Food review: This Californian ate five Valdez burritos in 72 hours – on purpose

From the editor: Over the summer, I hosted Matt Drange, an old friend from my journalism program who lives in California, on a visit to Alaska. 

Given Matt’s talents and long track record as an investigative reporter, it seemed only appropriate to commission a piece from him — the latest in a periodic series of less-serious Northern Journal pieces. 

The stars aligned, and the result is below. Enjoy.

I must confess: I am a burrito snob. A southern California native, I grew up eating beans and rice as a toddler and I’ve spent most of my life surrounded by the best Mexican food in the country. LA’s burritos are notorious slabs of cheesy heaven, while the Bay Area, where I’ve lived for the past 13 years, is home to the “best burrito in America.”

It’s no surprise, then, that whenever Northern Journal head honcho Nat Herz takes a winter trip south, we meet over burritos. The humble, versatile tortilla makes for the perfect travel food vessel. It’s my go-to food for camping, whether I’m traveling by car, bike or foot. Vegetarians and meat lovers alike rejoice in the cylindrical grace of too many calories to count.

On a recent, overdue visit I made to Alaska, Nat proposed an offer I couldn’t refuse. 

We’d taken the state ferry to Valdez for the weekend, with a mix of kayaking, biking and iceberg-spotting on the agenda. To sustain us on our arduous journey across Prince William Sound, I’d prepared newborn baby-sized homemade breakfast burritos, filled with pulled pork that I’d smoked back in California (and stupidly failed to trade for some elk jerky on my flight into Anchorage). 

Naturally, Nat wanted to keep the good times rolling. He offered to buy as many burritos as I could eat in the name of stomach science, in exchange for a professional-grade review in Northern Journal. I, of course, agreed immediately, excited for the potential to explore the culinary delights of a community whose name clearly denoted a thriving Latino culture. (I learned later — oops — that the name Valdez was derived from a Spanish naval officer, Antonio Valdes y Basan, who does not appear to have ever set foot in the state.) 

Nonetheless: It turned out there was a pipeline of burritos available in bustling Valdez.

The terms of our arrangement were simple. I would consume as many burritos as humanly possible in a 72-hour period, and pull no jalapeños in reviewing each one. We’d use the 8 stars on Alaska’s flag for ranking the bloated contestants. Copious napkins were destroyed in this pursuit, as I searched — in vain — for a salsa worthy of a California tabletop.

Did I tire of tortilla-wrapped carbo-bombs for every meal? Perhaps once, when I spied a fluffy breakfast sandwich on a menu and realized I’d gained at least a couple pounds in as many days. 

Was it worth it? 

I can’t think of a better way to spend a long weekend getaway. 

*** SATURDAY *** 

Our first stop on the Valdez burrito trail is a rite of passage for tourists and locals alike, impossible to miss from the docks full of fishing charters: The Potato.

A line of patrons crowding a diminutive deck and the smell of salty french fries made for promising vibes. I ordered the namesake Potatohead burrito with bacon, eager to see what Alaska’s finest had to offer. The sour cream was plentiful; the fries’ salty crunch reminded me of the San Diego style “California burrito.” (Note: Do not visit a proper taqueria in Los Angeles looking for a burrito with french fries. Or rice, for that matter. We take our beans seriously.) 

Despite its heft, the Potatohead needed some additional bacon crumbles to balance the eggs and cheese — which, while offering a melty contrast to the fries, was nothing to write home about. The tortilla was soft and warm, and would have benefitted from a quick stop on the breakfast griddle. I had high hopes for the salsa, as the wide variety of hot sauces available projected an interest in zest. But all I could taste was tomato chunks, devoid of spice. A dousing of Sriracha atoned for this, while the delightful “Mr. Potatohead” poster in the bathroom left a good impression.

Altogether, the meal earned six Alaska stars. 

*** SUNDAY *** 

I missed my alarm Sunday morning. Blame the friendly bartender and stiff drinks at the Stampmill the night before, shared with new friends over a highly competitive game of shuffleboard. [Editor’s note: Ask Matt who won.] As a result, we were running late for our planned kayak paddle into Prince William Sound. Nat insisted that we make breakfast a quick one — and as he pulled into the parking lot of the local Safeway, I began to question our friendship. Part of me died inside when he ordered us both breakfast burritos at the deli, which he described as an Alaska road trip staple.

A deal was a deal, though, and the croissant would not be an option for me. 

Let’s be clear: Safeway didn’t take me back to California. But the burrito, while tiny, was surprisingly edible. Crisp potatoes, bacon and decent scrambled eggs rounded out each bite — though it’s difficult to screw up scrambled eggs. 

