As a dedicated foodie (and slightly less dedicated restaurant critic), you'd expect me to have a great passion for rotisserie chicken joints on the further edge of Southern California. And, certainly, I have trouble passing by a place that promises a well grilled bird, with lots of skin, and rivers of juice oozing from underneath. I have a nearly irrational love of the chickens from Zankou, Pollo a la Brasa, El Pollo Inka – and I go nearly mad when confronted with the original skinless chicken from Koo Koo Roo, which I still think one of the great chickens of the late 20th century.

But I must confess – I also have a jones for the rotisserie chickens found in the hot case at Ralphs. And I'm not alone. Some years ago, Mark Peel of Campanile confessed that he often snagged one of their chickens for his family on nights when he was too bushed to cook – after a long day cooking.

The chickens at Ralphs come in plastic bags. They range in flavor from BBQ to no-salt – though it's the lemon-pepper model I like most. A whole bird costs $5.99, a great deal. But a certain strategy is required. Buy the chicken late in the day, and it's possible it's been stewing in its juices for a long time. Long enough for the chicken meat to take on the texture of a pudding – and for the bones to start to liquefy. The chicken still tastes good. But it lacks a certain degree of…body. It's good – but mushy.

But no matter how long it's been cooked – I like the chickens at Ralphs. I've become a Zen master at dismantling them, understanding just where the strings that keep them in bondage are tied, just which bones slide out easily – and where to find that funky, and oh-so-good marrow that clusters along the spine. The family doesn't eat it – but I sure do. I've eaten so many of these chickens over the years, I'm beginning to feel feathers sprouting on my back. A pity they don't sprout on my head – it would be quite the look.

--Merrill Shindler