Rotisserie Romados

There are as many Portuguese restos in my neighborhood as deppaneurs. Two of the city’s most critically acclaimed, Coco Rico and Romados, are both within a five minute walk of my apartment. When I was moving into this loft, I picked up a rotisserie chicken and some roti pork from Coco Rico to feed myself and my girlfriend as we unpacked boxes. The meat had been allowed to cook until it became unpalatable and mushy and we ended up discarding it altogether and fetching some sandwiches from Schwartz’s. How Coco Rico remains a frequented hot spot, beloved by all, is frankly completely beyond my understanding. I have been trying to muster the ambition to give it another try, but even walking by and seeing those wrinkly chicken carcasses fills me with sadness.

It is because of my Coco Rico experience that I had been leery of trying Romados, but I recently convinced myself that it was worth the trouble. After passing by and viewing hundreds of chickens grilled up through their tiny window on Rachel, I finally decided to feed myself one. Am I ever thankful for that.

Romados isn’t exactly a restaurant. As you walk through the doors, you are greeted by a deli and bakery. Tables are littered in the entrance and along the walls as you approach the back of the building to a tiny order counter. One line under a sign written in Portuguese and French consists of those waiting to pick up requests made in advance, another vacant line is for those who wish to place an order. We lucked out on this rainy May day and skipped to the front, ordering up a chicken and order of fries to take out. It is highly recommended to order ahead of time as you may not have our good fortune. Our chicken appeared and was slathered with a lightly spicy Portuguese basting sauce and chopped violently into eight delicious pieces in a matter of seconds.

Passing by the bakery and deli on the way back tempted me to pick up a few sides; a loaf of bread for sandwiches if there are leftovers (there shouldn’t be) or maybe a nata for dessert. My attention veered to the opposite side, a cooler filled with individual bottles of beer from various locations. I add a Brazilian brew to our order and our whole meal comes to $15.

Walking home in the rain I snacked on a few of the well-seasoned home fries that filled the tiny paper bag. Indoors, we grabbed plates and started devouring the hot chicken with our bare hands, I with a few douses of piri piri. At times the charcoal infusion bordered on over-powering, but the meat was so succulent and many other flavors are infused that fight the smoky char with every bite. With nothing but a pile of bones and a greasy, empty sack in front of us, we loosened our symbolic belts and reclined on the couch, awaiting empty stomaches so we can once again savor a Romados chicken.