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

La Tambora’s grip of burrito fundamentals may be as strong as anywhere in town, but when it comes to intangibility between the tortilla folds, it’s clear there’s room for improvement. The proof was in how this burrito, despite its fully respectable OMR, turned into one of those less-than-the-sum-of-its-parts slabs. Chalk a lot of it down to the decidedly off salsa roja that slathered the hell out of the hard-working, but unspectacularly grilled chicken; the blah rice and refried beans foundation also elicited nothing but shrugs. Spice was sub-furious but ever-present, while the grilled tortilla garnered eight mustaches and similarly unimpressed looks from our panel. Granted, the ingredient mix and grated Jack cheese deployment were each uncommonly impressive, and hot bites and no spills are always the way to go with any burrito. But that certain yo no se que was on leave here.

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

La Tambora’s morning crew turned out a steady-truckin’ effort that plowed its way into our eight-mustache promised land - and at a rock-bottom price, no less. Though no elements managed to pull down ten mustaches, the only vaguely degenerate moments came courtesy of the moist, thoroughly unspectacular tortilla, which could have used a good grilling...or at least a quick toweling-off. As ought to be the case with any respectable breakfast burrito, hearty chunks of ham teamed with the thin and delicious omelet layer lining the inner tortilla to ensure toppermost taste in pretty much every bite. Elsewhere in La Tambora’s land of radness, a host of veggie toss-ins – tomato chunks, long-chopped onion, rich guacamole, robust cuts of potato – often enlivened the food-package, and while the need to slurp lurked regularly, oversauciness never became a tragic issue. However, drips did occur, and the late-slab spread didn’t help the burstage abatement score. As for the funny beans, they were pale and looked like they’d maybe rather be lounging in a tureen of minestrone somewhere else in town, but we enjoyed them. And at times, certain spots within the tortilla were too hot – hence the one-mustache downgrade for temperature. But all told, it was a successful slab, punctuated by excellent eggwork.

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

We’d never been subject to split-personality carnitas like this, but with much of La Tambora’s pork appearing more boiled than fried (or roasted) – not to mention fat-laden and grease-spouting – it was all a bit too much for our panel to absorb. One truly unfortunate bite three-quarters of the way in drove the sorry point home: for a 7.75-mustache burrito, this sure was tough slog at times. All the high-rating components - red pepper-flecked spiciness, a sharp ingredient mix that had everything co-mingling gracefully, much melted jack cheese, and near-perfect temperature and burstage abatement efforts - made this lunch all the more maddening. But too many bites were stamped with this scud’s persistent layer of pork-sponsored grease. Also, the overly sticky, steamed tortilla didn’t assuage any of our frustration, and what happened to those killer refrieds we enjoyed last time through? Argh.

Clearly, the only element separating this burrito from the nine-mustache holy land was consistent spiciness, for only two of its 23 glorious bites prompted any sort of oral inferno. Otherwise, any rundown of this burrito’s scorecard - a galloping stampede of eight, nine, and even ten-mustache ratings - demands some of that old-time trumpet fanfare accompaniment. From the first bite forward, La Tambora’s al pastor was this slab’s perfectly charred piece de resistance; though susceptible to the occasional fatty cut, it brilliantly anchored the well-sized scud, top to bottom. Other points of success within the grilled tortilla included ten-mustache sauciness (so good, so pervasive), totally bitchin avocado slices, and a refried beans / brown rice combo that has to be considered one of the finest foundational twin-bills on Burritoeater record. Cheese was on-point, and the few unmelted jack grates didn’t cause no fuss. Pico de gallo didn’t maintain the highest of profiles, but as with the excellent refrieds, it softened a number of bites. Barely a temperature-related grievance registered, and other than the bunched-up spice, other burrito shops around town could learn a thing or two from this burrito’s storied ingredient mix. Flawless construction was confirmed by one and only one napkin used. Outstanding.

One of the least notable eight-mustache burritos of all time. While it managed to rack up several eights and nines, and even a perfect ten for its hell-raising spiciness, when it came to scoring its intangible qualities, it couldn’t get beyond its own adequacy. The long and somewhat slender burrito cradled plentiful avocado chunks and juicy, tender chicken inside its politely grilled, melted cheese-slathered tortilla. And really, its only gaffes were some initial floppiness, an overly tangy element in the sauce, and that bit of seepage that crept in late. But...sometimes the numbers, they don’t add up.