This classic-sized slab dodged a few bullets – low sauce content, fully unspectacular grilled chicken – to keep itself in position to garner a respectable rating by the time the last of the foil hit our red plastic tray. But around halfway through, our panel became concerned with the severe lack of cheese on hand: Where...where are the pillowy tufts? (Or something similar.) Turns out friendly Mr. Slabmaker Fella behind Vallarta’s counter didn’t shoehorn too many shreds of cheese into his oblong handiwork, and that hurt us real bad. Elsewhere, plenty of diced onion, cilantro, and sliced avocado picked up a bit of the dairy slack, while spice levels flew deep into the red from the get-go. But what was with the perilously unseasoned poultry? This is California! The state that brought flavor to America! Come on.