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

There are a handful of local taquerias where we could likely identify burritos in a blind tasting*: Papalote, Tacos El Tonayense, Gordo, Rubio’s (simply because they’re so criminally awful), El Farolito. And here was the definitive Farolito slab: amply sized, swathed in a mega-grilled tortilla, and packed with seasoning-rich meat, role-playing refried beans, a little too much rice, cheese cheese so much melted cheese, and fairly booming spice, with towering intangible cred and an earthiness other Bay Area taquerias aspire to one day decode. We overlooked the top-end burstage since it didn’t lead to any crash-tragedies. As for the Little Lighthouse’s carnitas, it could have done with some external charring, but it still took a flavor-backseat to very few porks in town. Veggie and guacamole content was a bit bereft, but the tang-slingin’ pico de gallo did its share of the heavy lifting. Hot bites: totally. The carnitas’ grease brought down the saucy shares’ stock price a little, but these things are bound to happen on occasion when the kitchen of origin is pretty much the salt of the earth.

* Note to foes: Kindly do not call us out on this. We’re just saying.

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

We’re not sure why it took us so long to hop aboard El Farolito’s breakfast burrito bandwagon, but certain elements of this excellent morning slab made the wait worth it. A ten-mustache ingredient mix? Ruthlessly melted cheese in pretty much every bite? Hella avocado? It all added up to big numerical doings on our panel’s scoresheet. El Farolito’s egg/chorizo ensemble may not have been earth-shaking, but it boasted just the right flavor at all the right times, establishing itself as a respectable foundation early on. We sidestepped the rice option, but failed to specify our preference for refried beans - as a result, we paid the price with a set of overly dry pintos. We’re afraid burstage wasn’t entirely abated, as grease persistently oozed forth from the chorizo and promoted tortilla sag at times, but since the tortilla itself received a brutal grilling prior to jump-off, things remained reasonable, if a shade unwieldy. Meanwhile, spice crept in nicely all slab long.

Remember that time we had a sesos torta here? (Not our swiftest decision, we admit.) Even though this burrito was much more enjoyable than any brains sandwich could ever be, we’re afraid it came up short in too many areas to support Farolito’s godhead status among certain cliques of San Francisco’s burrito-eating community. Nothing was disastrous here, but the surprisingly tame spiciness and a too-segregated ingredient mix helped undercut any chance of intangible glory. All our favorite big-burrito descriptives applied – “hefty,” “bulky,” “girthsome,” “buxom,” you name it; this was a real large lunch. The unceremonious chicken was a particular sticking point, as it languished in a light marinade before its call-up to the majors. Despite its moist origins, however, a peculiar dryness lingered. The reputable refried beans were sadly underexposed, while the pale rice, though tasty, dominated too many bites. Melted jack cheese paired nicely with all that rice, but this was a burrito, dammit, not a rice-and-cheese wrap. The pico de gallo was all-pro, and the avocado (sequestered as it was) contributed strongly, as expected. Elsewhere, the suspect mix also created an isolated temperature dip for a few moments, although the cool-bite scourge was quickly quarantined. Impenetrable construction provided a ratings boost, but not...quite...enough.

We nudged along the improvement process this time around by not ordering sour cream and specifying refried beans (our perennial), and as if on cue, this tasty, gargantuan slab crested eight mustaches. Yet, we still felt it underperformed – it wouldn’t have taken much more effort on El Farolito’s part to push this one well above 8.50. Are we nut-busting here? Perhaps a bit, but given this famed taqueria’s reputation in certain circles, is it too much to ask to not have to slog through 40 cubic feet of Spanish rice, as well as a mildly irritating dearth of beans and a minor shortage of sauce? This burrito’s internal composition wasn’t an overall disaster by any stretch, but wedged in the slab’s hind end was a large cluster of barbecued pork – smarter meat distribution surely would have upped the mustache ante. And what of Farolito’s highly regarded al pastor? All-time as ever, along with their sharp habits of grilling every tortilla, engineering peerless construction, cheesing each burrito to the nines, and delivering spicy combustibility in every slab. No doubt, there was a great deal to enjoy within this girthsome, cylindrical affair whose 40 shades of orange were pockmarked with bits of greenery (avocado, jalapeño, the odd stalk of cilantro). If El Farolito has designs on a hall of fame career, however, it’s time to start producing burritos that rate sky-high up and down the chart, rather than ones which merely dabble in greatness.

A fine performance hampered by globby sour cream and the surprising inclusion of pinto beans. Everything else ruled, including the championship-caliber melted cheese, terrific avocado slices, flood of onions, and that ubiquitous, delicious steak.