With its towering translucent blue columns offsetting imposing crystal chandeliers and an all-white décor, o-R-o looks like a Fifties Hollywood set designer's idea of Heaven. Meaning it is the kind of place where Marilyn Monroe's soul might hover in a sable stole (bleached white, naturally). It does not seem like the sort of joint where you would find simply heavenly soul food. But chef Christopher Sepe's fried chicken is to die for. A whipped egg-white batter makes the coating impossibly crisp yet light, giving all the sinful gratification of normal breading without the burden of the grease. This near-miraculous crust also protects the white meat of the quarter-bird, so the breast portion is as delectable and juicy as the leg and thigh. A mushroom-studded country gravy imparts even more moisture. But be prepared to wait until you have one foot in the grave for your order; it would seem that since opening at the end of last year, o-R-o has hosted a considerably larger crowd than anticipated and servers simply can't keep up. Fortunately the tag for this entrée is down-to-earth -- just eighteen bucks -- so while you're waiting in limbo, it's easy to blow the bank on something more typically Hollywood-heavenly, like a little spoon-size $250 portion of Iranian caviar served in a crystal Fabergé egg.