The best burrito in Oregon

Oregon is renowned for many things: the soaring Cascade mountains whose glaciers feed our streams and rivers; lush forests hosting woodland creatures and mycological delights; the Columbia River Gorge and its impeccable waterfalls; the bookstores and bike lanes of Portland; the picturesque Pacific coastline, jagged with rock formations and pocketed by tide pools.

And Oregon is not bereft of culinary delights: its urban hubs host a staggering number of food carts per capita; there are 58 breweries in the city of Portland, 234 in the state; Willamette Valley pinot noir commands the respect (and checkbook) of many wine connoisseurs.

But there is one thing Oregon does not have: burritos.  Walk through any PDX neighborhood and it’s more likely that you’ll find a crème brûlée donut equipped with an eyedropper of triple sec (intended for injection immediately prior to ingestion) than a quality burrito served with passable guacamole.

Oregonians, search no more.  After an intense journey of personal discovery, I have found the best – perhaps the only – way to create and consume the perfect burrito in the Beaver State.  The recipe is more elaborate than most, but well worth the time and effort, and if you survive its creation you will doubtless return for second and third helpings.

Ingredients

Four months of trail ultrarunning training, the taste of defeat from the Peterson Ridge Rumble 40-miler, excitement at the prospect of a rematch, soaring temperatures and full sun forecast in Terrebonne, perfect race organization for the Smith Rock Ascent 50k by GoBeyond Racing, supportive friends and loved ones on the course, a huge chunk of the amazing Portland trail running family participating in the race, a finish area catered by Longboard Louie’s with their famous build-your-own burritos.

