It’s Party Time

For a decade now, we Eastside denizens have watched with slack-jawed amazement as the outside world eagerly descended on our oft-helicopter-searchlight-grazed little neck of the woods. The end of the line on this ride to the wild side? Cha Cha Cha Cafe, a hatbox-sized cafe rising from cracked concrete, wedged snug between auto part shops, car washes and Iglesias Pentecostals at the corner of Virgil and Melrose’s more disheveled eastern mouth.

Cha Cha Cha Cafe was--and still is, for that matter--a jubilant dinner party in progress, filling the air with a host of enticements: citrus, garlic and nose-itching chiles, served up to the strains of mambo king Perez Prado’s lascivious growl.

Though East Melrose never quite came into its own, Cha Cha Cha became fruitful--and multiplied. And now, with the new Cha Cha Chicken in Santa Monica, chef-owner Toribio Prado, who created the original scene and cuisine with the late flamboyant impresario Mario Tamayo, has carted his party west all the way to the sea and into the realm of fast (relatively speaking) food.

Cha Cha Chicken looks like little more than a goldenrod Post-It affixed to the Earth’s edge; a cross-pollinated dreamscape that could have been co-divined by Frida Kahlo and Frank Gehry: rising swatches of corrugated steel adorned with remnants of thin sheet metal bent into brightly painted “ribbons” scrawled with text.

It’s a busy paradise, lush with flora, crowded with art found and made. Samohi surfers and wandering beach-hotel tourists settle in around a jumble of mismatched Playskool-hued tables that fill the patio.

Hidden amid the collage of art, the hand-lettered menu is somewhat difficult to read, so instead of squinting at it, grab one of the colorful photocopied versions. Its idiosyncratic takeout offerings range from guava-glazed turkey legs and arroz sin pollo to Chinese chicken salad and rum-soaked chicken--Latin-Caribbean classics tweaked for Southern California tastes.

Cha Cha Chicken puts an artful spin on fast-food fare. Little Ricky’s fried chicken (in quarter, half and whole portions) is juice-spurting white or dark meat wrapped in a thin jacket of crisp golden skin, accompanied not by a standard issue foil-packet of honey but by a side of a tongue-tingling dark pepper-jerk-seasoned dipping sauce, redolent of garlic and molasses. Or try the mulatto Cubano sandwich, a SoCal interpretation of the pork-laden favorite media noche--a loaf of Cuban bread split and stuffed with grilled chicken breast, melted cheese and the mandatory pickle chips--all pressed and toasted to crisp, roof-of-the-mouth-scratching perfection.

More daring are the not-so-traditional ‘wich-stand specialties. Uncle Denny’s turkey loaf is nothing like the dense Wednesday-night slabs of childhood. This moist slice of meat is dotted with cilantro and bits of tomato and garlic and unleashes an unexpected subtle, slow burn.

Bernie’s chicken hash, a breakfast dish that’s served all day, is a wonderfully jumbled conflation of tastes and textures: shredded bits of tender chicken breast, red cabbage, cilantro, dill, capers, onions, Italian parsley and onions served over slightly crisp home fries, and muffin crumbles bookended by eggs--scrambled or poached.

Cha Cha chiquitos is a glistening Cornish hen basted in subtle herbs and just a whisper of jerk seasoning and roasted tender, a bear to eat with the tiny plastic knife and fork provided.

Each entree comes with a choice of two sides. Your basic moros y cristianos can be surprisingly uneven (the beans undercooked). The sure bets: the trio of crisp fried plantains, yuca and tostones and the grilled corn on the cob with jerk butter--a sweet cob pot-dripping-brushed and fired to a blackened finish.

A word to the chile-wise: If you are looking for the spice experience you get at Cha Cha Cha (particularly the bite and rush of the head-opening negro sauce), you’ll be disappointed here. Even chicken a la Cha Cha (roasted chicken with a generously spiced Jamaican jerk sauce) is only a third as hot as its Eastside cousin. The same goes for the breakfast chilaquiles. Overall, it appears the intensity has been toned down for these parts.

This isn’t to say that it will stay that way. Cha Cha Chicken is still inventing itself, and if it’s anything like its East Melrose kin, one can only hope that it always does. That’s what keeps it fresh, alive--moving. The party should never stop.

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WHERE TO GO

Cha Cha Chicken, 1906 Ocean Ave., Santa Monica; (310) 581-1684. Fax: (310) 581-1065. Open seven days a week, 8 a.m.-midnight. No alcohol. Valet parking. Cash only. Takeout. Lunch for two, $18 to $25.

WHAT TO GET

Little Ricky’s fried chicken, mulatto Cubano, grilled corn on the cob with jerk butter, Bernie’s chicken hash, Cha Cha chiquitos.