Today we’d like to introduce you to Collin and Shandy.
Hi Collin and Shandy, please kick things off for us with an introduction to yourself and your story.
HB Beverage Co. is a fiercely independent, fruit-forward juice and wellness bar serving cold-pressed juices, n’ice cream bowls, smoothies, and handcrafted, plant-based treats. Everything we make is dairy-free, gluten-free, and made from real ingredients—nothing powdered, frozen, or fake. It’s built to taste good, feel good, and move with you.
We started in 2015 as a scrappy food truck in Seattle with a wild idea: what if a juice bar could feel more like a neighborhood taco truck than a sterile health chain?We were inspired by paleta vendors, island fruit stands, and the vibe of shave ice trucks—not to copy culture, but to build something vibrant and welcoming in spirit, with a deep respect for where those traditions come from.
Shandy had spent years bartending in Seattle’s busiest nightclubs. I, Collin, was deep in design school—shifting from construction sales into something more creative. Together, we wanted a better way forward, together. Something cleaner. Brighter. Ours.
We started juicing, lost weight, felt better—and people noticed. We saw what it did for us—how it helped us reset, rebuild, reconnect. And we wanted to share that with everyone. First it was friends. Then yoga studios. Then full-on deliveries. Eventually we bought a decommissioned dairy truck and built our business one juice at a time, while I turned every design assignment into HB branding. That creative energy shaped our identity, our systems, and our ethos: connection over transaction, people over product.
I started on prep and dish duty and eventually took on the loose role of ‘Director of Vibe’—a kind of catch-all title that let me focus on the creative side. I’ve never been a natural in this industry, but I’m relentless when it comes to ideas. The test kitchen is my happy place. Dreaming up the NutBuster, the YamYam, the Unicorn Shake rework—that’s where I shine. I love inventing things that people haven’t seen before.
We opened our first storefront, grew into a million-dollar business, and built a real community. But in 2021, during the pandemic, our landlord gave us 30 days to vacate—no warning, no negotiation. We lost our lease, our team, everything.
In 2024, we started over in St. George, Utah. No staff. No buzz. Just the two of us. And on April 1st, 2025—four years to the day we lost everything—we closed on the building we now operate in. We carved our initials into the concrete. HB isn’t just a juice bar. It’s our story. Our fight. And it’s still being written.
We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
HB was thriving in Kirkland. We had a full team, momentum, and a deep connection with our community. When the pandemic hit, we adapted fast—switching to online ordering, mobile pickup, and a drive-up service. But despite our best efforts to stay open and serve safely, our landlord decided we were “doing business the wrong way” and gave us 30 days to vacate. Just like that. No discussion. During a global health crisis.
It felt like having the rug pulled out from under a dream we built by hand. Not just a business—but our daily rhythm, our team, our identity—gone in an instant.
We took time to process the loss. Then we got to work.
We came to St. George with no name, no staff, no buzz. We painted walls at midnight. Built fixtures from scratch. Ran to Home Depot more times than we can count. We worked the counter, did the dishes, and rebuilt the entire space ourselves. And on April 1st, 2025—four years to the day we lost our last shop—we closed on the building we now own.
We’ve had plenty of hard days. But nothing tested us like that loss—and nothing taught us more about who we are and what we’re made of. We didn’t just come back. We came back better.
Thanks – so what else should our readers know about your work and what you’re currently focused on?
HB isn’t built from a franchise model—it’s built from instinct and design. We didn’t follow a script. We created something that solved a real problem in our lives and in our community.
Back in Kirkland, we kept asking: how do we live in such an affluent place and there’s nowhere to get a clean, fruit-forward breakfast? It was all pastries and pancakes. Nothing light, fresh, or made-to-order. So we made it ourselves.
We still follow a food truck model—fast, fresh, no indoor seating, no pressure to stay. We want you to take your food out into the world. That’s not a workaround. That’s a feature. We love seeing our bowls on hikes, in cars, at the river—or back in our old PNW days, lakeside on boats, on docks, or spread across a picnic blanket. That’s the dream. This food was made to move.
