Clang clang clang went the brutally sparse whole pinto beans; clang clang clang went the serious paucity of vegetables, other than raw-ish diced onion. Clang clang clang went cheese's input, so subtle as to essentially enter that patently weird realm of InvisiCheese; and perhaps most irritatingly, clang clang clang went the sorrily light emphasis on salsa, which rendered most every bite drier than the low desert in a dry year. The pork was so finely ground that it was tough to get a proper read on it, although we suppose it was flavorful enough. There's no question, however, that we were forced to get through way too much rice. We weren't annoyed with everything about this stubby little slabette — witness the unlikely triumvirate of ten-mustache ratings for perfectly robust spice, faithfully strong construction, and all hot bites all the time — but this burrito, though still vaguely enjoyable at times, was simply not it.

Just because this short slab landed on the south side of our eight-mustache waterline — it ended up with as many shrug-worthy elements as Market Street has subway stations — doesn’t mean it wasn’t one to remember. Go inside the numbers with us, since our panel may never forget the bevy of micro-diced onion that virtually held up the otherwise-laggard vegetable rating on its own. Also worth noting: completely bulletproof intangibility evident in every damn bite. Positively booming spice set down the law from the get-go, and despite the cheap-ass foiljob, burstage abatement was on fierce patrol throughout. Angelica’s whole pinto beans caused no major pain, and while the ingredient mix cordoned off the Spanish rice to one side and left certain in-burrito areas either real saucy or not so saucy at all, it wasn’t the worst thing ever. Carne asada was tender and juicy and only very occasionally gristly, even if the cheese was more of a minimal factor than it should have been. But my oh my, was the whole thing mighty tasty.

Our panelists looked past an underutilized veggie contingent, shrug-worthy whole pinto beans, and an OK-enough ingredient mix to celebrate this hefty monument to fundamentally sound flavor. The tortilla could not have been grilled any more brilliantly to the point of flakiness, and the ten-mustache sweep of hot bites made everything better. Taco Stop’s carnitas may have been occasionally fatty and not nearly crispy enough, but let’s just say it tasted a hell of a lot better than it looked. A heaping helping of melted cheese contributed in all the right ways, while spice experienced moments of fury but mostly hung back comfortably in the eight-mustache pocket. Everything seemed gracefully salsa’d, and the avocado slices raised the otherwise low produce profile to a level of respectability. Never mind the stooge-headed foil job — this was a mighty fine burrito. Eight-and-a-half mustaches says so.

It was a girthsome, stubby, and ill-foiled lunch on our first stop at Taco Stop, but to be fair, this burrito did have a few things going for it amidst its odd appearance. The punchy salsa roja raised the level of most everything it touched, and its high spice register didn’t make any enemies with our judges panel, either. But other than the extra onion content and fine guacamole, no other ingredients touched our slab-loving souls – the mega-diced chicken was nothing at all special, the tortilla was too damn chewy, and the whole pinto beans had blandness covered like a blanket. The salsa roja help boost the rice’s fortunes, but nothing could save the sorry cheese performance, which saw miniscule grates of jack remain in a pathetically unmelted state throughout. But despite the paltry foil-job, the burrito itself held together admirably well, and we’ve endured far worse ingredient mixes around town.