South bound on the 5200 block of Federal I see an orange and white sign that says "Rico Pollo", I had never entered this establishment, so I decided to take a gander. In literal translation rico pollo means rich chicken, but a more appropriate meaning in this case is delicious chicken.
Pulling into the semi occupied parking lot there was a Hispanic man in his late forties leaning against the window near the entrance. He was wearing a tattered, worn in, blue winter jacket and a red baseball cap with yellow writing that read "Rocky's Auto". He was smoking what looked like a re-fry cigarette and it was obvious that he was begging for money. He politely asked "Hablas espanol?" I replied "Si." He then continued "Puedo lavar tus ventanas?" I kindly told him "Si, por favor." He wanted to wash my car windows for money are a agreed. In exchange for the wash I handed him three dollars and proceeded to enter. Standing in between the doors of a double door entrance I watched as he took his spray bottle, with a 409 label, and wash my windows and take a dry towel hanging from his back pocket to dry them. After the man finished I turned around to open the second door and I was faced with a neon green sign that read "no checks no credit cards".
Upon entering I was greeted with a savory breeze that smelled of grilling chicken. The employees behind the counter were dressed in orange and black polo shirts with "Rico Pollo" embroidered on the left side. Along with the shirt, the employees were also wearing an orange hat that was inscribed with "Rico Pollo". There were three employees visible in the foreground, but by the chatter in the background in was obvious there were more people in the back. Off to the side was a man in a white button down, recently pressed shirt with blue slacks writing on his clipboard. The industrial sized thermometer in his left hand led me to believe he was a health inspector.
As I looked up I encountered a slightly disorganized black and white menu. The entrees didn't seem to be grouped or in any kind of chronological order. There were some items that were repeated in different areas of the menu and there were pieces of paper hanging from the menu offering possible specials. After scanning the menu for several minutes I asked the lady "me das un cuarto de pollo blanco y una soda de la macina por favor." The quarter chicken meal included a side of rice and beans, grilled green onions, a fresh roasted jalapeno pepper, and piping hot corn tortillas. I took my cup and my receipt and proceeded to get a soda. Posted on soda machine was a note written in Spanish "ayudenos mantener el restaurant limpio por favor." In English the staff was asking the clients to help keep the restaurant clean. To the left of the soda fountain there was a refrigerator with sliding glass doors and inside were rows of bottled sodas ranging from apple and grapefruit to sparkling mineral water and sangria.
There were approximately twenty tables, evenly placed, around the restaurant. All of them had a wooden tabletop that was light in color and marred in different places. Some had words etched in the top and others were just scratched and dented. The table was paired with a brightly colored orange, hard plastic, booth style seat. After choosing a table I noticed the different decorations on the wall. The walls were white and covered with random mumbo jumbo. On one wall was a gigantic, authentic, blue sombrero that was covered with white lace-like design. On the walls adjacent to the sombrero there were violins and guitars hanging and underneath them were stacks of high chairs crammed into the corners.
There was a faint rhythm in the background that could be recognized as Mexican music, entertaining the employees as they worked. I also heard chopping that was most likely associated with the butcher's block in the back dissembling the chicken into desired portions. Beyond the music and rhythmic fall of the blade on the chopping board the hushed conversations of the few customers flowed through the restaurant. The occupants ranged from a couple, to a family of five, to several single guys in grungy work attire stopping by to grab food to go.
I received my plate and the aromas grew stronger. The juicy chicken was steaming and all of the smells mixed together were screaming "EAT ME!" The plate and the presentation were simple, all plastic. But the tastes were beyond simple. The chicken had a dry rub of Mexican spices giving the chicken a more complex flavor than grilled chicken alone. The taste that makes your mouth water and turns on all of your taste buds making you yearn to take the next bit. The plate was accompanied by a side of green sauce that had tiny black specs throughout, probably small bits of skin left on the chili from the roasting process. The sauce had a delicious garlic and jalapeno flavor, but the jalapeno flavor seemed to be a powerful and potent. The corn tortillas were a perfect addition to the plate because they could serve as a neutralizer to calm the burning sensation that the sauce produced. Throughout the meal the pile of dirty, crumpled napkins began to grow, by the end of the meal the pile had grown to a mere mountain containing at least ten napkins. Once I had finished, I gathered the soiled napkins and placed them on top of my empty plate and scanned the room for a trash receptacle. Upon discovery, I realized the swinging door of the bin had the original lettering of "Thank You" scratched off and was replaced by "Basura" which is Spanish for trash. I deposited my trash, gathered my things and proceeded to leave. While going back through the double door entrance, I noticed some local Spanish newspapers placed on the ground free for taking. I passed them by and left through the second of the series of doors. The gentleman who was once outside washing windows had now disappeared and I was on my way to finish the rest of my day.
