanzen (1887), Blanco's Flora de Filipinas, Thomé's Flora von Deutschland, Curtis's Botanical Magazine and Flora Batava. Attribution-required images: honeybush (Graeme Pienaar, CC BY-SA), hemp hearts (MPart4, CC BY-SA), maca root (CC BY 2.0), sprouted pumpkin seeds (Leiden University Library, CC BY 4.0). Full source and licence for every image is listed at /image-credits.txt.
Juice bar and art studio in the same room. Pull up a stool at the wave-shaped bar — it curls like a barrel, because of course it does — watch a piece come together, or grab a brush yourself.
Paint nights for grown-ups, and the whole studio to yourselves — both book by reservation. Sip-and-paint means our sips: color-change lattes, kava, smoothies. No bar required.
The bar is the studio — same room, same counter. Any hour we’re open you can pull up a stool, pick up a brush and work on something. No booking, no seat fee, no minimum. Order a drink and stay a while.
Booked nights are coming. Paint nights and private buyouts run on reservation, and the reservation system isn’t up yet — it goes live in October. Until then, if you’ve got a group and a date in mind, tell me and I’ll make myself available for it.
When nights start, canvas size sets the seat price: Quick Dip 12×9 · ~90 min · $25 · Classic 16×12 · 2 hr · $35 · Big Canvas 20×16 · ~2.5 hr · $45 · The Masterpiece 24×18 · 3+ hr · $60. Every seat includes a drink.
Out front, a free book exchange — open to anyone, any hour, no card, no catch. Take what calls to you, leave what you've outgrown. Knowledge doesn't get gatekept around here.
Inside, a growing reference library — the stack we actually teach from. It fills up with every class, every donation, every weird good book someone carries in.


Paint, code, juice on the desk, store life in frame — streaming most days. Hosted right here first, then everywhere. Subscribe once and every episode finds you direct.
▶ Streaming soon
A wall in the back hallway that anyone is allowed to paint on. It has been filling up for years — hundreds of hands, every colour in the shop, floor to ceiling.
Hope. Freedom. Longevity. Unity. Opulence. Somebody wished for a baseball contract, in Spanish. Two different people, on two different days, wrote sonder — the word for realising that every stranger has a life as vivid and complicated as your own.
You don’t have to buy anything. You don’t have to book. You don’t have to be able to draw.
It doesn’t get painted over. The big canvases went up for exactly this — when one fills, it comes down and gets kept. Nothing anyone wished for here is thrown away.
I'm the cynical swami at the juice bar where the sidewalk ends. (I'm 50% sure I'm not a D&D character.) There's paint and canvas for anyone looking for a few distracted moments, and succulents if you'd like to take a little friend home with you. Other than that, the coffee and tea are hot, the juice and kombucha are cold, and if you want to talk health, history, or philosophy, the door's open.
“Just some guy.”
