Burrito skepticism unfounded
By Christy McKinnon
Published: Monday, November 17, 2003 USM Free Press

Michelle Deiulio takes the Seth Chute´s order at Herb´s Gully on Oak St. in Portland. Wandering through downtown Portland with the intention of finding dinner, Maria, Derek and I strolled down Oak St. (a small side street near L.L. Bean). While I was preoccupied peering through the window of a closed restaurant, Maria discovered one that was open. "This place looks cute," she said. Lured her way, I spotted a posted menu and investigated its contents. "Herb's Gully -- Mmm, a burrito joint," I thought unimpressed. Though uninspired by the prospect of another burrito place, the cheerfully painted walls spoke to my aesthetic senses, urging me to enter. "All right, let's try it," I said.

Though outside the evening was dreary and damp, and the roads were soggy with drizzle, the inside Herb's Gully was reminiscent of an exotic getaway vacation. The walls were painted vibrant fiesta colors -- yellow, orange, and red. Add a few thatched umbrellas and pina coladas and it could have easily been transformed into a faux island retreat.
However, Scott, the owner, was the misplaced variable, looking like he just arrived from the slopes of Vermont, his hair pulled back in an elastic and his bearded face smiling. Scott was helpful and willing to chat, offering suggestions and claiming everything was good. "We'll see about that," I thought turning to my menu.

Exploring the ample menu, which offered equally vegetarian and non-vegetarian friendly items, I was surprised to discover an alluring selection of smoothies made with ingredients to please the purist, like soymilk, honey and spirulina. Trying to decipher the relationship between a smoothie and burrito has kept me up nights. Quesadillas and tacos are offered at reasonable rates ($5.50 to $6.50, and more for extras). The menu was a source of amusement as I identified multiple marijuana references (guess I was right about the Vermont thing). The burrito section Scott named "Hand-Rolled Fatties," which included "The Burner" ($6.50), a bbq chicken burrito with blueberry salsa. and "Sweet Mary Jane"($6), a vegetarian burrito with garlic and basil flavored sweet potato as the main attraction. I opted for Scott's suggestion, the "Loco Pollo"($6.50), which swayed me with its feature ingredient, mango salsa.  

Derek and Maria ordered the taco salad ($6.25), which at first I thought was a bland and non-adventurous selection. When the food arrived, I was proven wrong.

Peering over at Maria and Derek's plate, I figuratively kicked myself chastising my choice which appeared much less interesting all wrapped up in its wheat flavored wrap than their large camping plate full of greens, chips, beans, tomatoes and other fresh ingredients. They were already completely absorbed in their feast, so I turned to my burrito.
Hoping for the best, I approached my somewhat clumsily wrapped burrito with skepticism. The first bite proved uneventful, all white rice and beans. "Ok, where's the mango salsa and sour cream?" Digging deeper into my burrito's depths, the next bite was like striking gold.

Juicy mango salsa, chicken, tomatoes, sour cream -- it was all there.

Overcoming my burrito skepticism, I joined Maria and Derek in their complete submersion into the meal, and we forwent any conversation. Huddled over our plates, we probably resembled savages gnawing on our freshly caught evening meal.

Halfway through our meals it was like an alarm sounded and we simultaneously slowed in our consumption settling back and picking at our plates. The size of the Gully burrito competed with the size of Granny's (huge), and I struggled unsuccessfully to finish off the last few bites, which wasn't such a loss as I approached the bottom, because it was drippy with bean juice and my hands were covered.

As Derek and Maria discovered the bottom of their salad plate, they suggested Scott invest in some kind of drainage system because their leafy greens were floating in a pool of watered down sour cream and bean juice. Yuck! Unperturbed they finished their meal.

Herb's Gully is a worthwhile venture for any burrito seeking individual. Its ingredients aren't as exotic as Federal Spice's, but each menu item successfully combines the traditional with a twist of the unexpected. Its atmosphere is energizing and comfortable, and Scott is an approachable guy. Next time I'm in the neighborhood, I'll make it a point to stop in and try a smoothie. Heck, I might go out of my way to try one.
Christy McKinnon can be contacted at freepress@usm.maine.edu

Pass the fattie
Herb's Gully stuffs and rolls East Coast burritos right
By Andy King - Portland Phoenix

It’s so hip these days, at least in my food-centric little world, to say the East Coast will never produce a true burrito. Those of us who have spent significant time on the West Coast always moan about " that burrito that I used to eat when I lived in Berkley, " or " those fish tacos off the Santa Cruz Boardwalk, the ones from that place that no one else knows about. " The burritos get bigger, and the prices get cheaper every time we describe them . . . I think my particular story went from a good-sized veggie burrito for $3.75 to a maxed-out behemoth as big as your head for two bits. Well, to those people, and I’m throwing myself in with the lot of them, I say: GET OVER IT.

