Swish: cheese (10); size (9); tortilla (9); temperature (9); meat (8); spiciness (8)
Shrug: sauciness (7); rice (6); vegetables (6); ingredient mix (6); burstage abatement (6)
Clang: beans (5)
Intangibility bonus: 1 (of 2)

Even the tortilla – so grilled, it was practically toasted – had no choice but to ultimately succumb to this hefty burrito’s molé washout. One by one, the molé's sea of dark glurg knocked everything else flat, staging a merciless coup until it was the last thing oozing. Among the defeated ingredients: thin, barely-there refried beans; the delicious, but completely overmatched guacamole; a delicate construction aesthetic that didn’t stand a chance against Agent Molé; and as noted, the otherwise spot-on tortilla. Problem is, burritos shouldn’t be war zones, but rather peace parks of harmoniously cooperative elements. However, Dos Piñas’ molé had a damaging militaristic mood that couldn’t be deprogrammed, and it led to the final detriment of this squishy, at times burstage-happy slab. Not even credible spice, a fine helping of poultry, and tortilla-lining pillows of melted cheese could save this one from the bin of disappointment, considering how its immediate predecessor several months prior was the greatest burrito of 2007.

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

No way. Way! Our po-faced panel sauntered into this old haunt at the dinner hour expecting more seven-something-mustache adequacy, only to emerge more stunned than the bonehead who accidentally wears a target shirt to a Taser convention. Taquerias with longstanding reputations for undersized, overpriced, shrugtacular burritowork aren’t supposed to weigh in at 9.17 mustaches, completely out of nowhere. What the hell happened here? Our sharp decision to go the super fajita ordering route here resulted in generous dimensions, more melted jack than we (almost) knew what to with, some right tasty guacamole, and a throng of grilled onion and red bell pepper that played a significant role in sealing this extraordinary burrito’s nine-mustache deal. Elsewhere, the steady-rollin’ refried beans contributed tasty squish throughout this slab’s 18-bite stay, while the grilled tortilla and subtly peppered pork each caught and maintained our attention top to bottom. The delicious and moist rice, perfectly applied in both placement and amount, also deserves much credit, as does the spiciness...the kind that sneaks in after about a dozen bites and slyly reminds you it’s been there all along, and it’s only going to escalate. Have we covered everything? Almost. As great as all the parts here were, the sum of them was greater, for this slab’s intangible dominance can’t be conveyed in a capsule review. As with taquerias, as in life: Sometimes, you just never know.

It’s hard to find a more simple burrito than one of Dos Piñas’ breakfast options. (For the purpose of this review, we define “simple” as “containing five, and only five, ingredients.”) Even in their late ‘90s heyday, Dos Piñas never brought forth much in the way of sizable AM slabbery, and nothing’s changed all these years later. The fluffy scrambled eggs were the prime mover here within the sharply grilled tortilla, which begs the question: Are truck stops known for skimping on chicken apple sausage? The cylindri-pork that was on hand here was certainly very tasty, but a more equal portion to that of the dominant eggs would have upped the ante to a reasonable level. The big clang, however, came via the suspect salsa – its attempt to bring a bit of tangy flair to our morning just made us frown on contact. And where were the grilled sweet onions on the bill? Elsewhere, apparently, along with all the other vegetables. Given this burrito’s austere makeup, a fairly seamless ingredient mix was a near certainty, and don’t think we didn’t appreciate its perfectly melted jack cheese shreds, near-perfect run of hot bites, and infallible construction, because we did. But 13 bites? Come ahn. Beef, er, sausage it up.

If you’re going to ask someone to kick down nearly seven bucks for a burrito, it should at least fill one's tummy. Not the case here, and sadly, neither was a full slate of warm bites. Apart from those costly errors, Dos Piñas’ work did manage to include some enjoyable guacamole, laudable spiciness and sauciness, and the all-too-rare achievement of intelligent sour cream deployment. But cold bites are unforgivable.

As small as it was, we still enjoyed this burrito. But the dog ate our notes about it, so you’ll have to take our word for it.