POM Wonderful

Diana Krall Is Amazing and POM Wonderful Is . . . Well, Wonderful

Diana Krall is absolutely amazing. No surprise there. I have been a fan of hers for years, never having had the chance, minus one justifiably expensive concert she performed at Royce Hall at UCLA (I passed, to my everlasting regret) for some charitable event, to see her live. At her best, and that qualification is itself somewhat redundant because she is always excellent, Diana Krall makes you happy to be alive; amidst all the stress, anxiety, fear, tumult and speed of life, her beautiful voice - and equally exquisite skills as a pianist - evokes a sort of relaxed elegance. Call it bygone Hollywood glamor, or the American Century with a fine silk tie and a perfectly folded hankerchief. Whatever it is, and it is as real and as emotionally resonant as anything I can imagine, her voice is a gift; it makes you want to enjoy a great drink and simply toast the pleasures of undeniable talent. Well, I saw Diana Krall a few days ago at the Hollywood Bowl -- and she was incredible! I am in awe of her. I also brought two bottles of POM Wonderful Pomegranate Peach Passion White Tea. The evening was hot, the drinks cold. A perfect night. Thank you, Diana Krall. Cheers to POM Wonderful.

Put It on the Underhills' Account, or: Adventures in Great Design

Remember my post about great design, the one celebrating Paul Williams, the famed architect and beloved Angeleno? You don't?! Well, get some antioxidants to improve your memory. [Obligatory display of refreshing POM Wonderful Tea, followed by sparkling smile from yours truly -- ka-ching! "POM: It's freshness in your palm."] Well, Mr. Williams also designed the basement coffee shop at The Beverly Hills Hotel, where, should you enjoy sitting next to celebrities and kibbitizing about books and movies, you'll savor the best omelet imaginable. Cheers

Wheels, POM Tea and Gary Cooper's Diction

See that red "wheel," that seemingly plastic confectioner's curl, a shorn lock from some "A.I." meets "Willy Wonka" toy that fell by the wayside because of product liability lawsuits? Yeah, that wheel! Anyway, I am addicted to the stuff. After a long drive to one of the few stores in Los Angeles - on Melrose Avenue, to be exact - that sells these treats, an upscale wine, cigar, candy and gift basket seller, I bought 10 wheels for two dollars and - dear children, did you really believe I had forgotten about the power of subliminal advertising? - an ice cold bottle of POM Tea. "The usual, huh," the clerk said. "Yep," I replied, "Rituals."

Going to the Well with Welles

If you'll forgive the long prelude, I have a question and a statement . . . in fifteen parts, beginning with a series of enclosed mathematical charts and a sidebar about string theory. (Obligatory throat clearing and drink of POM Wonderful pomegranate juice, followed by tapping of microphone: "Testing. One, two, three. Testing.  . . . An alligator walks into a bar . . .") Orson Welles is a genius. What?! No, not the genius part. Did Christopher Walken just "quantum leap" into this post, making everything a non sequitur? Read on, and I'll explain.

I am a creature of rituals: I avoid sidewalk cracks, turn the knob on my bathroom faucet exactly sixty-degrees clockwise, cut my food in neat squares and, should the need arise, scream the word "Beetlejuice" three times - Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice - to banish the obnoxious bio-exorcist. (Actually, it's "Betelgeuse.") Which is to say, I must have some pistachios and a delicious beverage while watching a movie; it's a ritual.

With the rise of Netflix, my new obsession - "If living with obsession is a sin, then let me be guilty" - is powerful, indeed. Recently, I watched "Touch of Evil," starring Orson Welles, Charlton Heston and Janet Leigh. Tremendous. Amazing. Welles is incredible, and incredibly evil, in this film. He was a real bon vivant: directed and co-wrote "Citizen Kane" when he was 26, dated nearly every beautiful actress in Hollywood, had a cameo in "The Muppet Movie" and partied with Johnny Carson before a live studio audience. If you name his final film role - hint: it's an animated feature - I'll get you goodies from POM. Cheers

Sig Alert In My Driveway

True story. When my brother and I were kids, we could not have dinner without soda. (For purposes of personal privacy and complete avoidance of free advertising I will not cite specific product names, but if you ever happen to visit Atlanta, and some random marketer tells you to smile, you'll have a pretty good idea of the soft drink that caused a weekly dent in my mother's budget and left me with dentures at the ripe old age of eleven.) To repeat: we could not have dinner without a glass of soda; indeed, the cruel parents of friends would tell us, and thank goodness for the genetic lottery for having cast me (like Prince Charles) into the right family, that if we were their children our soda quota would be limited to one six-pack per week. Oh, the humanity.

