The beer, of course isn't the main event, but it certainly adds to the experience. Little pairs more wonderfully with a few sub-arctic brews than a spit-roasted chicken, particularly this restaurant's salty, garlicky version with skin that is soft and almost melted in some places and then crusty and dark in others. Sauces come ― a chimichurri, a rocoto, and so forth ― but they're best used as a dip for the sides: puffy wands of yucca enveloped in a golden film of crisp, an orange thatch of sweet potato fries, and tacu tacu, a homely yet rich-tasting rice-and-bean fritter. The ceviche mixto ($9.25) makes a fine opener. When we went two days ago, the high, heavy sun was tipping the scales at 90 degrees, and we found no relief ― neither via shade nor breeze ― until we started devouring the cool bits of lime-and-rocoto-marinated halibut, shrimp, and calamari.
When Bauer reviewed this place in 2008, he dubbed it "a restaurant for the times." While its model ― inexpensive, high-quality food people feel like eating often ― is more recession-proof than most, we like it because it gives us an excuse to eat chicken. Let's face it: Unless it's fried, and sometimes even then, chicken is usually the most boring thing on the menu at a good restaurant, a sop thrown to conservative eaters. Here, chicken is the restaurant's raison d'etre, and since Limón Rotisserie is no grubby takeout joint, that preoccupation, in such a classy, pleasant setting, is as refreshing as a beer so icy it makes your mouth hurt.
Limón Rotisserie: 1001 South Van Ness (at 21st St.), 821-2134.
