Swish: tortilla (10); sauciness (10); tofu (9); beans (9); cheese (9); vegetables (9); ingredient mix (9); temperature (9); burstage abatement (9); rice (8); spiciness (8)
Shrug: size (7)
Clang: no elements clanged
Intangibility bonus: 2 (of 2)

In May 2006, Papalote’s super marinated tofu burrito went for nine mustaches at its Mission location; at the end of the decade, its Western Addition shop evened the score. How? Masterful salsafication — the kind only available here — and one ruthlessly grilled tortilla both played significant roles, while a host of other elements, including the gracefully charred / achiote-enhanced tofu itself, never blinked in the face of greatness. We’ve been major fans of Papalote’s black refried beans since that first single came out on Slabco back in ’03; the things haven’t lost any of their signature pasty thump in all the intervening years. Other than the rice being a little too low-profile for our liking, this burrito’s ingredient mix remained entirely trouble-free. Spice was polite enough for the neighborhood college kids, yet bitchin enough for our incorrigible panel of dropouts. Harmless bean seepage prevented a perfect burstage abatement rating, but the cheese-melting clinic happening back in the kitchen sure provided some elegant entertainment at our table. We could go on about the almost-there sizing or limitless intangibility, but we’ll hit it and quit before it looks like we’re on Papalote’s payroll.

Swish: cheese (10); vegetables (10); tortilla (9); meat (9); beans (9); sauciness (9); temperature (9); ingredient mix (8); burstage abatement (8)
Shrug: size (7); rice (7); spiciness (6)
Clang: no elements clanged
Intangibility bonus: 2 (of 2)

And again, slabular intangibility soared higher than one of Papalote’s famed kites. Pico de gallo and guacamole sprinted around our track at ten-mustache speed, while much melted cheese gooed up most every bite eight ways to Sunday. Given the stiff, overgrilled tortilla – a real rarity...but it can happen - saucy burstage was a bit of an issue throughout, as were occasional protrusions of Papalote’s always sharp black refried beans. Spanish rice was workmanlike and on the slightly dry side, while our sole beef with the less-juicy-than-usual steak was that it was merely excellent, rather than extraordinary. Finally, the vertical mix suffered at times, but all elements managed to weigh in equitably at one point or another. Does any of this make sense?

Swish: tortilla (10); cheese (10); sauciness (10); temperature (10); burstage abatement (10); meat (9); beans (9); ingredient mix (9); rice (8); vegetables (8)
Shrug: size (7); spiciness (7)
Clang: no elements clanged
Intangibility bonus: 2 (of 2)

Like a virtuoso trombonist, or the most graceful roller skater you could ever hope to see in Golden Gate Park, Papalote makes it all look so remarkably easy. And with this 9.08-mustache stunner, the twin-cam taqueria’s Western Addition shop boldly stepped out of the considerable shadow of its older, more celebrated Mission sibling. Fire salvo one!: A perfectly grilled-to-flaky tortilla, construction that could have withstood The Big One, hot bite after hot bite after hot bite, and melted jack cheese and Papalote’s famed salsa scattered all about the slab. Fire salvo two!: Ultramega-grilled cuts of deliciously charred chicken, black refried beans that knew a thing or two about both taste and paste, and an ingredient mix that fostered healthy working relationships between all elements involved. Fire salvo three!: A well-rounded group of vegetable inclusions (thick ‘n’ sharp guacamole paired with infusions of tomato, cilantro, and onion), and just the right amount of capable, tiny-grain rice to pad out the whole production. Un-infernal, but respectable spiciness and typically just-short sizing may not deserve the silly fire-salvo! treatment, but polite pats on the back are still in order. On the rare occasion we’re presented with foiled food of this mustachioed magnitude, we can’t help but dream: Why? Why can’t they all be this way?

