That's Jean leaning on the sill of the takeout window at our new Pollo Felíz, pickin' up chicken to bring to Anamaria's house for lunch.

Pollo Felíz is the ultimate restaurant franchise in Mexico, a sign that our adopted country is moving inexorably into the First World. That logo, with a mouth-watering feathered chicken giving us the thumbs-up, is as familiar here as the golden arches up north.

Our outlet is a huge store. I bet it seats 500. It's run with unusual attention to procedures and detail. Very Un-Mexican. Here, the troops fall in for their morning briefing.

Pollo Felíz sells pollo asado—grilled chicken. Happy grilled chicken.

This young man is cooking about 300 orders on an industrial gas grill. He's using a custom-designed tool to manipulate the chicken; he's wearing his logo-bearing shirt and hat. He has spiffy black boots to keep liquids off his feet and he's wearing a mask to prevent either exhaling of germs onto people's food or inhaling of greasy smoke into his lungs or both.

Are you sure we're not in LA?

The grill hood contains a fire-control system. Huge extractors whisk smoke out to a chimney on the roof. The resulting savory cloud drifts across San Miguel de Allende, bringing hungry patrons on the run.

The cooking philosophy is the same as in the hamburger chains up North: cook the hell out of it in the hopes that no customer gets sick. So Pollo Felíz chicken tends to be a little dry. Chicken jerky, actually. Even so, it tastes surprisingly good.

Jean picks up four half-chicken orders, five bucks each.

A smiling señorita gives Jean her change.

What a concept: Uniformly prepared product quickly and courteously served in a clean facility at low cost. No wonder Mexicans flock to Pollo Felíz.

But you don't get something for nothing. As the franchises take over, they displace the mom-and-pop restaurants that make each dining experience different.

Knowledgeable Sanmiguelenses don't buy their pollo asada at Pollo Felíz. They go down to the ratty-looking outdoor grill near the bus station, where chickens are cooked not over gas by some teenager, but over charcoal by the proprietor, who has been grilling there for years, turning out juicy, perfectly-grilled meals every time.