LoLeo Juice Bar has two locations in Myrtle Beach. Photo by Hannah Strong Oskin/hannah.oskin@myhorrynews.com

LoLeo Juice Bar has two locations in Myrtle Beach. Photo by Hannah Strong Oskin/hannah.oskin@myhorrynews.com

Editor's note: Food writer Andre James gives a unique perspective on cuisine across the Myrtle Beach area. In his column, To Butterfly A Shrimp, James explores the menus of restaurants so you can learn just what to order during your visit.

If you allow it, Myrtle Beach can be a glutton’s pep rally, cheering you on with pom poms as you finish the last inch of a footlong hotdog, hide those buttermilk biscuits under a goopy blanket of sausage gravy or make that one last trek to the buffet because you noticed the kitchen staff just put out a fresh pan of bourbon chicken.

Indeed there are a few spots where you can get a kale smoothie and burritos stuffed with marinated tempeh, but that narrative is drowned out by fish bowls – literally, plastic fish bowls full of blue Hawaiian cocktails or hidden in the shadows of paper boats runneth over chili cheese fries.

Fortunately for you, I and our overall health, LoLeo – the first cold-press juice bar on the beach – disrupts that prevailing theme, where those blue Hawaiian fish bowls are replaced with organic Blue Majik Algae, a cousin of spirulina known for boosting energy levels, which you can add to your "Magic Mylk."

I’m aware that the average LoLeo loyalist would spill their chia seeds in haste trying to distance themselves from a Spam frying, chitterling-lover like me.

And on the flipside, I don’t associate myself with kombucha sippers or veganaise smearers – I think the air fryer is witchcraft, plant-based burgers are borderline demonic.

Not only is a carton of cashew milk more expensive than a gallon of 87 unleaded gas in my world, but it’s also as egregious as cauliflower buffalo wings.

I do love vegetables: Brussels sprouts, asparagus, Swiss chard, just as long as it’s sautéed in a liberal amount of duck fat or bacon grease. I love fruit, especially mango – a nice, ripe mango, but I like that mango, cantaloupe and pineapples especially when it’s doused with Chamoy and chili powder. It’s safe to say that I eat just enough “healthy stuff” to keep me “healthy.”

After my first trip to LoLeo, I had to Google exactly what “Bee Pollen Granules” and “Ashawangha” were. Amid shots of wheatgrass and lattes made with ceremonial matcha, whatever ceremonial matcha is. I found a soft, familiar place to land: avocado toast.

As much of a horrible eater as I am, even I know about avocado toast.

It’s the ideal entry point to eating healthy-ish – like the California roll is the gateway to chutoro sashimi and uni when it comes to sushi.

Most of the avocado-toast eaters I know pretty much all agree that a good inch-or-so slice of sourdough is the worthiest of all breads (yes, even more worthier than multi-grain and challah).

LoLeo checks the sourdough box, but after that, the combinations of ingredients are almost never ending, bespoke to the eater's whim, desires or tendencies.

My homie Carson likes his with feta cheese and hot honey, zeroing in on the sweet/salty combination that almost all of us drool over. Sam and Jack prefer Za’atar and slivers of pickled red onions and, along my journey, I’ve seen it decorated with alfalfa sprouts, dollops of crème fraîche, sprigs of dill, truffle oil and, of course, the quintessential sunny-side-up egg, which gives the sourdough bread the chance to be a sponge, soaking up the runny yolk.

Aesthetically speaking, I prefer my avocado sliced and fanned out over toast before I sprinkle that good, heavy-hand of furikake to satisfy my inner-Japanophile.

LoLeo’s avocados are gently mashed, still leaving the chunkiness because anything else would just be guacamole. It’s topped with red pepper flakes for some subtle heat, olive oil, fresh lemons juice-for acidity’s sake and Himalayan salt, which is not only cool because it’s pink, it has zero traces of microplastics, it’s loaded with mineral like potassium, calcium, magnesium and doesn’t have the anti-caking compounds that’s added to the standard, run-of-the-mill table salt.

The up-charge to add the smoked salmon is for sure worth the $4.

I’m not telling you to go out and buy a Peloton, sign up for hot pilates classes or rummage your pantry and refrigerator throwing away all the ham hocks and Twinkies. You can still eat popcorn shrimp like popcorn, devour chocolate covered bananas covered in sprinkles and all that greasy, not-good-for-you fairground-style food Myrtle Beach is notorious for.

But a slice of avocado toast never hurt anybody.

Reach Hannah Strong Oskin at 843-488-7242 or follow her on Twitter @HannahSOskin.

Your comment has been submitted.

There was a problem reporting this.

Keep it Clean. Please avoid obscene, vulgar, lewd, racist or sexually-oriented language. PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR CAPS LOCK. Don't Threaten. Threats of harming another person will not be tolerated. Be Truthful. Don't knowingly lie about anyone or anything. Be Nice. No racism, sexism or any sort of -ism that is degrading to another person. Be Proactive. Use the 'Report' link on each comment to let us know of abusive posts. Share with Us. We'd love to hear eyewitness accounts, the history behind an article.