Swish: tortilla (10); cheese (10); temperature (10); beans (9); sauciness (9); burstage abatement (9); rice (8); vegetables (8)
Shrug: size (7); eggs (7); ingredient mix (6)
Clang: spiciness (4)
Intangibility bonus: 2 (of 2)

What bright, shiny foil! More importantly, how about that food within? Bedazzling burrito accessories and foolishly employed exclamation points aside, our first plunge into Papalote’s AM slab-pool was a brisk, belly-filling dip that begged the inquiry: What the hell took us so long? A little short but a lot chubby, this all-hot effort boasted more melted cheese than our panel knew what to do with, as well as a brilliantly grilled tortilla that doused any doubts about Papalote's grill being slow to fully heat up before the noon hour. It’s true that the omelette elements on hand (mega-diced scrambled eggs, grilled mushrooms and red bell pepper) were overshadowed early on by the delicious, yet encroaching black refried beans, but the ingredient ensemble got it together by the time we reached the lower half. This was a rare breakfast burrito that featured rice, and we were alright with that. The one clanging moment here – an unignorable dearth of spice – was tempered by Papalote’s tried/true salsa and all that ace cheese deployment, which nearly busted our mustache scale on its own.

Swish: tortilla (10); cheese (10); temperature (10); sauciness (9); burstage abatement (9); meat (8); beans (8); vegetables (8); spiciness (8)
Shrug: size (7); ingredient mix (7); rice (6)
Clang: no elements clanged
Intangibility bonus: 2 (of 2)

A return to form for Papalote, and not just because they remembered to include rice this time. We shook hands with this reasonably sized lunch blimp, marveled at its all-hot tactile demeanor and gorgeously grilled tortilla, and commenced to bitin’, chewin’, and mullin’. Sauciness was a go-getter throughout – no surprise, given our choice of marinade-heavy meat – and the easy-shredding pork itself was a dependable deliverer of salted-just-right flavor. Spice crept in stealthily from every angle until reaching critical mass by burrito’s end. Some minor sauce-bleed down at the hind end, combined with a bit more squish than was probably necessary, spoke to imperfect construction, but that internal wall of gooey, melted jack made it all better. With some longer-cooked and better-integrated rice, this intangible-rich burrito surely would have hit higher in the eights.

Papalote’s molé is not for the faint of heart. Darker than a Joy Division record and richer than any given Rockefeller, it’s a veritable lava flow that dominates everything in its path, even though it tastes much better and goes down more smoothly than actual lava. This surprisingly robust-looking slab – "surprisingly" because Papalote isn’t usually known for producing belt-busting burritos – featured well-grilled tortilla outerwear and, due to unrelenting sauce content, much softness at every turn. We contained any potential burstage mess, but as tasty as the black refried beans were, they only enhanced the squish factor. Melted jack cheese was a nice touch, as was chopped tomato, onion, and cilantro; thick guacamole provided a welcome green counterpoint to all the ebony-hued molé. A sharp ingredient mix and chunks of glurg-drenched chicken impressed our panel, and a perfect succession of hot bites set this burrito’s thermostat on high. So doesn’t it seem peculiar that the molé sauce would lord over every other ingredient on hand? Shouldn’t have Papalote’s esteemed brown rice offered some sort of soak-in counterpoint? It absolutely should have, if only it had been included. Oops. An honest mistake, to be sure. But one so costly.

(This burrito’s rating isn’t included in Papalote’s OMR, since it was a product of the short-lived Tango 20! regime. But we keep its review - 2005's lowest mustache rating - on hand to demonstrate what a train wreck it truly was.)
What did we just have for dinner? What was that? It was 86 cents a bite, whatever it was. We know what we ordered, but what we eventually received was a tiny plastic cup of slaw and a couple of banana chips, with a wrap in burrito’s clothing on the side. (Or perhaps it was a burrito in wrap’s clothing.) Its guts exposed at the hands of a vicious diagonal chop-job, this pathetically wee little thing erroneously contained mushy black beans (we'd requested their “epazote pinto beans”), an alarming paucity of pico de gallo, and everybody’s favorite burrito toss-in, unmelted cheese. The tortilla was grilled, but so what? Its chewiness betrayed any evidence of time spent on the grill. The sorry half-cut encouraged disrespectable temperatures right away. Even the ingredient mix was kind of a disaster. The few pieces of grilled achiote chicken included were tasty, and there may have been enough spice to distract us for a few moments, but nevertheless, we felt pretty heisted by the end of our stay. There just wasn’t enough of anything on hand here...and at the same time, we’d had about enough. As food goes, sure, it was adequate. As a burrito? Clango 20! is more like it.