At just 9 ounces, or 255 grams — as the sticker wrapped around my meal informed me — I was mildly offended at the size of Safeway’s offering. Still, I couldn’t complain once I’d devoured its lukewarm tortilla. In hindsight, the reasonable size made for a more stable and comfortable paddling experience on the water.

Just don’t tell my friends that I ate a Safeway burrito. Or that I awarded it four Alaska stars.

… 

It turns out that kayaking at a leisurely pace does not burn as many calories as someone subsisting almost exclusively on burritos would hope.

Still, a few hours later, when we found ourselves again meandering around the docks of Valdez, I knew there was only one meal option on my menu — a tube-shaped one. The long wait at Nat Shack was encouraging. The food truck boasted of “artisan tacos and Cal-Mex fare” with waterfront views. 

I briefly found myself questioning my decisions once again when Nat, unencumbered with my singular caloric focus, greeted me in line with a plate of steaming pad thai from another nearby food truck. The waterfront views did not disappoint, however, and after seeing a 100-plus pound halibut hung near the gutting tables just minutes before, there was only one protein choice for my Nat Shack burrito. Delicious, slow-cooked black beans and warm cilantro rice greeted my mouth. They complemented the star of this meal: a hearty helping of halibut, accompanied by pico de gallo and a mellow-but-pleasing dill sauce.

The Nat Shack meal was good enough to make Benny Benson proud, with eight Alaska stars — and for me to crown it the champion of Valdez burritos. 

… 

That night, after a well-deserved, burrito-induced nap, we once again ventured into Prince William Sound — this time aboard a luxurious cruise boat, courtesy of a friend who gave us some extra tickets.

After ordering a glass of wine, I briefly panicked: There was not a single tortilla on the dinner menu. Thankfully, lettuce-wrapped strawberries and bacon-wrapped shrimp were plentiful, prompting an earnest debate over what constitutes a burrito: No, dear reader, lettuce wraps do not count.

*** MONDAY *** 

After summiting Thompson Pass on our bikes and dodging a rain shower on the fast descent, we were running out of time in Valdez. Seeing as there was no rule against repeat visits, I decided to return to The Potato.

They were out of their black bean breakfast burrito. Darn. I opted for a redux of the french fry-filled Potatohead burrito — this time, adding chicken.

The eggs were warm and fluffy once again, adding some heft to a mountain of salty spuds. The chicken was unremarkable, though, and the sad salsa made me long for the sun-ripened tomatoes of my California home.

The only spicy part of the meal came after I got up from my table to grab some Sriracha — a hot sauce produced in my childhood hometown of Rosemead, and whose owners have been locked in an unfortunate feud with their longtime chile supplier.

As I reached for the green-capped Sriracha, I briefly turned my back on my burrito. 

Rookie mistake in Valdez.

Seconds later, a fellow diner yelled for me as a swarm of ravenous ravens pounced on my table and began tearing my burrito apart. Undeterred, I rushed back and chased off the birds in time to salvage two-thirds of the Potatohead. I had no remorse — though, I suppose, I did also have a few less calories, which at this point on the trip was probably a good thing.

My second Potatohead visit earned six Alaska stars for consistency. And for the excitement of an avian burrito burglary.

… 

Nat and I had time for one final burrito, and after walking past it several times during our trip, Loco’s Gringo’s was calling my name. I ordered the Gringo burrito with carnitas. 

A properly grilled tortilla was a first for me in Valdez, and the vibes were immaculate, thanks to friendly staff and seating in a worn-out gondola lift in front of the restaurant.

A healthy amount of guac and sour cream provided adequate lubrication for the carnitas. And while at that point it was a decidedly low bar, the verde salsa at Gringo’s was clearly the best in town. I also appreciated the pop of heat from canned jalapenos, which distracted me from the burrito being overstuffed with rice. From a sheer size standpoint, this was the burrito equivalent of a state fair-worthy giant cabbage.

While Nat and I debated how much cheese was appropriate for a burrito of this stature, we admired the snow-capped mountains surrounding Valdez. Gringo’s had earned my respect, and seven Alaska stars.

As I wiped salsa off my shirt, he reminded me that, “by choice,” I’d just eaten five burritos in three days in Alaska.

No regrets. But next time, I may bring along some salsa from my local taqueria.

Matt Drange is a freelance investigative reporter in the San Francisco Bay Area. He’s worked at Business Insider, Forbes Magazine and the Center for Investigative Reporting.