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

You may ask yourself: Self, how does a length-challenged burrito lacking truly outstanding meat, rice, and beans still achieve all-time greatness? The answer, of course, requires about 150 words and lies at the exact pinpoint on the San Francisco taqueria map where truth meets legend.

First, mitigate slabular shortness with heavy-duty girth, but not to the point where the burrito becomes an unwieldy, near-round monstrosity, like all that foiled silliness Chipotle foists on its customers. Then acquiesce to the customer’s request for a grilled tortilla, and do it extra-right by melting multiple slices of cheese upon it as it grills. Proceed to create a harmonious ensemble of veggies, and maybe let the guacamole take the lead for a change. Then pelt the tortilla with nicely charred/seasoned chicken, sure-handed Spanish rice, and steady-truckin’ refried beans, none of which should get all uppity and want to dominate everything in its midst. Kindly spice the whole affair up to the nines with liberal amounts of burly salsa verde, and make the meal whistle and sing with a rad ingredient mix. Do all this, and the intangibility and mustaches will take care of themselves. Like here at Gordito.

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

Eight, nine, eight, eight, eight, nine, nine, eight, nine, nine, nine, nine. That’s how the scoresheet looked after our panel polished off this unspectacularly spectacular burrito, which clearly wanted no part of neither perfection nor mediocrity. A bit squatty, but sporting a heft worthy of 16 bites, the burly slab displayed an elegantly crafted ingredient mix that never leaned too heavily on any particular element – classic ensemble burritowork. Fiery spice kicked into gear about a third of the way in, while the entire blimp was brilliantly splattered with salsa verde and a smart selection of pasty refried beans. Juicy beef punctuated several bites with subtle flavor, as did melted slices of jack cheese and a host of veggie additives – diced onion and tomato, chopped cilantro, semi-thick guacamole, uh-huh, that’s right. The grilled (on request) tortilla was on-point, the puffy-grained Spanish rice got it done right, and intangible credibility was never in doubt.

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

First things first: A Gordo slab looks the part. It’s short, it’s chubby, it’s gordo. Few other taquerias can make such an outrageous claim that its burritos are eponymous in general appearance, but of course, few taquerias in San Francisco are in Gordo’s league at this point. On the rare occasions we enjoy a burrito this unassailable, we’re not eating in disbelief; rather, while we’re biting, chewing, and mulling the greatness, we keep returning to one simple thought: This is how it’s pretty much supposed to be at the taqueria. Hot bites. Fortifications of melted jack along a hella grilled (always on request at Gordo) tortilla. Instant spice-kick, from bite one all down the line. An ace veggie ensemble (although this one could have used a greater hint of guacamole). Supremely sauced pork that makes no enemies. Again with the hot bites. Moist and fluffy grains of Spanish rice. Delicious refried beans that know their role and don’t try to pop out from behind the curtain every time you look at the back of the stage. That certain yo no se que we call "intangibility." And an ingredient mix that pulls it all together to win over even the most critical consumer (ahem) right away. 17 bites of real good times in the Richmond fog.

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

Short, flattish, full of girth, and mighty delicious. The swishes far outnumbered the shrugs on this afternoon trip to San Francisco’s lowest-profile Gordo, when four perfect element ratings sent this slab’s OMR skyward. A whole bunch of hot hot heat – spice and temperature – kept the cool-bite scourge at bay throughout, while a grilled-to-bejeezus tortilla (upon our request) and a couldn’t-be-better vegetable ensemble also weighed in at a full ten mustaches. Nice rice and melted cheese as well, and we would never overlook such an admirably well-integrated ingredient mix. How rad was that guacamole? It was so rad. Problems included a set of carnitas that floated in and out of mushiness, and a construction scheme that seemed to value flat aerodynamics over cylindrical ease of maneuverability. But most tellingly, perhaps, was when one of the more difficult members of our judges panel was heard mumbling at one point, face-deep into this burrito, “Them’s some refrieds.” Well, there you have it. This burrito tasted terrific.

Short of possessing the moxie necessary to sample a sesos smoothie, we’d like to think our taste buds are directly attached to an open mind. So even though it’s an acknowledged fact that we’re not big fans of Gordo or most vegetarian burritos, we went ahead and tried their super bean & cheese burrito at someone’s suggestion. Surprisingly, it held together admirably, which considering the sorry track record of past Gordo slab-crashes, was a minor victory in and of itself. Credit the sog-deprived pinto beans - while they’re generally too prominent in Gordo burritowork for our liking, at least they’d been adequately drained this time around. In other areas, some 10-mustache spice totally laid down the law from the first bite onward, while the excellent, puffy Spanish brown rice (added at our request) and extra-melted cheese also garnered cheers from the judges’ table. The focal point of this stubby fireplug – the everyday vegetable corps – was dependably on-point but never outstanding, and the chilly addition of jalapeño slices knocked the overall temperature down a notch. But on an afternoon when we finally found a Gordo burrito we enjoyed, it’s in everyone’s best interests to accentuate the positive: This burrito didn’t break.

This burrito’s full collapse only reinforced what we’ve believed for years: Eating the remains of a burrito with a fork strikes us as an act of failure. But at Gordo, you can’t seem to win -- the soaky whole beans won’t allow it. Aside from this most egregious of tactical construction errors, it’s a nice enough burrito. But sometimes it’s easier to eat coffee with a fork than it is to keep a Gordo burrito together.