Chinese/Indian. Vietnamese/Californian. Three parts Polynesian with a pinch of Scandinavian. Sure, feasting on exotic fusion cuisine can be a lot of fun, but must all new restaurants challenge preconceptions? I'm occasionally in the mood for something simple, nourishing and familiar — like the straightforward Mexican food offered at Taqueria La Bamba in downtown Mountain View.

If the La Bamba brand sounds familiar, that's because the new Castro Street restaurant is the chain's second location in Mountain View (a third will soon reopen in Richmond). The saga began in the mid-1980s, when a disgruntled cook at La Costena Market (another venerated burrito joint in Mountain View) set up shop just two doors down from his former employer on Old Middlefield Road. Business boomed in the 1990s, as La Bamba earned a reputation among high-tech workers craving fast, cheap and tasty lunchtime burritos.

So when the short-lived El Grullense on Castro closed earlier this year, La Bamba decided to take over the lease. The place still has artifacts from the Grullense era: folk-art murals, ornate wall sconces and, more notably, a fully stocked and grandly appointed rear bar, which now sits unlit and untended. Apparently the new management isn't too worried about the bar business. They're focused on serving food.

And while the food is good, let's begin where every Mexican meal should: with the chips and salsa. The chips had a satisfying, freshly fried taste, though we found it odd that they aren't offered gratis; we had to request them every time we visited, and each bowlful was skimpy.

Meanwhile, La Bamba's fresca and picante salsas, available in a dark corner under the glass, are little more than standard-issue as salsas go. Still, they get the job done.

A similar compliment/criticism applies to the rice, beans, guacamole, sour cream and shredded lettuce that come alongside every meal (or, in the case of burritos, inside the meal). Our rice contained a smattering of diced peppers; the refried beans were topped with melted cheese but were otherwise pretty pasty; and the guacamole works best when buried within a burrito.

By contrast, the main courses really hit the spot. The chicken flautas dish ($9.24) was three crispy rolled-up tortillas generously stuffed with shredded chicken, sprinkled with spicy red sauce and melted panella cheese, and topped with yet another dollop of sour cream (La Bamba's cooks get a bit happy with the crema). Compared with flautas I've eaten at many other Mexican establishments, these were particularly plump and meaty.

Indeed, while you can order a veggie basket salad ($5.55) or vegetarian burrito ($6.01), La Bamba is for carnivores. Most tacos and burritos come with a choice of carne asada (grilled steak), carnitas (pork shoulder), al pastor (marinated barbecued pork), chili colorado (beef in a spicy red sauce), lengua (beef tongue), pollo (white meat chicken), chili verde (pork in a spicy sauce) and pollo azado (grilled chicken).

Wrapped in tinfoil, our enormous al pastor super burrito ($6.47) required two hands to navigate. We ordered the works and got a mixture of rice, beans, sweet grilled onions, fresh chopped cilantro, salsa fresca, sour cream and guacamole tossed with savory pork dripping with a mysterious red marinade that celebrated the unlikely marriage of chili and pineapple. It was crazy good.

Our chicken enchiladas ($9.24) were a little more ordinary, and yet nobody complained about the three rolled-up tortillas stuffed with chicken and baked with red sauce and crumbled panella cheese. I liked the fact that the tortillas weren't drenched in the sauce, which boosted the chicken flavor.

But if you're in the mood for meat — and I do mean a lot of meat — go for the carne asada ($9.24). Ours came with no fewer than four thinly sliced marinated skirt steaks sandwiching grilled onions and served with all the fixings, including three flour tortillas nestled in a warmer. I love this kind of presentation, in which you measure the exact proportions of meat, rice, beans, guacamole and sour cream piled onto each forkful.

You'll find no pretension at Taqueria La Bamba, except, perhaps, with their unusual pricing, with dishes listed at $6.01, $2.31 and so on. But study your receipt and you'll find that, once tax is applied, the bill adds up to an even number, reducing the need for pesky pennies.

This type of commonsense ethic applies to every aspect of the La Bamba experience, where the basics — good food, huge portions and reasonable bang for the buck — are more than covered.