Every detail is intentional. We design our systems for real life. We cold-press juice daily. We build bowls to order. And everything we serve is 100% plant-based—but not in a preachy way. We’re not trying to check boxes or chase trends—we’re just making good food—real food—for more people.
Visually, we lean more zine than zen—part punk mag, part boutique beach shack. It’s intentional. Food can be fun, creative, and a little weird—and still be high quality.
We’ve been through enough to know what matters. This isn’t a startup story. This is a couple who care more, give more, and show up every single day. No gimmicks. No ego. Just the good stuff—crafted by people who give a damn—and a business built to last.
The real impact doesn’t come from reviews—it comes from the stories people bring back to us. The moments that matter most? They’re often the quiet ones.
Like the kid who used to hate vegetables but now asks for our green juice. Or the adults who try it for the first time and are floored. Or the parents who tell us their kids eat fruit from our bowls—but nowhere else.
When we were next to the hospital in Kirkland, we became the go-to for new moms, post-op patients, chemo recovery, you name it. Our food became comfort food. And we took that responsibility seriously.
After we closed, people wrote us letters. Sent us texts. Told us we were missed. And when we reopened in St. George, they started showing up again—some from Washington, some from hours away. Just to experience HB again.
This isn’t just juice. These aren’t just bowls. This is nourishment people remember—and we’re honored to be part of it.
What does success mean to you?
Success to us isn’t a dollar amount or a certain number of stores. It’s not about going viral or building an empire.
Success is being able to do what we love—together—every day. It’s having full creative control, making something from scratch, and watching people show up for it again and again. It’s knowing we’ve built something real, something people count on, and something we’re proud to put our name on.
It looks like a green juice in a kid’s hand who used to hate vegetables. It looks like someone driving hours just to say they missed us. It looks like showing up tired, burnt out, beat down—but doing it anyway, because someone’s counting on you—and because it matters.
Success is owning the building, writing the menu, shaping every detail by hand. It’s waking up and knowing we get to make things better, even in small ways.
And maybe most of all, it’s the quiet belief that this thing we’re building—HB—might live longer than we do. That it might help more people than we’ll ever meet. That we’ve created something that reflects who we are and how we care.
Success, to us, is simple: It’s doing this our way, for as long as we can. And leaving behind something that mattered—something hand-built, heart-led, and impossible to replicate.
We didn’t inherit this. We didn’t franchise it. We forged it—from a milk truck on the street to a building with our initials in the concrete, from juice stains and callused hands, from scratched and stained menus and sleepless nights.
If HB lives on beyond us, if it becomes a part of someone’s day, someone’s story, someone’s healing—then that’s it. That’s the win. That’s success.
What advice would you give to someone thinking about starting their own business?
Start now. Stop planning it to death. Quit your job if you don’t love it. Go all in.
If you’re not willing to give everything to it—emotionally, physically, financially—then don’t bother. You’ve got to want it more than anyone else. You’ve got to be willing to go deeper than anyone else. And you’ve got to trust that doing it your way is the right way—even if no one else gets it yet.
Anyone can try to copy what you’re building. But if you go full-send, if it’s coming from something real—no one can do it like you. It’s scary. But betting on yourself always is.
Don’t wait for the perfect moment. Don’t try to game it all out. Some of the best things we’ve ever done came from saying yes before we were ready—and figuring it out mid-air.
Like Price Pritchett said:
“Planning and preparation is where dreams go to die.”
So move fast. Make it happen. Trust your gut.
And don’t do it for anyone but yourself.
Pricing:
- 7.00-15.50
Contact Info:
- Website: https://hbbev.co
- Instagram: https://instagram.com/hbbevco
- Facebook: https://facebook.com/hbbevco
- Youtube: https://youtube.com/@hbbevco
