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The Impatient Chef Should Have Known Better
'Twas a Saturday in the town of Portland in the state of Oregon that my wife and I were in need of Buffalo Wings, and a fateful, and rueful, decision was made. More on that in a bit. First, a few words about Buffalo Wings.
1. Buffaloes don’t have wings.
2. The word “wings” in large, illuminated letters on the restaurant is no guarantee of deliciousness.
3. Buffalo Wings are messy. Bathroom paper towels on rolls don’t cut it.
We were heading out of town when the subject of lunch was broached. Gaia wanted wings. I tried to remember a nearby place that had them, and all I could think of was a place in Gresham, which is a suburb of Portland (but don't tell them that) which I will call “Wing Slop” so as not to use their actual name. A place that specializes in wings must have at least passable wings, right? This is an assumption that you, dear reader, may already have guessed, put the “terror” back into terrible.
We ordered 3 types: Original Hot, Garlic Parmesan, and Spicy Korean BBQ. Of the first type, Original Hot, the taste was the best of the bunch. They were spicy, and seemed almost like Buffalo Wings. The Bleu Cheese dressing wasn't bad, either. They weren't the best wings, but they weren't he worst I've had, but everything went downhill from there.
I would suspect that Spicy Korean BBQ (given its name) should actually be spicy, and should not be cloyingly sweet. I've had Korean BBQ. I like Korean BBQ. Korean BBQ these things ain't. I can picture LLoyd Benson saying that to Dan Quayle right now. You of tender years won't get that, but Google is your friend.
The last was the Garlic Parmesan. There was parmesan cheese on it. That, at least, they got right. The garlic was sorely missing, as to be absent, and NOT THERE AT ALL. The nugget-like exterior concealed a tasteless interior, that masked (just barely) a half-hearted attempt to produce lackluster food-rocks that an eight-year-old me with a sling shot would have really enjoyed.
So, why am I telling you this? To introduce "The Quest for Wings™." In the coming months, I will attempt to find The Holy Grail of wings in Northwestern Oregon. My search has already begun at Rivertap in The Dalles. Stay tuned as Lady Gaia, and Sir Chef (The Impatient) bang our coconuts together, carry plenty of napkins, and seek the most holiest of morsels. Onward!
1. Buffaloes don’t have wings.
2. The word “wings” in large, illuminated letters on the restaurant is no guarantee of deliciousness.
3. Buffalo Wings are messy. Bathroom paper towels on rolls don’t cut it.
We were heading out of town when the subject of lunch was broached. Gaia wanted wings. I tried to remember a nearby place that had them, and all I could think of was a place in Gresham, which is a suburb of Portland (but don't tell them that) which I will call “Wing Slop” so as not to use their actual name. A place that specializes in wings must have at least passable wings, right? This is an assumption that you, dear reader, may already have guessed, put the “terror” back into terrible.
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| Really, Impatient Chef? You can do better than "Wing Slop." |
I would suspect that Spicy Korean BBQ (given its name) should actually be spicy, and should not be cloyingly sweet. I've had Korean BBQ. I like Korean BBQ. Korean BBQ these things ain't. I can picture LLoyd Benson saying that to Dan Quayle right now. You of tender years won't get that, but Google is your friend.
The last was the Garlic Parmesan. There was parmesan cheese on it. That, at least, they got right. The garlic was sorely missing, as to be absent, and NOT THERE AT ALL. The nugget-like exterior concealed a tasteless interior, that masked (just barely) a half-hearted attempt to produce lackluster food-rocks that an eight-year-old me with a sling shot would have really enjoyed.
So, why am I telling you this? To introduce "The Quest for Wings™." In the coming months, I will attempt to find The Holy Grail of wings in Northwestern Oregon. My search has already begun at Rivertap in The Dalles. Stay tuned as Lady Gaia, and Sir Chef (The Impatient) bang our coconuts together, carry plenty of napkins, and seek the most holiest of morsels. Onward!
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