Method

1. On Friday evening, drive to the Smith Rock bivy and park illegally on the grass knowing you’ll be able to sneak into a legal spot before they give out tickets when some climbers undertake an alpine start the next morning.  Set up camp, have a beer, and pray that you sleep well, but don’t worry too much if your fiancée’s sleeping pad deflates unexpectedly and a search and rescue operation keeps you awake from 11pm-1am.  (Be thankful that said S&R activity is successful.)
2. Wake up at 5am full of anticipation.  Do not confuse your anticipation with fear.  It’s definitely not fear, right?  Fire up the camp stove to make a moka pot of coffee and a big helping of oatmeal.  Pack the car, get changed, fill your handheld water bottle, and head to the starting line.
3. Engage in a number of stimulating conversations while waiting in the porta-potty line.  Collect your bib number and attach it to your singlet.  Wonder if your outfit clashes too much but decide that it looks awesome.  Do some light dynamic stretching and try not to look anxious.  Stare in awe at the main Smith Rock formation.
4. On cue, take off down the southern embankment of the Crooked River, over the footbridge, and then west along the northern bank trail.  Settle into a quick-but-comfortable rhythm just off of Jacob Phillips’s left shoulder.  Strike up a conversation with Rick Stilson who is just behind you.  Wonder who that guy in the green shirt who is not quite keeping pace is, writing him off as someone who will get caught in no-man’s land and struggle through the rest of the race in solitude.
5. Observe as the first climb strings out the clique of frontrunners.  Assume second position but notice that Rick is catching up as you near the summit and a commanding view of South Sister and the rest of the Oregon Cascade range.
6. Wonder at Jacob’s audacity as he blitzes the first aid station and opens up a not-insignificant gap as you refill your water bottle.
7. Downhill.  Sweet, merciful, quad-pounding downhill.  Revel in your gravity-powered fluid speed.  Let your feet dance across the tops of rocks.  Feel utterly confident that you are relaxed and this blistering pace (5:51 for the 11th mile!) will not affect your climbing ability later.  Reel in Jacob and take the lead, but notice that Jacob sticks to your shoulder, not letting you slip alone into the central Oregon desert.
8. Hit aid station 2 at the bottom of Cole Loop Trail.  Down a salt pill and a glass of water.  Accidentally drink coke out of the glass Jacob started sipping from.  Refill your water bottle and watch Jacob speed out and up a hill as your screw the lid on.  Think “patience.”  Decide not to chase.  Decide to let the hill dictate your pace until your climbing legs come back.  Mentally curse the horses that have trampled the trail into loose sand that gives away with each step.
9. Notice that Rick is gaining on you.  Exchange pleasantries as he passes you on the uphill, and shortly thereafter feel comforted that he too is hiking the wickedly steep section around mile 15.5.  He is not far ahead when you crest the hill and you quickly re-pass him.
10. Another long downhill.  Gravity courses through your legs again and you start to feel better.  You’re in second, and Jacob is slowly but surely coming back.  And the smell!  It smells incredible.  The warm sun is heating the scrub brush and juniper bushes and the air is redolent with their odor.  It’s like you’re running through the steam wafting off a cup of rooibos tea.  Between the gravity and the smell your senses are overloaded by how wonderful this place is.
11. But then a distraction.  What’s that noise over your shoulder?  Is Rick making a comeback?  He’s found his downhill legs is making a move?  No!  It’s not Rick at all.  It’s green shirt from the first mile!  (Aka Rob Russell.)  Where did he come from?!  He’s moving fast and your legs have no response as he charges past on your left.  You try to defuse the situation with a joke:  “Uh-oh.  Here comes the guy with the race plan!” you holler.  This sounds stupid as you say it, but Rob is nice enough to chuckle.  This is, apparently, a race.
12. Round a corner and hallucinate the vision of aid station 3, stocked with water, gels, electrolyte pills, and other goodies.  Hallucinate that Jacob is still at the aid station, slowly gathering his things.  Hallucinate that your fiancée, Sarah, has driven your Mazda3 over treacherous high-clearance roads to greet you at this aid station and offer encouragement and cantaloupe.  (You would never accept this hallucinatory cantaloupe as there is no crewing at this race and you don’t want to be disqualified.)  Realize that this is not a hallucination.  This is real and you are now tied for second.  Declare that you are tired, this is hard, and you would like to take a nap as you down another salt pill, collect two gels, refill your bottle, down a glass of coke and a glass of water, kiss Sarah (who pretends to not mind the sweat), and take off down the trail.
13. Jacob follows and you are running together now, chatting a bit with him on your shoulder.  Suddenly, an eruption of sound from the left of the trail.  A dark, hulking mass shifts its weight.  A dinosaur.  No, Sasquatch!  Neither.  Cattle.  A herd of loud, disgruntled cattle.
14. Doubt creeps in as you ask yourself a simple question:  Where are the orange cones and streamers?  There have been so many thus far, constantly reminding you that you are on course.  You look down at your watch and note that you are 22.4 miles into the race.  You ask Jacob if he’s seen any course markings.  He hasn’t for a while.  If you don’t see a marker by 22.9, you’ll start to worry.  23.  23.1.  Where are the markers?!  Did you miss a turn off?  If you turn around now you’ll either get caught by Rick and know (more or less) that you’re on course, or you’ll find the turn off, or you’ll bumble by the turn off again and end up back at the aid station asking idiotic questions.  Faith.  Hold on.  23.3.  A marker!  An orange streamer on a pine tree that looks absolutely beautiful.
15. You follow a few more cones and burst into Skull Hollow campground.  A green-shirted figure flits through a gate and up the trail.  Up the trail.  Uphill.  Again.  You try to find your rhythm.  Mercifully, this is an easier climb.  Maybe 5 or 7% grade on groomed trails that you should charge up.  But the best you can do is hold yourself together.  10-minute pace does not feel proud, but it will have to do.  Jacob has disappeared, and quickly.  Rob appears behind you, moving quite well.  As he passes, he tells you not to worry, you’ll get him on the downhill.  “We’ll see,” you say.
16. When you crest the hill you gain a ridge that you’ll follow to aid station 4 (née 1).  South Sister greets you again and you have an unobstructed view of the course ahead.  Rob must have two minutes on you, while Rick appears to be gaining steadily, eating into the hefty buffer Rob has built.  This looks like a good show!  Maybe they’ll have popcorn at the final aid station and you can watch this duel from the best seat in the house!
17. Your cadence is back up as you reach the final aid station.  One of the volunteers knows exactly what you need (a gel, electrolytes, more water) and scurries to help out.  You are five miles from the finish and a glance at your watch reveals that a sub-4 hour time is still in reach.  That’s the goal now.  You are tired and your head is swimming but if you hold it together on the Burma Road descent and put in some solid miles, you can break four hours, your tentative time goal for the race.  And is that Rick catching Rob up ahead?  What a finish they’re going to have!
18. But then all of a sudden Rick is coming back, and coming back fast.  Just a mile from the finish, as you hop from Burma Road to Wolf Trail on one of the few techy parts of the course, Rick stops suddenly and howls in pain.  You flow by, momentum too much to divert at this point.  You holler back to ask if he is all right and he grimaces a “Yeah” in return.  You are worried he has twisted an ankle, but Rick is in fact struggling with severe calf cramps.
19. You are in the trees along the river and Rob’s green shirt is not in sight.  A flat mile remains ahead followed by the short, brutal 200 foot climb to the finish line.  The Smith Rock formation looms to your right, a perfect backdrop for photos.  Speak of the devil!  You pass the photographer, Paul Nelson, who claims you’ll catch the leader.  This does not compute as a meaningful statement.  What, possibly, could that mean?  Will you look perplexed in your race photos?
20. Crossing the footbridge you spot Rob’s green shirt amongst the 15-mile racers who are finishing on the same stretch.  While you can get closer to him, it never feels like you’re in the hunt for first.  On the final climb you pass your colleagues Jim and Jamie who are dabbling in trail racing for the first time, running gamely towards the finish of an hours-long battle with Gray Butte.  You crest the hill, turn right, and feel a wave of satisfaction, followed by a wave of heat exhaustion, spill over you as you cross the finish line.  Rob congratulates your strong finish; you were only 21 seconds behind him.  Sarah grabs your finisher’s pint glass and asks what you need.  Ice.  You need ice.  And water.  And a nap.
21. Cheer as Rick crosses the finish line just 31 seconds behind you, making the top-three spread a mere 52 seconds – a photo finish in the ultrarunning world.
22. Bumble around the finish area in a stupor, cheering for Jamie and then Jim as they cross the finish line.  Congratulate your colleague Alison who was first woman in the 15-miler.  Congratulate Sarah because she was second woman in the 4-mile race.  Cheer for Jacob as he finishes within eight minutes of the winning time.  Cheer for Joelle Vaught as she crushes the women’s course record, spending a scant 4:16:05 on the trails.
23. Work up your courage and approach the burrito table.  Timorously lift a flour tortilla, scoops of rice and beans, a handful of spinach, guac, and a healthy portion of Pacific salmon onto your plate.  Consume over the next hour in between sips of Lucky Lab Superdog IPA while trading stories with your compatriots and soaking in the post-race vibe.

And that’s it!  You’ve just created and consumed the best burrito in Oregon.  Bon appétit, and may all your culinary adventures be just as expansive, lengthy, and delicious!

Addendum:  If the above recipe is somewhat lacking in detail, interested parties can find more information at the following links:

• Full results
• GPS track
• Race ‘replay’ via Strava flyby

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Rick, Rob, and me, post-burritos.

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The sun sets on this epicurean escapade.