Let’s face it. The Californian burrito, the ones made by the thousand daily in the Mission district in San Francisco, can’t exist over here. The produce is different, the number of first-generation Mexican-American family-run taquerias is almost nil, and quite honestly, there is little demand for it. " Why? " we West-Coast nostalgics ask, " Why? "
It’s because people like Scott Anderson, owner and chief wrapper at the five-month-old Herb’s Gully on Oak Street (in the old Hub space), know how to make an East Coast burrito. His creations represent the kind of culinary freedom that put California on the gustatory map, a whimsy unhitched from the more rigid rules of professional cooking. Before opening this restaurant, he had no previous culinary training, and, by his own admission, is led not by tradition, but by his taste buds.

" I just love to eat, " he smiles from his over-crowded flat top.

I feel kind of guilty because my large order has put him in the weeds for a few minutes. But the patrons wait patiently in the small, brightly painted dining area, and Scott shows no signs of stress. He is, after all, doing exactly what he always wanted to do: work for himself. After hiking the Appalachian Trail a while back, and finding that the freedom of being no one’s lackey appealed to him (he previously was a store manager), he did what a lot of ambitious future restaurant owners do. He slapped together a business plan and maxed out some credit cards while trying to open up fast. In two days, his girlfriend helped decorate and design the menu, and his friends lent their artwork for the walls. Scott, led by his own sense of what tastes good, designed the menu.

It turns out that Scott’s taste buds have a pretty good idea where to go. Herb’s Gully (the name’s complex and mysterious source revolves around, as I heard it, camping and the state of Ohio. You ask him.) offers three broad categories of eats: Hand-Rolled Fatties (Burritos), Quesadillas, and Side Cars (side dishes). There is also a significant and creative Smoothie selection, but I ran out of money before I could try the Kind Buzz, made with bee pollen, banana, honey, vanilla, soy milk, and almonds. But after trying three types of burritos and a quesadilla, I doubt I would have had much room for it anyway.

The stand-outs by far among those that we tried were the Burner (a burrito) and the Spinach Quesadilla. The burrito, filled with " smokin’ chipotle barbeque smothered chicken with blueberry salsa and green onion " had a bit of heat to it, thanks to the smoked jalapenos, and the fruitiness of the blueberries played a good spoiler to the spice. It was really like nothing I’d ever been presented with carrying the title " burrito, " and I was pleasantly shocked by the sweet-heat. The quesadilla, filled with still-crunchy-but-warm fresh spinach leaves, fresh tomato, and garlic, really let its last ingredient stand out. The garlic was by no means overpowering, but front and center in the flavor. It gave this dish an Italian feel, like it was an inverted thin-crust pizza.

Honorable mention goes to a burrito with, again, a typically Italian ingredient. The Sweet Mary Jane (with mashed sweet potatoes, roasted garlic, and fresh basil) carried with it the licorice-clove bite of the basil, and, although it subtly presented itself only after three or four chews, it still beat out the mashed sweet potatoes for most dominant flavor. The Thru Hiker (carne asada, black olives, and guacamole) was the closest I tried to your stereotypical burrito. It was good, but not great, and certainly not as individually defined as the other three.
The one thing to watch out for when eating these: They can get a bit sloppy and wet, so once you pick it up, try not to put it down. You might end up with a hot burrito salad.

But I had to appreciate, most of all, the little things that Herb’s Gully does right. The burritos are made by first warming the cheese-sprinkled tortilla on the flat top, allowing it to melt before the other ingredients are heaped on. Nothing is worse than biting into a foil-wrapped fattie and feeling cold shredded cheese sprinkle over your chin (I’m not naming names, but I’ve had those in this very town). The salsa is the fresh kind, with an almost watery consistency, not that over-cooked tomato sauce with peppers that you get in a jug. And finally, my favorite touch: You can buy all-natural dog cookies at the counter. In case everyone in the house gets the munchies.

Andy King can be reached at dinnerwithandy@yahoo.com