Swish: meat (9); cheese (9); spiciness (9); burstage abatement (9); tortilla (8)
Shrug: rice (7); beans (7); size (6); eggs (6); vegetables (6); sauciness (6)
Clang: temperature (5); ingredient mix (4)
Intangibility bonus: 1 (of 2)

First, the good news: Victor’s amateurish leap into our 2007 slab-pool was, nevertheless, a step up from the drippy debacle we endured here two years prior. The tortilla rang true this time, the jack cheese was nicely melted along that very same tortilla, and the overall level of spiciness merited no criticisms from our hard-hearted panel of judges. And other than one bite that ended in a crash of salsa verde, construction was remarkably strong. But not even this burrito’s excellent set of bacon could save it from the low-seven-mustache bin of mediocrity. The overly diced egg scramble was nothing remotely special, while the potato-less vegetable armada was far too front-and-center for our liking at such an early hour. Most tactlessly, the clunky mix not only brought out the worst in certain ingredients, but exacerbated an already dodgy temperature-shift situation – cold bites occurred much too frequently, which in turn compromised intangible credibility. The criminally slender dimensions also bummed us out, for without this burrito’s weird inclusion of rice, sizing would have been downright humiliating.

It’s understandable why Victor’s doesn’t call theirs a chicken molé sauce – it’s more of a chicken molé juice. Once we absorbed all the nonstop drips and drabs and realized that this burrito’s strongest point was its harmless rice, we were left grasping nothing more than a dissatisfyingly soggy foodpiece that fully deserved a demotion to the low minors. It was floppy from the get-go, and it seemed as if our requested addition of jalapeño dragged its overall temperature down to Candlestick-like lows. And as if all that wasn’t enough of a travesty, the cheese and refried beans alike were complete non-factors at (and on) the plate. At least the chicken was fair enough, although its association with any sort of molé seemed to be nothing more than a rumor. A gusher like this is nobody’s friend, other than perhaps the napkin dispenser.

It hurled consistent heat, its fully melted cheese upon the grilled tortilla was a sharply hit triple up the alley, and the carne asada pulled one hell of a pick-off move. We’ll forgive the light-hitting salsa and the comparably miniscule – yet steroid-free – heft of the thing. Victor’s hardly tossed a shutout, but a win is a win.