Why drive all the way to Gresham for some roast chicken? Because this chicken, crisp-skinned and rubbed with garlic and mysterious green spices, is roasted in a wood-fired brick rotisserie oven as big as a Volkswagen Rabbit. Because it is served over really fragrant (if not really crisp) french fries. Because it is brought to your table by a woman who seems genuinely pleased to see you and happy to explain which of the seven bottles of sauces (cilantro lime!) on her tray should go on your chicken. Because the restaurant’s mascot is a grinning cock in a tunic and no pants, like a yacht-club version of Foghorn Leghorn. Because the enormous plate of fries and chicken and pointless salad is $7.50. If that’s not decadent enough (in which case, what is wrong with you?), the pollo saltado ($7.50) takes that same chicken and sautés it with fries, onion, tomato and soy sauce, dumped over rice. It is chicken fried with fries. Now go get your keys; I call shotgun.