WICKED NICE: Pulp staff. |
If you haven’t noticed lately, Washington Avenue — its Munjoy Hill section — is changing. When I first moved to Portland, there was the Nissen Bakery building, Silly's, and a dark strip of sort of scary buildings. But in the last few years, Washington Avenue has experienced a veritable explosion of commerce and culture.Sitting outside Wicked Pulp, at 52 Washington, there are big Adirondack-style chairs for dining or just chillin’. Lately it's been a little too brisk to take them up on the outdoor dining offer, but the chairs are signifiers of the welcoming attitude inside.
TIP: If you can’t scrape together a two-spot for a decent coffee, just sit in one of the Pulp’s big chairs and inhale the roasting smells from the Coffee by Design roastery across the street. On a day with a southerly breeze, the most die-hard java-head would be satisfied.
Speaking of smell, entering Wicked Pulp, the warm and homey smell of its healthy fare dominates. It is a small space, so the doorless kitchen leaks its magic into the dining room. And dining “room” is sort of a misnomer, since there are just four tables — two four-tops and two doubles. The walls are white, as are the tables, with just a splash of color coming from the floral, vinyl placemats. At one window facing Washington Avenue, you can sit, eat, and look through 3-D Viewmasters from the ’70s. Next to another table is an art installation. Behind another is a small clothing display, and off the main dining area is a small, discreet gallery space. It’s a lot to take in, and also gives Wicked Pulp its charm. It felt like a really cool, multi-talented MECA student who’s not quite sure what he wants to do when he grows up. Full of energy and enthusiasm (but not jacked up on Pepsi and beef jerky), you can’t help but like the kid.
Not so far off, it turns out: Nicole Bsullak, who started Wicked Pulp in March of ’05 with her husband Scott Miller, received her BFA from MECA in jewelry and metals, and their love of art kicked off this whole thing: “We wanted to bring artists together . . . a good variety of people, to have conversations, to be a community; people who wouldn’t normally [come together]. We thought about a gallery, a studio space, and then, we thought we needed another element, and that’s how we thought up the juice bar,” she says.
WP attracts a diverse crowd; as the top of Munjoy Hill gets increasingly yuppified and the bottom of the hill moves to an African beat, it’s the artists who are forging the middle ground, with many of them renting studio space in the area. With all this action, businesses are serving a fascinating mix: “All walks of life, honestly. . . . It’s great when people run into each other randomly and say ‘oh, you know about this place too?’”
In terms of Wicked Pulp’s culinary mission, Nicole seems moved to feed her fellow Munjies. “We wanted to bring some healthy, affordable food to the area. It’s by no means fast food, but a quick place to get some lunch or breakfast — healthy options.” The menu includes bagels, wraps, soups, and baked goods (some wheat and gluten-free). Many sandwiches are named for streets on the Hill. There are vegan options, but fish, chicken, Canadian bacon, and eggs are on the menu too. The smoothies (design your own from coconut milk, soy milk, yogurt, and fruit) are worth every moment of the brain freeze they cause. The wraps are tasty (though they could be improved with brown rice) and the soups of the day (Harvest Peanut Pumpkin among them) have been excellent. Unique to WP is ginger honey, used in wraps and on bagels. Although I have yet to down an energy ball (a concoction of goodies including oats, honey, and peanut butter) they sell about three dozen a day, so they’re wicked well-liked. My only complaint is that WP seems so popular (and the kitchen so small) that “sorry, we’re out of that today” was a common refrain.
Expecting their first baby at the end of the month, Scott and Nicole seem right on track: “we’ll just keep on building our clientele and enjoying them, because that’s what makes us happy; it’s like a family — an old school neighborhood.” Wicked.