Pulling into the semi occupied parking lot there was a Hispanic man in his late forties leaning against the window near the entrance. He was wearing a tattered, worn in, blue winter jacket and a red baseball cap with yellow writing that read "Rocky's Auto". He was smoking what looked like a re-fry cigarette and it was obvious that he was begging for money. He politely asked "Hablas espanol?" I replied "Si." He then continued "Puedo lavar tus ventanas?" I kindly told him "Si, por favor." He wanted to wash my car windows for money are a agreed. In exchange for the wash I handed him three dollars and proceeded to enter. Standing in between the doors of a double door entrance I watched as he took his spray bottle, with a 409 label, and wash my windows and take a dry towel hanging from his back pocket to dry them. After the man finished I turned around to open the second door and I was faced with a neon green sign that read "no checks no credit cards".
Upon entering I was greeted with a savory breeze that smelled of grilling chicken. The employees behind the counter were dressed in orange and black polo shirts with "Rico Pollo" embroidered on the left side. Along with the shirt, the employees were also wearing an orange hat that was inscribed with "Rico Pollo". There were three employees visible in the foreground, but by the chatter in the background in was obvious there were more people in the back. Off to the side was a man in a white button down, recently pressed shirt with blue slacks writing on his clipboard. The industrial sized thermometer in his left hand led me to believe he was a health inspector.
As I looked up I encountered a slightly disorganized black and white menu. The entrees didn't seem to be grouped or in any kind of chronological order. There were some items that were repeated in different areas of the menu and there were pieces of paper hanging from the menu offering possible specials. After scanning the menu for several minutes I asked the lady "me das un cuarto de pollo blanco y una soda de la macina por favor." The quarter chicken meal included a side of rice and beans, grilled green onions, a fresh roasted jalapeno pepper, and piping hot corn tortillas. I took my cup and my receipt and proceeded to get a soda. Posted on soda machine was a note written in Spanish "ayudenos mantener el restaurant limpio por favor." In English the staff was asking the clients to help keep the restaurant clean. To the left of the soda fountain there was a refrigerator with sliding glass doors and inside were rows of bottled sodas ranging from apple and grapefruit to sparkling mineral water and sangria.
There were approximately twenty tables, evenly placed, around the restaurant. All of them had a wooden tabletop that was light in color and marred in different places. Some had words etched in the top and others were just scratched and dented. The table was paired with a brightly colored orange, hard plastic, booth style seat. After choosing a table I noticed the different decorations on the wall. The walls were white and covered with random mumbo jumbo. On one wall was a gigantic, authentic, blue sombrero that was covered with white lace-like design. On the walls adjacent to the sombrero there were violins and guitars hanging and underneath them were stacks of high chairs crammed into the corners.
There was a faint rhythm in the background that could be recognized as Mexican music, entertaining the employees as they worked. I also heard chopping that was most likely associated with the butcher's block in the back dissembling the chicken into desired portions. Beyond the music and rhythmic fall of the blade on the chopping board the hushed conversations of the few customers flowed through the restaurant. The occupants ranged from a couple, to a family of five, to several single guys in grungy work attire stopping by to grab food to go.
I received my plate and the aromas grew stronger. The juicy chicken was steaming and all of the smells mixed together were screaming "EAT ME!" The plate and the presentation were simple, all plastic. But the tastes were beyond simple. The chicken had a dry rub of Mexican spices giving the chicken a more complex flavor than grilled chicken alone. The taste that makes your mouth water and turns on all of your taste buds making you yearn to take the next bit. The plate was accompanied by a side of green sauce that had tiny black specs throughout, probably small bits of skin left on the chili from the roasting process. The sauce had a delicious garlic and jalapeno flavor, but the jalapeno flavor seemed to be a powerful and potent. The corn tortillas were a perfect addition to the plate because they could serve as a neutralizer to calm the burning sensation that the sauce produced. Throughout the meal the pile of dirty, crumpled napkins began to grow, by the end of the meal the pile had grown to a mere mountain containing at least ten napkins. Once I had finished, I gathered the soiled napkins and placed them on top of my empty plate and scanned the room for a trash receptacle. Upon discovery, I realized the swinging door of the bin had the original lettering of "Thank You" scratched off and was replaced by "Basura" which is Spanish for trash. I deposited my trash, gathered my things and proceeded to leave. While going back through the double door entrance, I noticed some local Spanish newspapers placed on the ground free for taking. I passed them by and left through the second of the series of doors. The gentleman who was once outside washing windows had now disappeared and I was on my way to finish the rest of my day.
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