Swish: cheese (9); temperature (9); burstage abatement (9); size (8); vegetables (8); sauciness (8)
Shrug: tortilla (7); ingredient mix (7); rice (6); spiciness (6)
Clang: meat (5); beans (5)
Intangibility bonus: 0 (of 2)

Something crucial was missing here - that zero next to “Intangibility bonus” is no typo. We know we asked the Vallarta kitchen to go a little light on the rice, and what we got was a negligible, if overly careful representation. And we certainly know where things really went wrong here: Look no further than the bland, occasionally gristle-inclusive steak and unapologetically lousy refried beans if you're hunting for five-mustache shame. And we were probably too kind with the ungrilled tortilla. Granted, certain elements remained on-point, such as several smartly melted jack cheese slices and quite capable salsafication. Even the ingredient mix earned a certain amount of respect from our crusty panel. But from the first bite down, something was irrefutably off. Our last time in, we were presented with a Chinatown-like slab – suspenseful in all the right ways, with tight construction and top performances all around. This time, it was The Two Jakes. Clunk.

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

No way; way!: Not even the mysterious inclusion of chopped lettuce in our mid-afternoon breakfast burrito could derail the Vallarta choo choo...and everyone knows we can’t stand lettuce in our burritos. The sledgehammer of delicious all-around flavor here was so mighty, they could have gotten away with tossing in a handful of mung beans. The most significant contributor to this slab’s success was the diced chorizo/egg scramble, which made every next bite as powerful as its predecessor. Jack cheese grates melted themselves adroitly all over the scene, and the absence of rice gave the exceptional refried beans a prominent platform on which to showcase their pasty radness. Hearty avocado slices mitigated the potentially disastrous lettuce toss-in, and the rest of the veggie gang was no slouch. Hot bites wrote the biggest checks of all here, while spice was an all-business affair, often. Burstage abatement would have been more impressive, were it not for the overly soft feel of the foodpiece and one or two tiny tears in the tortilla. Sizing was ideal, the ingredient mix garnered much admiration, and the grilled tortilla got it done in all the right ways. No clangs here, not even a shrug, and good grief, those were some tasty eggs. Onions!

Vallarta has been 24th St.’s portrait of eight-mustache consistency for years, so it was disconcerting when we ended up on the business end of such uncharacteristically ordinary burritowork this time around. A trifecta of flubs re: our order ensured this effort a sure spot on our 2006 All-Shoulder-Shrug squad, but even if they’d have included the refried beans, chicken, and avocado we expected – as opposed to the whole beans, chicken/pork medley, and zero avocado that ended up pockmarking this slab’s innards – chances were still slim this burrito would have banged the eight-mustache gong. What really kicked our panel’s shins here was the outright bland rice/beans foundation, along with an overly slender physical profile and an ingredient mix that brought to mind split-screen shots employed during televised political debates. And how’d that al pastor land in our dinner? Sure, it was tasty, but this wasn’t a pork night on the Burritoeater event calendar. The lightly grilled tortilla and melted-on-said-tortilla jack cheese were all fine, though nothing special, and the pico de gallo and long-cut onion slices must have felt stood up by all the avocado truancy. A perfect run of hot bites, solid building framework, and fairly fierce spiciness kept this burrito’s head above the mediocre waterline, if barely.

After reading most of this year’s World Almanac while waiting on our burrito, it arrived lengthy enough, if a shade on the slender side. Anchored by some finely chopped, well-marinated pork and a winning ensemble of vegetables (including two kinds of onion), this was the latest in Vallarta’s ongoing streak of consistently fine, if unspectacular food-work squeezed forth from their veteran burrito assembly line. Spice lurked but wasn’t a major factor, while the mistaken inclusion of pinto (rather than refried) beans shaved a ’stache off that element’s rating. Vallarta will never make the top burrito in town - but on the other hand, the odds of them kicking down a ghastly six-mustache slab are reliably unlikely. And crikey, is their jukebox loud.

Vallarta’s always been the portrait of consistency, and with this entry filed and chronicled, we'll go on record with that. Here was the archetypical eight-mustache burrito – no world-beater, just strong across the board, with nary a glaring weakness. Generous bulk? Check. Nice steak? Yup. Solid fundamentals (ie. tortilla, rice, beans) in place? Sure. Intangible goodness? Right. Workmanlike steadiness all around.