Never mind the saucy burstage on each end, or the somewhat moisture-addled tortilla, or even the minor side-to-side ingredient mix issues. When the burrito is this rife with intangible credibility, everyone’s in luck. The convivial folks in Reina’s kitchen clearly know the way to our judges panel’s heart, and it involves hearty avocado slices, hell-bringing spice, and scads of melted Jack cheese bleeding white and gooey over real good refried beans. Even the negatives here turned positive, with the internally dry beef counterbalancing itself by somehow delivering sharp flavor. Sometimes we can say it all in under a hundred words. Hang on, one more: onions!

It was perfectly shaped. The burly chunks of boiled pork got it done right. The rich salsa verde performed extraordinarily. The tortilla was expertly grilled to the point of flakiness. The cheesework deserved every mustache that came its way. The vegetable array was diverse, sharp, and delicious. Other than some very minor sauce seepage, construction was fairly quakeproof. And everything was mixed way pro-like. So if you’re at all wondering why this beauty queen of a meal didn’t turn out to be a Burritoeater Hall of Fame slab, look no further than its somewhat mushy rice grains, refried beans that seemed to bleed into all the salsa, and most notably, surprisingly bantamweight spice. Your burrito can have all the intangible cred in the universe, as this one certainly did. But when spice comes up limp, well, damn. This one could have been a contender.

Its only real shortcoming being a dearth of truly spicy firepower, this outstanding burrito connected most of the other dots on our scoresheet -- namely, the thoughtfully grilled tortilla, the here/there/everywhere melted cheese, and the pico de gallo- and avocado-rich vegetable contingent, among others. A beguiling set of pastor tasted as if it had visited a crackling bacon fryer before being dumped into our lunch slab, and while that may make a few members of our audience shudder in disgust, the rest of us will contort our faces into expressions that pretty much say, Aw yeah. Top-notch construction, slab-wide heat, and a sharply designed ingredient mix sealed the delicious deal.

In spite of a tortilla too prone to saucy soak-through for it to be taken completely seriously, this out-of-the-way shop’s debut slab was a quiet hit on our mustachometer. There was much to appreciate here, like the kitchen’s instinctive ability to go light on the rice without allowing it to disappear entirely. Elsewhere, Reina’s proclivity for tall spice resulted in a great deal of beverage-swilling on our part. And the cheese! Abundant and fully melted, all that Monterey Jack softened each of the 15 bites in a way we’d never experienced. Avocado slices were also plentiful, although a few other usual vegetables (pico de gallo, cilantro) were strangely skimped upon. The tinga chicken appeared in cumbersome lumps, but retained enough of its external juiciness inside to mitigate its made-for-lumberjacks aesthete. And as much as we’d get a kick out of ending this review with the very poncey aesthete, the refried beans and Spanish rice deserve closing shouts for ideal supporting contributions.