That's the Juan!
JUAN'S FLYING BURRITO'S affordable fare has become a hip mainstay on Magazine
Street.
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Can you spot the Juan in this photo? Co-owner Travis Lee and the FLYING BURRITO staff serve up the namesake food cheap and tasty.
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WHAT: Juan's Flying Burrito
CUISINE: Mexican
WHEN: Lunch and dinner daily
WHERE: 2018 Magazine St., 569-0000
CARDS: Major
The voice on the other end of the phone line ponders the request to speak to
the "Juan" at Juan's Flying Burrito.
"Which Juan?" asks the sing-song "hey dude" voice, as if launching
into a "Who's on first?" routine.
Juan the owner. "We're all Juan," replies the voice. OK. Just like the Ramones?
"Yeah, something like that," he says.
And that is Juan's Flying Burrito in a nutshell, or a tortilla
shell, if you prefer. Juan's is not likely to find itself listed among the
city's finer eateries. But it's probably the hippest place to eat a burrito and
knock back a $1 can of Pabst Blue Ribbon in the city. Just being at Juan's
exudes cool. You just have to get it.
As the pioneer restaurant three years ago in the now-very-hip 2000
block of Magazine Street, Juan's fast became an enclave for an eclectic
assortment of diners. Most were drawn by Juan's East Village/Mission District
vibe, one that still finds few matches across the city. And the fact that
nothing on the menu exceeds $8 didn't hurt, either.
On a rare afternoon lull, co-owner Travis Lee sits at a quiet table
in Juan's back room. Lee co-owns the restaurant along with lifelong pals Warren
Chapoton and David Duncan. Lee is laid-back, lanky, dressed in a tight-fitting
'50s-era girlie pic T-shirt, faded jeans, and Doc Martens. He takes long drags
on an endless succession of cigarettes.
"In a city like New Orleans, especially with the shoestring budget
that we started out with, you had to have something different, something unique
that locals could still identify with," he says in an almost California cadence
that belies all three owners' native roots. "So what's better than beans and
rice?
"The whole philosophy of this place is exactly in tune with the
philosophy of New Orleans itself," he says. "It's a melting pot of many
different things, a perfect blend of San Francisco-style cooked to order, New
Orleans spice, and a little bit of tradition." He pauses. "But not all that
much."
From the kitchen, the Beastie Boys' Licensed to Ill album blasts
out toward the front dining room as Lee explains the origins of the all-Juan
concept. "Juan's was a concept born out of a group effort," he says. "We are
all Juan because everyone does their part to make this place successful."
At this point, Chapoton emerges from the kitchen in a
grease-stained apron, tattered Juan's cap, and Blackula t-shirt. "Everybody
wants a little piece of Juan's," he says, "and I feel like, hey, give the
people what they want."
One of those pieces suddenly appears in the form of a harvest
quesadilla, a tasty mix of sweet potatoes, grilled red onions, green chili
peppers, salsa, and Jack cheese. Served in Juan's customary plastic basket with
wax paper, it leaves something to be desired in terms of presentation, but for
$5.75, who's arguing?
"Part of why we're here is to provide a service for our fellow man,
which is to provide a good product -- healthy food at a fair price," Chapoton
continues. Sliding into Lee's West Coast groove, he adds, "Karma-wise, we're
feeding beans and rice to people, so we're looking pretty good."
The owners are quick to stand by the quality of their offerings.
"Everything is fresh that we do here," insists Lee. "You will never eat any
food here that has been here for more than one day."
Lee says that Juan's greatest culinary validation comes from some
high-profile diners in the local food industry who regularly drop by. But
that's not to say there isn't plenty of love to go around for the other diners.
"The most beautiful thing about this restaurant is I love our customers," Lee
says. "At any given moment, you can have men and women from downtown here who
are sitting with their suits and ties, and right at the table next to them you
can have alternative people who have tattoos all over their faces and piercings
all over."
True. After all, where could the mildly unwashed set possibly feel
more at home than in a restaurant that offers one burrito called the "Gutter
Punk"?
In the past year, Juan's also has blossomed into a showcase venue
for local artists who find places for their work in the available wall space
among stacks of 'zines and flyers. Mark Kirk, whose mini-gallery Urban Products
is just a few doors down, designed the restaurant's punctured aluminum can
lighting. In the back room, Evan Hayes' bent canvases fill most of the space.
Juan's owners envision opening more restaurants following some
continuing renovations on their building. But would a place like Juan's go over
in the suburbs, divorced from the electric hum of the varied urban creatures
who frequent it? Maybe, maybe not, but on one hot little Irish Channel block,
there's no better place to drop $5, dude.
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