Our quick-return visit to what is clearly northern San Francisco's finest burrito opportunity rated just as highly as it did on our first time here a couple months prior. And yet, this visit seemed like a slight come-down, maybe due to no element of surprise lurking this time...or perhaps it was just the boiled, throughly unspecial chicken. Still, there was much to laud here, from the ultramega-grilled whole wheat tortilla and rousing, habanero-fueled spice on through the bold avocado stylings and smart ingredient mix. The slab itself was dense, but undersized, and while the whole pinto beans may have been harmless enough, we would have preferred a slap or two of refrieds in the mix instead. Things got a bit drippy in the lower half, but it's OK, we had a napkin. Intangibility cleared our two-mustache bar with ease. Then we ordered seven lobster rolls to go.

Tacko's debut on our Mustache Chart flirted with legendary status before settling for just really impressive. From its cavalcade of sharp flavors on through its uncanny intangible charm, this was a slab that knew what it was doing from the get-go, even if a few elements didn't quite grasp the concept of true greatness. Certain things about our foiled lunch were simply unassailable: the on-point guacamole and pico de gallo that anchored a flawless vegetable ensemble; the juicy, perfectly grilled beef; the unstoppably burly habanero salsa, applied to an ideal degree. Nearly equal kudos went out to the smartly melted cheese, exceptional ingredient mix, and nicely moist rice, and the whole deal was built to last, not fall apart. On the flip side, the whole wheat tortilla (which we neither requested nor expected) became a victim of saucy seepage in the burrito's final stages, while stunted length and a set of drab, just-there pinto beans prevented this otherwise glorious burrito from hitting our nine-mustache heights. Still, one hell of a debut.