Portuguese Chicken Wars!

Several posts ago, I alluded to a certain Portuguese Chicken War but didn't elaborate. Well, the time is now!

I wish this was just a cute name for some little phenomenon going on in Kensington, my old neighborhood, but it is exactly like it sounds. There are three Portuguese chicken restaurants within two blocks of each other, and they are literally at war with one another. And not war as in, "oh, we're really fierce competitors and have a lot of price wars", but more like war as in "we will burn down our competitors' restaurants." Because that has actually happened.

A week or so before I moved here, Shorty emailed me with a few tidbits about the apartment and neighborhood. The most interesting part of his email? It went a little something like this:

You'll see there are a lot of Portuguese chicken take away places in our area. They are like rival gangs so you have to choose one and stick to it. Now some people will try to lead you astray but may I highly recommend Ogalo. It was recently burnt down by another store (Portogali) so never go there. While they are restoring Ogalo you have permission to eat at Ole but the moment Ogalo reopens, you must flock back there.

Ha ha, I thought. Cute little Portuguese immigrants and their cute little wars. Nope.

A few days after I arrived, I went to Ole to have a gander and some food. As I walked in, the people working the counter gave me quite the friendly hello. Something along the lines of, "Hello, my friend! How are you today?" You know, just imagine your favorite Yemenite establishment and how they greet you when you walk in. Just like that. So I ordered the spicy Ole burger, which was quite succulent. Very good fries, er, chips, as well. Here's Ole:

After finishing my meal, I continued down the road. Not more than 30 meters further, I passed Portogali. And the men had seen me exit Ole. Not a big deal, right? Well, it didn't seem like it at the time. I just got a bit of a stare from the guys there, and didn't think much of it. Here's Portogali:


Only another 50 meters or so, I passed Ogalo and witnessed the devastation that had been brought upon it. Completely gutted and empty inside, it stood there, cold and alone.


Now, there are two schools of thought regarding how Ogalo was burned down:
1. Ogalo, with a kitchen and amenities inferior to those of Ole and Portogali, burned their own place down with the hopes of using the insurance money to rebuild a newer and better store.
2. In a fit of jealous rage over Ogalo's success, the owner of Portogali had his men burn Ogalo down.

Apparently the police are still looking into it, so no official ruling has been made yet. But this is your classic case of Portuguese guy said/other Portuguese guy said; the folks at Portogali swear that Ogalo burned its own store down, and the folks at Ogalo swear that Portogali burned their place down. We'll have to wait for the authorities to sort this one out.

Anyway, a few days later, I thought I'd try out Portogali. Sure, Shorty had specifically warned me against this, and sure, I had received a bit of a bad stare from the guys there, but come on. I mean, we're talking about Portuguese chicken! I wanted to give Portogali a fair shake in this, and besides, there's no way there's truth to any of this, right?

I quickly found out there was truth. The second I stepped foot into Portogali, the man behind the counter began to absolutely berate me. "You were in Ole the other day, I saw you! You leave right now or I make you leave!!" The kitchen staff came out, then some other dude from inside another door. So, yeah. I left.

As I scurried back to my apartment, I turned around to see three or four of the men standing outside Portogali just watching me.

But I was still hungry, and I needed nourishment. So after I regained my composure, I went back out to Ole. But much like the mother that turns her back on the baby that leaves the herd, I was damaged goods to Ole. "We saw you in that other place! You cannot go to them! You must leave now!!!!"

I apologized. I said I didn't understand the bad blood, that I just wanted food. But they would have none of it. I must leave, and I must leave now.

I'm still trying to piece the history together, but from what I've been able to determine, the tension between Ole and Ogalo is somewhat similar to that of Pat's and Geno's in Philadelphia. Ogalo, like Pat's, was the original. But some time after its foundation, some of the employees had a rift with the owners and split off to form Ole, just like Geno's. But while Pat's and Geno's can kind of coexist, Ogalo and Ole clearly cannot. And then when Portogali opened its doors for business right in between the two, the entire situation boiled over. I wish I were making this up, but girlfriends got involved, there have been rumblings of tampering with each other's food, there have apparently been several verbal and physical confrontations, and it all culminated in the fire at Ogalo. Again, no official cause has been announced yet, but it's looking like Portogali could be in trouble here.

I no longer live in that neighborhood, and when it comes to Portuguese chicken, that might just be for the best. I had been blacklisted from both of the establishments that are currently open, and I'm not sure what would have happened if I went to Ogalo when it finally reopens. They're feverishly working to rebuild it, and I know they've seen me in the area. Might just be best to steer clear of Portuguese chicken for a while.