Today, soda is a rare, rare indulgence -- provided the ingredients include cane sugar. Which is to say, life would have been much better if two things had existed, circa 1978: 1. anti-lock brakes for my Big Wheel and 2. cases of POM Wonderful Tea. Alas, both were mere dreams for some glorious future. Well, the future is now . . . and I LOVE this tea! Cheers

Great Design and the Soul

Consider this post part of an ongoing series about exceptional design. The best example of total excellence, the best example of a person who symbolizes an almost mythic union between personal class and professional style, is Paul Williams, the famed architect and beloved Angeleno. (I purposefully avoid designating Mr. Williams as "the late so-and-so" because, though he is no longer with us physically, his buildings - the commissions he won during a period when race was a handicap and beauty was, while important, perhaps even necessary, still not enough to overcome man's own limitations - surround us throughout Southern California.) The connection to POM Wonderful with Paul Williams is, while not a formal one or even something others may immediately draw, one I fully see. For great design evokes a search for mutual excellence. When I buy POM Wonderful Tea, or when I use any number of products (my Dupont lighter is another), I feel the spirit of great design. I see Paul Williams.

POM and Classic TV

When the definitive TV encyclopedia rolls off the presses - imagine a 15,000-page text embossed in gold and worthy of placement atop the mantle, a surefire conversation-starter: "Oh, that. Just something I ordered online; brain food, you know" - scholars will immediately turn to the index, under the letter "M," to find: "Magnum, P.I." pp. 153-167.

When I was a kid, I loved that show -- I still love it. Now I can enjoy the reruns in style: ice cold glass of POM Wonderful Tea to my left, TV remote to my right. Classic TV deserves a classic beverage. Aloha.

Greatness Defined, or: The Concert of My Life

If you believe in reincarnation then you will appreciate this post. In fact, you may be on your second (or third or fifth or twenty-eighth) life at this very moment, having gone from a feudal lord to an astronaut to a math teacher to an advertising executive in the course of many, many lives on this planet. I, on the other hand, may have been a jazz vocalist in a previous life, for I certainly lack any musical ability during this current stint on "Life: The Miniseries" (check local listings for broadcast times). But, just because I can't play an instrument or carry a tune - and why for that matter does society not do a better job of celebrating the arts? - I still savor the stylings of Mel Torme, one of the most incredible performers of American popular standards. Alas, I never saw the "Velvet Fog" perform live. I do, however, have a ritual that is an homage to this great man: I take a long drive through Benedict Canyon, drink some perfectly chilled POM Wonderful Tea . . . and absorb some amazing tunes. Mel, you're still the best. Cheers, from the folks at POM Wonderful. Drink up.

Great Design (and Designers), Part Two

In the spirit of great design, and in honor of the people who conceive these (POM) wonderful objects, I want to further highlight this issue. The Eames Lounge Chair (pictured at left) is an excellent example of form and function; it remains a praised source of the union between revolutionary design and superb comfort. That's exactly my sentiment about POM Wonderful's packaging -- iconic and practical, refreshing and fun.

I should point out that my admiration for the brand is just that: admiration. No one asked me to write this post, nor do I work from some prescribed list. On the contrary, I want to celebrate those products, designs, buildings, architects and artists who make a difference. Cheers

POM Tea Ad - Created by You!

Check out this ad created by one of our POM Tea drinkers. 
Let us -and more importantly Eric know what you think!

concept created by Eric Fantich - efantich@aol.com