Home > Baltimore Restaurants > Restaurant Review > You're broke. Eat here.

The sign for Highlandtown's Chicken Rico features three cooked chickens lovingly impaled on an iron rod. To a customer as well-seasoned as the birds themselves, the mere sight of said signage prepares one's mouth for a journey into Flavor Country.

In this case, "Flavor Country" happens to be synonymous with Peru, where, many moons ago, some culinary geniuses decided to slow-roast whole chickens with a delicate blend of herbs and spices that puts Colonel Sanders to shame. Not so many moons ago, this recipe made its leap to Baltimore, where it has remained deliciously ensconced ever since. This is not to say that Chicken Rico is an immersive cultural experience -- aside from some amiable Peruvian wall décor, you're pretty much eating great ethnic chicken in a large, decidedly un-ethnic room.

I would be remiss in my duties as a reviewer, however, if I didn't mention the telenovelas that Chicken Rico broadcasts at all hours. Nothing makes devouring a quarter-chicken more aesthetically pleasing than doing so while watching anonymous Hispanic women melodramatically defy the men in their lives. If you don't speak a word of Spanish beyond that bestowed in Taco Bell commercials, it's even better.

Speaking of not speaking, the authenticity of Rico's employees also leads to some unfortunate, albeit minor, linguistic barriers. The restaurant has a slew of side dishes, all of them probably delectable. My rather simple request for "fries," though, was initially misinterpreted as a desire for fried plantains (also tasty, I'm sure). When I inquired as to the soup of the day, I was told only, "no soup!" But even if there had been, the flavor probably would have remained a mystery. Perhaps the soup of the day is always just "soup."

With one bite of that moist chicken, my quibbles with the server were promptly forgotten. "Moist" being one of those words that can only modify a few nouns without sounding disgusting. Moist pants? Sick. Moist towelettes? Tolerable. Moist chicken? I'll take two! And Chicken Rico's birds retain more water than your girlfriend on one of her "fat days." That may not read like a ringing endorsement, but trust me: it is.

Dish: While it's obviously most famous for the simple goodness of its succulent (but dirt-cheap) rotisserie-cooked chickens, Chicken Rico also has a much-touted chicken burrito and innumerable side dishes. Since "chicken" is in the title, though, it would probably be unwise to visit in hopes of finding beef, pork, fish, lamb, veal, venison, duck, escargot, Rocky Mountain oysters, etc. What I'm trying to say is, get the chicken. It's easier for everyone.

Damage: With heaping scoops of any two sides, a quarter-chicken still rings in at only $4.25. You can add any drink you want to that -- hell, add two -- and still spend less than $10.

Decision: Such great chicken at such low prices? Consider me a Rico man. Fast food restaurants, I spit on your chicken nuggets! (Assuming your employees haven't taken care of that already.)

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