Dine & Cook | Alternative food journalism

The plan was to go for sushi at this great restaurant in my hometown underneath the el train, but I wasn’t really in a mood for sushi.  The food would have been as reliably good as it ever was, but I was craving something a little different. Something more substantial. Something more Mediterranean. So I called my friend Dustin and told him there was a change of plans. We were getting chicken. Not just any chicken, but really good chicken.

I went there for the first time on another trip to visit my family about two years ago. I don’t know how my folks discovered this place, but I don’t particularly care. It’s one of the best kept secrets in town and I love telling people about it. Antonio’s in Oceanside, NY is a fairly nondescript looking place on the outside. Travel down Long Beach Road long enough and you can follow the smell coming from the front door.

The restaurant itself is small and intimate, not cramped, although the night we went it was pretty quiet. The menu can be broken down into two sections: The Chicken, and Everything Else. The menu’s cover proudly states that their “Portuguese-Style Churrasqueira” is free of carbonic residues. I don’t know if that means they keep the grill super clean or what, but whatever it is they’re doing, it’s working.

The waitress arrives and takes our order and apologizes that bar is closed for the night-- something about the owners renewing the liquor license. Pity, because the sangria is perfect on every level. Another time.

We start off with “Camaroes ao Alho,” shrimps sautéed with garlic in butter. Simple and delicious. My buddy is impressed and openly wondering how he’s never heard of this place until now. All day I’ve been waxing poetic about this chicken, confident that it would be as good as I remember. Now I’m just hoping to convince my friend.

At the table next to us, two middle-aged women pick at the remains of what we’re about to eat. They “overhear” me ordering the chicken and they break their conversation to chime in on ours. “You’re ordering the chicken? That’s what we’re having. It’s very good.” We nod and smile, and when our appetizer arrives, one looks at the other and enthuses about how good it looks. “What is that? That looks good. Is it good? We should order that next time.” Again, we smile and nod and continue on with our meal and conversation. The tight quarters at Antonio’s tend to invite this kind of rubbernecking from other curious patrons, but we didn’t particularly mind.

The entrée is preceded by a simple salad of well-seasoned and dressed iceberg red onions, olives and red peppers. We pick at it because it’s there, but it’s nothing to get too excited about… especially when there’s chicken on the way. Soon after, the main course arrives in all its glory, accompanied by its minion of side dishes – homemade potato chips, and a vegetable mélange of corn, carrots, broccoli, peas and what appear to be some kind of greens.

But the headliner, the star of the show, the main attraction is the roasted chicken. It arrives at the table on the bone. Drawn and quartered and hacked to pieces. Wings, thighs, legs, and breasts draped in crispy skin perfectly cooked and seasoned. The waitress asks if we’d like some hot sauce to go with our meal. Before she can even utter the last syllable, I blurt out “Yes, please!” I don’t know if this sauce is homemade or arrives every morning in gallon-sized jugs, but it’s served to us in what looks like a tiny stainless steel shotglass. That’s all you really need. The stuff is like rocket fuel.

There wasn’t a whole lot of conversation from that point on. Perfectly moist chicken, salty golden brown skin, and surprisingly little grease. Within minutes the carcass was picked clean, and there I sat, fat and happy in the knowledge that I was able to spread the gospel of Portuguese chicken to a loved one. On the way out, my buddy grabs a takeout menu for his mom. “She’d like this place,” he says. This pleases me. Then I realized that they do carryout. I didn’t even think about it until that moment that I missed such a huge opportunity. I was in town for a week and I could’ve been eating that chicken every night. Probably best I didn’t though. A meal like that is meant to be shared with friends and family.