Marty tried to kill Harry and me last night. The chicken wings could be classified as "suicidal," the hottest there is in the Buffalo wing hierarchy. Why? Because he likes them that way, and the last few times he cooked wings he'd toned down the sauce for the wusses in the group. Thanks, pal.
Marty and I met at the State University of New York at Buffalo. Spicy chicken wings were invented at Frank and Theresa's Anchor Bar. They were served free at the bar to encourage steady drinking. No amount of drinking could quell the lip pain elicited from eating Marty's maniacal version of this bar food. Harry said milk is best with spicy food, but a glass of that didn't put out the fire. The classic side dish, celery and blue cheese dressing, didn't help much either. I was done after just 7 wings. Harry and Marty finished the rest because they're manly men. It's been said that Marty eats like a Mexican, meaning he likes his food fiery. He puts hot sauce on almost everything. Maybe his taste buds have been dampened.
If Marty offers to make you chicken wings, be sure and say you like them mild or medium. Some like it hot, but his idea of hot is torture.
1 comment:
I'm reminded of the time Chris made Jerk chicken. He lived in Jamaica as a boy, so you probably know where this is going. The first bite was delicious and succulent. By the third bite, I thought I might be hallucinating from the heat of all the dried habanero peppers in the marinade. I powered through after I lost all feeling in my lips. Needless to say, I paid for my determination for days to come. He's never made it again.
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